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oddinary4bts · 21 days ago

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Be With You | ch 5

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, cursing, talks about oc's ex (name reveal oop), explicit content: talks about oral sex (female receiving), nipple play, dry humping/grinding, jerking off, hickeys, basically a hell of a lot of grinding tbh, cumshot

☆word count: 8.2k

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: another chapter for y'all :) and thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, October 5th

The park is warm, the breeze reminiscing of summer long gone. Though the leaves have been changing colours, a myriad of different shades of yellow, orange, red and green adorning the branches, you almost feel like summer might be coming back.

But the cold lingering in the shade is a clear indication that winter is coming in just a few months.

Today doesn’t really hint at that though. The park is crowded, music playing from the speaker of a group somewhere on your left, and people are bathing in the sun, sharing snacks and drinks as they sit in the grass, or some of them on blankets. You’re sitting on such a blanket, your lips spread in a smile as you listen to Wooyoung and San’s bickering next to you.

They’ve been at it for what must be twenty minutes now. Something about a sports game you haven’t watched and don’t really care for, but they are enthusiastic, waving their hands around as they speak. Their friend Jongho and his girlfriend Lyla are also here, and Lyla keeps jumping in occasionally to share what she thinks of it all.

“It’s football, for fuck’s sake,” Wooyoung says. “Why would they even…”

He never finishes his sentence, San interrupting, and you just laugh along with Jongho and Lyla as Wooyoung just glares at San, his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes.

Your phone buzzes on the blanket next to you, and you take a look at it, noticing you’ve received a message from Sydney. She’s supposed to meet you soon, and you’re excited to ask her about how it went with Yunho last night.

You’ve heard that they spent quite some time together, and you’ve been hoping that it cleared the air between the two of them, if only so that you can all start to hang out again without awkwardness lingering in the air.

[2:37 pm] Syd: where the fuck are you?

You snort, quickly typing back your reply.

[2:38 pm] You: by the baseball field

Sydney shoots back the thumbs up emoji, and you put your phone aside as you zero back in on the conversation. Surprisingly, they have stopped talking about football, and you listen as they talk about the upcoming midterms.

“Should we eat?” Wooyoung asks, glancing at the cooler Jongho brought with sandwiches for all of you, and two bottles of rosé wine to share.

“Syd’s almost here,” you inform him.

He sighs loudly, but then everyone is distracted as Hongjoong and Yeosang show up, greeting the group. They brought snacks and spiked lemonade cans with them, so you all settle on one of those as you wait for Sydney, who arrives five minutes later, grumbling about not being able to find you.

To Wooyoung’s luck, you eat then - Sydney even brought some cookies for dessert - your group sharing lively conversation as time goes by. The sun keeps you all warm, hot even, and you enjoy the last of the warm days like that, playing frisbee in the field once you’ve eaten. It’s filled with loud laughs and screams, and you end up going back to the blanket where Yeosang and Hongjoong lingered, sitting with them as Sydney plays with the others.

San glances your way, and you think he’s frowning in the distance. But then Wooyoung screams at him, effectively distracting him, and you sit on the blanket, reaching for the open bag of chips.

“Long night yesterday?” Hongjoong teases.

Your eyes widen, and you shoot him a look. “What?”

“You went home with San, didn’t you?”

Red creeps on your cheeks, and you look towards the mentioned man. He’s throwing the frisbee, and it does a perfect arc, Jongho catching it effortlessly.

“Huh, yeah.”

You figure there’s no need to lie - they all saw you walking out and not coming back yesterday.

Hongjoong smiles wide, glancing at your friends playing frisbee. “Good for you.”

Yeosang snorts, glancing at Hongjoong. “What the fuck was that?”

“San’s hot now,” Hongjoong replies, shrugging his shoulders.

You’ve never really thought about Hongjoong’s sexuality before, and realization dawns as Yeosang nods. “Can’t deny he’s been working out a lot.”

“Don’t you go with him?” Hongjoong asks then.

You tune out the conversation as you see Sydney walking towards you while the others linger on the field, Wooyoung screaming as San chases him with the frisbee in his hand as if he’s about to knock it on his friend’s head. It’s a funny sight, almost comical, and you smile as Wooyoung drops to the ground, protecting his head.

“They are way too competitive for me,” Sydney deadpans as she stops next to you. She glances at Hongjoong and Yeosang, her cheeks turning pink, and then she meets your gaze again. “Do you want to go for a walk around the park?”

You know what the question means - she has something to tell you. Excitement bubbles in your chest, and you’re up on your feet a second later, waving Yeosang and Hongjoong goodbye.

Sydney hooks her arm with yours as you walk, and you notice San glancing your way as you move away, walking down the dirt path on the side of the field where they’re playing. He smiles at you, and you instinctively smile back, your brain not tuning in for Sydney’s first words.

You only notice she’s spoken when she pulls on your arm, saying, “Are you even listening?”

You clear your throat, your cheeks burning as you look away from San, focusing on the squirrel darting across the path a little further down. “Sorry, come again?”

“I…” Sydney trails off, letting out a small, shy chuckle. “I was with Yunho last night.”

You throw her a quick look, only met with her profile as her gaze remains stubbornly locked in on the end of the path. “I know.”

“No,” Sydney says. “Well, I mean, yes, but… but like no.”

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“He walked me home,” Sydney admits.

As if he hasn’t done so countless times before.

“Yeah?” you press.

“I, huh…” You think you hear her gulp. “I invited him in.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh my God. Did you fuck my brother?”

Sydney slaps your arm. “Why do you have to be so crude?”

Yet her embarrassed tone reveals everything her words haven’t.

“You did. You so did.”

“It wasn’t…” She wets her lips, searching for words. “It wasn’t like that.”

You can tell she has more to say, but she remains silent for a moment. This time you don’t press her, knowing that she needs to collect her thoughts before speaking, and so you finish walking down the field, turning towards the right where a small pond is rippled with tiny waves from the breeze.

“At first, I just wanted us to talk things out,” Sydney explains. “But then… then we kissed, and…”

Her silence is so long you figure she won’t speak. “And you fucked.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she groans. “We made… love, I guess?”

You almost squeal in happiness, supressing the will to jump up and down. “Finally!”

“Finally?”

“It took you so, so fucking long, Syd.”

Sydney frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You guys have been in love since like middle school.”

Your best friend lets go of your arm as she folds hers on her chest. “No?”

“Yes?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I am so, so happy you’ve finally opened your eyes.”

At that Sydney smiles softly, her gaze dropping to the ground. She’s the perfect picture of the maidens that you read about in books, long gone for their knights, and you’d laugh at the sight if she wasn’t so cute.

If you weren’t that happy for her and your brother.

“I’m happy too,” she says gently, and she meets your gaze with a sparkle to her eyes that makes you think true love does exist. “I hope it’s not weird for you.”

“Nah,” you immediately reassure her. “I’ve been waiting for a really long time for you to realize your feelings for each other.” You chuckle, thinking of all the times you’d tried to push them together, hoping that something would come out of it. “I’ve been rooting for you forever.”

Sydney rolls her eyes, though the smile does not leave her lips. “Shut up.”

“Never.” You grin, and then you glance at the ducks on the lake. “I’ll be your officiant at your wedding.”

“Woah, who said anything about a wedding,” Sydney says with a laugh.

“Syd.” Your tone is almost scolding, like a reprimand is about to emerge from your lips. “We both know that you and Yunho will get married the second we’re out of college.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah.”

But the blush on her cheeks tells you that it’s a possibility she’s probably considered herself ever since yesterday. She’s always wanted to get married after all, unlike you.

Silence rises around the two of you, and you’re on your way back to the field when Sydney finally speaks up again.

“What about you?” she asks.

You think you can spy San in the distance when you answer, “What?”

“What happened with San last night?” she asks.

You worry at your bottom lip, suddenly feeling nervous. You don’t quite know why - it’s not like San has given you any reason to be nervous when it comes to the two of you, even if you got jealous yesterday. But then again, you reckon the nervosity might be linked to someone else entirely, to a person that fucked your perspective of love so thoroughly that you thought you never wanted to let anyone in again after him.

Yet San… San’s been digging his way into your life, and you’re not sure if you’ll survive the vulnerability that it brings.

“We went to his,” you admit. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you look at some weed growing in the middle of the dirt path like it hasn’t been trampled countless times already.

It’s almost poetic, the way that it stands tall despite everything that’s happened to it.

“And we also talked,” you add. “He explained what was happening with Kate, and I apologized for getting jealous. He teased me about it…”

“Mmh,” Sydney lets out.

You cock an eyebrow. “What?”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, it totally was good,” you reassure your friend. “It wasn’t mean, it was just… cute.” Sydney is smiling again when you look towards her. “What?”

“I just…” she trails off, slightly pursing your lips. “I’m relieved that you’re finally letting someone in again.”

Your throat dries out even though you had that exact thought just a few moments ago. “What do you mean?”

“After Jungkook,” Sydney starts, and you almost recoil at the sound of his name after so long. “Sorry,” your friend immediately apologizes.

“It’s okay.”

The words are bitter, but it is. It has to be okay, otherwise you’ll be back three years ago when you almost thought you would die.

“After him, I just didn’t think you’d be able to let someone in again. And it was hard to see how much you suffered from that.”

“I didn’t suffer from it,” you say defensively as a frown makes its way to your face.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way. I really am just happy and proud of you.”

You stretch your lips in a tight line, falling silent. Sydney sighs next to you, but the mention of Jungkook just striked too deep for you to keep talking about this. Sydney’s your best friend for a reason though - she senses your unease, hooking her arm with yours again.

“Did you fuck San yesterday?”

The crude words falling from her mouth surprise you, dissipating the tension that was rising. You let out a small laugh, one Sydney seems far too relieved to hear, and then you say, “He ate me out. But he literally creamed his pants.”

“I did not need to know that,” Sydney grumbles.

“You’re the one that asked!” She just rolls her eyes as an answer, and you shake your head at her. “And you’re so worse, you literally fucked my brother.”

“Oh gosh, stop.” She groans, her cheeks flashing red. “I… I shouldn’t even have told you.”

“As if,” you let out, not taking offense with her statement even though it could have been perceived as rude.

Sydney is just secretive, so you can’t blame her. You love her like that, and wouldn’t want her any other way anyway.

“Yeah, nah,” she says, and she joins you for a laugh. “I definitely wanted to tell you, but please, please do not make a big deal out of this. We’re slowly figuring it out.”

You nod, and you offer a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you guys figure it out at your own pace.” You fall silent, but then mischief sparks in your chest, and you add, “Even though it took you literal years to even get here.”

“You’re so annoying,” Sydney complains, and you just burst out laughing.

As you talked, you got closer to the group where they are gathered on the blankets, and you feel San’s heavy gaze on you. Your eyes find his, and for a moment, your earlier anxiety returns. But then he smiles and it fades away, and all you can hope for is that you’re not setting yourself up to get your barely healed heart broken again.

“What’s got you guys laughing?” San asks.

“Nothing,” Sydney quickly replies as she lets go of your arm, and then plops down on the blanket next to Lyla. “You guys opened the wine without us.”

“Y/n doesn’t drink,” Wooyoung points out as he takes a big sip from the red solo cup he’s holding. “So we figured it was fine.”

“What about me?” Sydney asks.

Lyla hands her a cup. “I got you, girl.”

Sydney beams as she takes a sip of the wine while you make your way towards San, sitting next to him.

“Hey,” he greets you as you’re adjusting yourself to be comfortable on the blanket.

You meet his gaze. His eyes are sparkling softly, like maybe the sun that’s sinking towards the horizon now is sinking into his eyes instead. “Hi.”

“You were gone for a while,” he says, just for you to hear, and you don’t miss the pouty tone to his voice.

“Missed me?” you tease.

He narrows his gaze, taking a sip from his solo cup. “Nah.”

You snort, nudging him with your elbow. “Yeah, yeah.”

He winks at you and then hands you the solo cup. “Do you want to taste?”

You think about it. You truly do, even if you haven’t tasted a drop of alcohol in years now. But then again San’s eyes are soft, his smile genuine, and you think why not?

“Just a tiny sip,” you agree, and his gaze widens in surprise.

He hands you the cup, and you take it, electricity shooting up your fingers and along your arm as you graze his fingers. You bring the solo cup to your lips, tilting it just enough for your lip to dip in the rose liquid. The taste fills your mouth, and your nose scrunches up in reflex at the bitterness on your tongue.

“Ew,” you let out as you move the cup away from your lips, handing it back to San.

He laughs at your expanse, taking a sip of his own. “It isn’t that bad.”

You cock an eyebrow. “It isn’t that good either.”

“Your loss.”

You widen your eyes before letting out a small disbelieving laugh. “You’re annoying.”

San leans in to speak in your ear. “That’s not what you were saying when I had my tongue in you yesterday.”

You choke on your saliva, coughing at San’s crude words. You pull away, cheeks burning, only for you to find him grinning at you crookedly. “San!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Gosh, you so are.”

He leans in again, and this time you don’t turn your head to let him speak in your ear. Instead, you hold his gaze despite the close proximity, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Maybe I should do it again tonight, mmh? To remind you how much you liked it?”

Your gaze drops to his lips. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one that creamed his pants, mmh?”

San winces as he laughs. “Touché. It was just…”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Wooyoung intervenes, and you instinctively pull away from San, cheeks red at being caught. You find yourself unable to reply as San just shrugs next to you, and Wooyoung narrows his gaze at you. “Alright then, keep your secrets.”

You share a look with San, and then you both burst out laughing.

The rest of the afternoon unfolds without a hitch, laughter and smiles and alcohol flowing amongst the friend group. San doesn’t drink too much - neither does Hongjoong, who admits he still feels hungover from the wine and cheese yesterday evening. The others don’t have that limit - it’s like they all are ready to party again, and you watch them from your corner of the blanket with San, who’s decided to use your lap as a pillow.

You only realize he’s fallen asleep while you card your fingers through his hair and Wooyoung looks at the two of you, fake-gagging.

“He did not fall asleep,” Wooyoung deadpans.

You look down, and San’s serene expression makes you smile softly. “Leave him alone, he’s just tired.”

Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows. “I wonder why.”

You roll your eyes as he bursts out laughing. San shifts on your lap, a frown creasing his brow, and you gently smooth it with the tip of your fingers. His lips spread in a tired smile, and it does something to your heart that you can’t explain, yet want to feel again.

It’s soft - San has a softness to him that can’t be described with words. It’s like the first sun rays in the morning, or the breeze of a summer afternoon. It’s like the brightness of the stars when the moon is away - twinkling gently, forever. Like the rise and fall of an infant’s chest as it rests peacefully. You’d go on and on trying to find comparisons, yet you’re unsure any of them would come close to explaining what San does to you.

The thought sticks with you until later that evening, when you all start parting ways. San wakes up slowly, wiping some drool on his chin as he blinks his eyes at you, gaze unfocused. It takes him a moment to understand where he is, and then he just smiles tiredly, sighing deeply.

“Good morning,” you tease him.

“Mmh.”

Wooyoung sneaks closer to you, pinching San’s side. San yelps, sitting up quickly as he curses Wooyoung, and your gaze widens as you watch them wrestling for a few seconds. But then you look up, meeting Sydney's gaze, and you both burst out laughing.

Boys will be boys, or whatever it is.

*****

“Are you sure?” San asks for the fifth time.

You’re standing outside of your building, and you’ve been trying to convince him to come in with you. It’s been getting chillier outside now that the sun has set, and though you’ve spent the whole day together, you don’t want him to go just yet.

“Yes, I am,” you insist, tugging on his hand, but he doesn’t budge.

“I don’t want to bother your brother.”

You roll your eyes. “Syd will take care of him.”

Sydney who’s standing by the door throws you a look at her name being called. She doesn’t say anything though, not when San smirks. “Oh, will she?”

Gosh.

“Come have dinner with us,” you say, and this time your voice holds finality, not giving him a choice.

You turn around, pulling him behind you as Sydney waits with her cheeks tinted red from San’s words. You wink at her, and she chuckles as she opens the door, holding it for you as you walk in with San in tow. It doesn’t take you long before you’re in front of your own apartment, unlocking the door.

You find Yunho engrossed in some YouTube video he’s been watching on the TV, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as San walks in, standing by the door. Sydney saves you by heading to where Yunho is laying on the couch, and you kick off your shoes pulling San towards your bedroom.

“Hey, why don’t you guys come here?” Yunho asks.

You curse under your breath - not that you don’t want to spend time with your brother and Sydney, but you were kind of hoping you’d get to spend time alone with San.

You meet San’s gaze momentarily, and he just watches you with his mouth slightly open, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Your heart fills with warmth like it’s been doing all day, and then you tug him towards the living room. You drop your tote bag against the wall in front of the door on the way, and then make your way to the living room.

“Sure,” you say as you catch sight of Yunho sitting now, with Sydney next to him. “Just don’t tear into him.”

“Why would I?” Yunho says. “We’re friends.”

Right. Though you’re not sure you would call them friends just because they have a friend in common.

“What’s up?” Yunho throws at San.

“Not much, just got dragged here by your sister,” San answers, shrugging his shoulders.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t act like you didn’t want to come here.”

He winks at you. “It’s hard to tell you no.”

You just shake your head playfully, lips curving into an amused smile before you look towards Yunho again.

“Wow,” is all Yunho says.

“What?”

“Did I just see you smiling at a man?”

“What the fuck?” you burst out as Sydney pushes him.

“Shut up, Yunho,” she tells him.

“Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, dumbass.”

Sydney turns fifteen different shades of red as Yunho’s gaze brightens, though blush tints his cheeks too. You sit on the couch next to Sydney, and San moves next to you, slowly sitting down. There’s another awkward silence that lingers until Yunho asks how the afternoon was, and you tell him about the park.

You don’t mention the conversation you had with Sydney, though. You keep that to yourself, instead telling him about the frisbee, and the wine, and the weather that hinted at summer. It breaks the ice, and soon conversation starts flowing between the four of you, almost as if San was always part of your little group.

You end up ordering Korean fried chicken for dinner, and you all eat sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table as you watch a movie Sydney recommended. It’s a good movie, and from the corner of your eyes, you notice how Sydney is cuddling into Yunho’s side. You can’t help your smile at the sight, relieved that they have finally made it to each other.

You’ve been dreaming of it for so long after all.

“They’re adorable,” San whispers in your ear.

You nod, eyes sparkling as you meet his gaze. “I’m really happy for them.”

San’s lips spread in a soft smile as he looks between your eyes, his gaze then dropping to your mouth. Your throat feels suddenly dry, the space between the two of you filling with electricity, and you become aware that he’s just a hair's breadth away, close enough that you could brush your lips against his if only you moved an inch forward.

Though the gravity of him is strong, you resist, instead sitting back in your spot with your back against the couch. He chuckles, and then focuses on the movie again. He spreads his legs, his thigh pressing against yours. You’d curse him for it if your brother and best friend weren’t right next to you.

But two can play that game, can’t they?

So you press your thigh into his, slightly shifting so that you can angle your body towards him. You catch him smirking from the corner of your eyes as if that was what he wanted you to do, and so you decide to go further, your hand falling to his leg. It lands right next to the spot where you’re touching, and you feel San slightly tensing.

Especially as you start tracing idle shapes on his skin through the fabric of his pants. He spreads his legs even more, chasing the sensation. It emboldens you, so you lay your head on his shoulder. It brings you so close to him that you feel it when he takes his next breath, and you press your lips together to refrain from smiling smugly.

But you keep your hand on his thigh, idle circles getting closer to his dick with every slow pass. You try to make it as subtle as you can, and San gulps.

Right before you’re about to actually touch his dick, San leans in to speak into your hair, his voice so low you can barely hear him. “You should stop this before your brother notices.”

There’s something husky about the way he speaks, and desire floods your system. But all you do is wet your lips, your idle circles inching away from him this time. He doesn’t seem like he likes it - he moves, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest.

You blush. You blush even though the living room is dark except for the light coming from the TV, which is thankfully on a darker scene at the moment. But you blush as you’re keenly aware that Sydney shoots you a glance.

You’re not big on PDA. Have never been, yet you don’t shrug San off. Don’t try to move away. Not when his body is so warm and he moulds you into his side like you belong there. And for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to think that you do.

That maybe you’re allowed to love again after your ex. It’s been years after all - it’s not like you believed you had to stay single for the rest of your life. You just never had a romantic interest for someone after Jungkook, especially not with how things ended. But San…

It’s just been so easy with him, even though it’s only been two weeks. Two weeks, yet you feel like a small eternity has passed. Maybe because of how natural it feels to be by his side.

The movie ends a little while later, with Sydney and Yunho cuddling on their side of the couch while you and San cuddle on yours. You move away from San first, stretching as Yunho turns off the movie at the beginning of the credits. Sydney imitates you a second later, though her stretch is accompanied by a yawn.

“I think I should go home for the night,” she says.

“Are you not sleeping over?” Yunho asks, and there’s a pout in his voice.

What a lovesick idiot.

“I don’t have my stuff,” she says, but you don’t miss the way she throws you and San a not-so subtle look.

Yunho misses it though. He frowns, looking towards you as if you’ll help. “You have a tooth brush here and you can use Y/n’s stuff for a shower.”

“Right,” Sydney lets out, and she glances at you with apology in her gaze.

You shrug your shoulders to reassure her, and then you glance at San. “Come.”

He cocks an eyebrow in question as you get up, hand extended for him to take. He glances at your hand, his fingers closing around yours just a heartbeat later.

“Where are you bringing me, woman?”

His tone is teasing, and you just chuckle. “To my room… boy.”

“Hey, I’m not a boy!”

You laugh as he gets up. “Are you not? I didn’t think you were a girl.”

He rolls his eyes. “Gosh, you’re…” He trails off as if only then realizing that Yunho and Sydney are watching the two of you curiously. “A very nice lady,” he concludes, and you all burst out laughing.

“Good night, losers,” you tell Sydney and Yunho, and then you’re pulling San to your bedroom, with no interruption this time.

“Good night?” San repeats behind you. “We’re going to bed?”

“Unless you want to go home?” you say, though you don’t slow down, still tugging him towards your room, though you do stop on the way to grab your tote bag, still filled with everything you brought to San’s place yesterday night.

“I’m a little tired,” he says.

“Well then.” You open the door of your bedroom. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He laughs, walking in before you. You follow him, turning on the lights - multiple strings of fairy lights with fake leaves intertwined hanging from the wall that your bed is pushed against. They work with an app on your phone, so you just turn them on that way, appreciating the soft glow that reigns on your room a second later.

You close the door as San scans your room. “This is small.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you let out, faking offense.

He chuckles. “I love it. Love the lights, and the plushie.”

Your eyes trail to your bed, on top of which rests the Winnie the Pooh plushie you got years ago when you went to Disney with your family.

“It’s adorable, isn’t it?”

San sits on your bed, grabbing the plushie. “Definitely.” He cuddles it to his chest, resting his chin on top of it.

You smile, and dimples appear in his cheeks as you take a step closer to him. The sight of him in your bed, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed feelings you too have been feeling, is enough to make you pull on Winnie until he lets it go. You throw the plushie, making yourself at home between his legs as you cup his cheeks.

San gulps, tilting his head back to look you in the eyes as you lean in. You stop just an inch away from his mouth, looking between his two eyes repeatedly as if they host the answer to the Universe.

And maybe they do. Maybe they hold the answers of the universe you live in.

“I…” you whisper, and his gaze drops to your mouth.

“You?” he presses, voice breathy.

You don’t know. You don’t know what you wanted to say. So you continue with the only thing that makes sense, breathing out, “San.”

He says your name with the same reverence, and then you’re closing the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips on his. He sighs softly, moving to hold your waist as you gently brush his cheek with a thumb, your other hand shifting to the back of his head.

The kiss reveals an inner light in you that you thought had died with Jungkook. It reveals a land of endless possibilities, of vulnerability you don’t know if you’re ready to let in. Yet it’s knocking at your door, and when San swipes your bottom lip with his tongue, you know it’s too late to stop.

So you kiss him harder, deeper, meeting his tongue with yours until his grip tightens on you. Until your lungs run out of oxygen, and then you straddle his lap, never disconnecting your mouth from his. Because you don’t want to - tonight, Choi San is the oxygen in your lungs.

San caresses your back, one hand going up to hold the back of your neck as the other goes down, gripping at the meat of your ass. You let out a breathy sound that’s barely noticeable through the intensity of the moment, one you know will be repeated countless times tonight.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop tonight. You want him - all of him, completely.

You want to come undone, together with him.

You gently push him down until he’s lying on his back, your lips still dancing together, tongues mingling like you’re trying to drink his very essence. But then you sit back on him, breathing rapidly as your lungs seek for much needed oxygen. Just like him, whose chest is going up and down quickly as he watches you taking your shirt off, tossing it aside.

Your mouths collide with more intent then, passion taking over the two of you as San’s fingers aim for the clasp of your bra in your back. He fumbles with it for a few heartbeats until it comes undone, and then he gently slips your bra down your arms. You disconnect for a moment so that he can throw the piece of clothing to the floor, and then your lips are on his again.

It’s languid. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted - there’s danger in the speed at which you’re catching feelings, but it’s too late.

It’s too late, and you can’t bring yourself to care.

San’s large hands caress your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as you tease his bottom lip with your teeth. He lets out a small groan, and then his hands move forward, finding your breasts. He massages them, pushing them together, and then his deft fingers find your nipples, gently squeezing them.

You moan. A light sound, one meant just for his ears, and then you’re sitting back on him again, just so that you can circle your hips with your core against his growing erection. His eyebrows bunch together, his lips parted on a silent sound you so wish you had heard, but one you know should remain silent.

Indeed, you can hear Sydney and Yunho talking in the living room, and the last thing you’d want would be for them to hear you having sex with San.

San says your name, a whisper that wraps around your heart like the warm embrace of a lover - something you’re realizing San might become to you - and then he grinds his hips in yours, his length rubbing on your core through the clothes.

It’s sinful, passionate, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I want you,” you say, echoing the words you said last night. “I really want you, San.”

He wets his lips, grinding on you again. “Do you have condoms?”

You freeze. You don’t - you’ve finished the box you owned a couple of months ago with a one night stand you met at a bar at the beginning of the summer. And you’ve never thought to buy more because you weren’t actively seeking to have sex after that.

“I…” you let out, and then you chuckle awkwardly. “I don’t. Don’t you have one?”

San winces, and then his mouth falls open as you circle your hips on him again. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Fuck, Y/n.”

It’s the way he says your name. It takes all of its meaning in his mouth, and you lean forward to kiss him again. He meets every swipe of your tongue with a languid swipe of his, and your core warms up to an uncomfortable level. You’re growing wet, soaking through your panties, and you know you won’t be able to stop tonight.

“I don’t,” San says a moment later - you can’t tell if it’s been a few seconds or an hour.

Kissing him does that to your brain.

“Huh?”

San pecks your mouth once more, and you look down at his glistening, swollen lips as he repeats. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

He breaks into a smile, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I don’t have a condom.”

You freeze for the second time in not too long, your heart skipping a beat in your chest.

Shit.

“Oh.”

“I…” he starts, though he seems at a loss for words for a few heartbeats. “I didn’t expect us to have sex tonight.” He wets his lips, attracting your gaze to his mouth. “I actually genuinely didn’t think I’d come here at all.” At the slight frown that appears on your features, San quickly adds, “I’m happy I did, though.”

You nod once, smiling softly. “I’m happy you did, too.”

You cup his cheek from where you’re sitting on his dick, and it twitches in his pants as your thumb teases his bottom lip. You feel powerful, like you’re sitting on a throne and not on his lap - it’s all thanks to him, and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

“I gotta admit I really fucking want you too,” he says, his voice resembling a growl.

You’re barely surprised when he sits up to kiss your lips again. Indeed, you’re immediately kissing him back, tasting all of him until he’s the only thing in your mind.

Until you forget all about the world - all that’s left is Choi San, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let your hands explore his body, appreciating his hard muscles through the shirt he’s wearing. It’s a little on the thicker side - he’d put it on back at the park when it started getting chillier - yet you can still feel his hard-earned body. It emboldens you, turns you on even more, and you’re pulling on the hem of his shirt a second later, letting him know you want him to take it off.

He understands the cue, and he’s pulling away from the kiss just long enough to take his shirt off, revealing the t-shirt underneath. He’s about to kiss you again when you stop him with a hand on his chest.

You can feel his quick heartbeats on your palm, and he just looks at you with questions in his eyes.

“Take it off, too,” you say, motioning to his t-shirt.

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. “I guess it’s just fair, mmh?”

You don’t reply anything, too distracted by the body that’s revealed when he finally takes the t-shirt off. And though you saw his body yesterday, there’s just something about the strong planes of his chest that makes you roll your hips into his, and San’s hands shoot to your waist to guide your motions.

It’s hot, even if your panties are sticking to your pussy uncomfortably from how soaked they are.

“You know what’s wild?” he says with a low, husky voice that sends shivers down your spine.

“What?” you breathe out.

“I deadass think you could make me come like this,” he admits with not even a single ounce of shame. “You turn me on so fucking much.”

You moan as he grinds up into you again. Even with all the clothes between you and him, you can still feel how hard he is, and your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Fuck, San.”

“I know,” he lets out, capturing your lips in a wet kiss. “I know, baby.”

“I need to feel you,” you purr. “I…”

You don’t finish your sentence, instead getting up. San watches you, leaning back on his hands, as you finish undressing, breathing a sigh of relief when your panties finally stop sticking to your pussy. You drop them to the floor, fully aware that San’s eyeing you up and down. It makes you feel hot, more attractive than you’ve ever felt - it helps that his bulge is so evident, protruding from his pants so much you think he might rip through them.

But it looks uncomfortable, and you want to relieve him. Want to feel him - will feel him. So you lean closer, fingers finding the button of his pants, and then you’re doing quick work of taking the rest of his clothes off, too. His boxers follow his pants right away, his dick slapping on his abdomen from how hard he already is.

You haven’t seen him fully naked before. He’s always kept either his shirt or pants on, and you understand why.

You think you would have gone insane if you’d seen him fully naked before. It’s just so sinful - he’s a Greek god sent down to Earth to whisk you away to Olympus. But in all honesty, you think you go a little insane anyway as you look at him now, watching the bead of precum that sits on his slit.

“Fuck.”

The word falls from your lips right in time with San’s dick twitching as you reach for it, running a finger along his length. San just surveys you as you’re doing so, so out of breath he looks like he’s just finished a marathon.

Your finger stops at his slit, smearing the precum on his tip. San throws his head back, eyes shutting in time with his mouth falling open as you wrap your hand around him next, giving him a stroke up and down.

You’re dripping. Dripping between your legs, your juices rolling down the inside of your thighs. You doubt you’ve ever been so wet before, and you’d be embarrassed of it if San didn’t look so helpless from just your hand on him.

And maybe you’re wild for it, maybe you’re stupid, but you push him back down on the bed, straddling his lap again. The lack of fabric between the two of you when your pussy rubs on his dick from the motion makes the both of you moan, and you still with his tip nudging your clit, your mind swimming in ecstasy already.

“Holy shit,” San lets out. “Fuck, I…”

And then he’s moving, grinding against you, coating his length in your juices. You don’t move, almost hoping he’ll slip inside of you as he goes back and forth, the friction on your clit enough to make your vision blurry.

But you need more. Want more, need the friction to send you flying over the edge. So you lean forward, finding leverage on his shoulders as you start moving too, and San lets you take the lead, grunting under you as you rub your clit on his hard length.

He feels heavenly. He feels like you’re about to reach nirvana, and you genuinely think you might. It’s just too good, and his hands on your hips so gentle despite the actions you’re partaking in that you know you’ll be able to come in no time.

He murmurs your name, eyes still closed as he takes in the sensation of you on him, and you bend down until you can kiss him again. He takes over then, slowly pushing his dick harder into you as he rubs your clit. Your walls clench around nothing, and you’re so wet you know he might accidentally slip right in.

You don’t care - you want him to. You want to know what it would feel like to be impaled by his large dick, to feel him stretching your walls.

So do you slightly shift when he moves back? You do. Just enough for his tip to starts slipping inside of you, and San immediately pulls his hips back, even as you try to chase him. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you in place, and then he delivers a light slap to your ass.

“Be nice, mmh?” he lets out.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck as he starts rubbing his dick on your clit once more. You moan in his ear, and then go straight to the skin of his neck, sucking on it just hard enough to leave a faint purple mark behind.

But then you’re sitting back, and this time with a goal. You need completion, need to come undone, so you add your motions to San’s, being careful not to push his dick inside of you again. It’s so good your eyes roll to the back of your head, and it doesn’t take long before you start feeling a knot forming in your lower stomach.

Your hand is on his chest as you grind on him, your free one moving to your breast so that you can pinch your nipple. San gets the message, and then he’s pushing your hand away from your breast, replacing it with his.

The second he squeezes your nipple between his thumb and index you’re coming undone, your climax hitting almost out of nowhere.

It’s too good, far too good, and you go limp, falling into his chest as he keeps going, his rhythm accelerating for a few heartbeats until a warm liquid squirts all over your lower stomach, though it mostly falls on his. Even then San keeps moving, but he slows down, his motions sloppy until he entirely stops.

Your room is silent then except for your mingling breaths, and San holds you as you slowly come down from the high, your head resting on his chest. It takes a while for his heartbeat to slow down, and you only raise your head to meet his gaze once his heart does go back to a normal rhythm.

He’s already looking at you, eyes shining brightly like a star was born in their depths. You can’t help yourself - you kiss him, but this time it’s softer than a feather. It’s the perfect conclusion to the action that just unfolded, and you sigh in contentment, eyes still shut as you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyelids flutter open to see San with his eyes still closed. He sighs too, a lazy smile growing on his lips, and you chuckle at the sight.

“I can’t believe we just basically fucked without fucking,” you comment.

He snorts, and then you both burst out laughing.

“What are you doing to me, woman?” San asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. “You’re so…” His eyes flutter open. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that, right?”

Pink dusts your cheeks. “Stop, I’m not.”

“To me, you are,” he insists as he shuts his eyes again with the same satisfied smile on his lips. “I’ve never come like this before. You really turn me on so much, you have no clue.”

“Then why don’t you carry a condom around, mmh?”

He chuckles. “You still came, didn’t you?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up just enough so that you can look at the mess between the two of you. “Like you didn’t? You made a mess.”

He cracks an eye open to glare at you playfully. “It’s your fault. You’re the one that started grinding on me.”

“No regrets,” you tease, and you both laugh again.

When the laughter recedes, you reach for the box of tissue on your bedside table, putting it on the bed next to you. And then you grab some tissues, sitting back on San so that you can clean your lower stomach. He makes to reach for some tissues too, but you swat his hand away. He laughs softly, and then looks at you with those sparkling eyes of his as you clean him up too.

“You’re sleeping over, right?” you ask.

San smiles, tilting his head to the side. “I’m getting the feeling that you wouldn’t let me leave even if I wanted to.”

“You want to leave?” you say with a pout.

He props himself up on his elbows, and the muscles on his chest shift from the switch in position. It’s hot, almost enough to get you going again, so you quickly look away, meeting his gaze instead.

“Not at all,” he answers truthfully. “I just want to sleep with you.”

You cock an eyebrow, mischief in your gaze. “To sleep with me, mmh?”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, sleep. To sleep with you in my arms like we did yesterday.”

Butterflies take flight in your stomach, and you barely can hold your smile. San just looks at it for a few seconds, and then he sits up to kiss you softly as he loses one hand in your hair.

“We should probably take a shower first, though,” he says in the space between the two of you as he leans his forehead against yours.

You agree. You definitely should, yet you don’t want to leave the comfort of the safe haven that your room is. But you have to, so you force yourself to pull away from his forehead, turning your head to the side so that you can focus on the sounds in the apartment.

It’s dead silent, and though you wait a couple of seconds, Yunho and Sydney don’t make themselves heard at all.

“Do you think they went to bed?” you ask.

San ponders for a few seconds as he, too, listens to the apartment. “Seems like it.”

You nod once, and then you’re getting up. You grab San’s t-shirt, putting it on quickly before he can steal it from your hands. He just smiles at the sight as you hand him his pants.

You put a pair of PJ shorts on while he gets dressed, and then you guide him to the bathroom so that you can take a shower together.

Later, when you’re finally tucked in bed with your head on his shoulder, his arm holding you close to him, you trace idle shapes on his stomach. San kisses the top of your head, bringing a smile to your lips, and you peck his jaw.

He kisses you a second later, and though it’s short, his heart is beating quicker in his chest when you lean your head against him once more after. It fills you with warmth, and you nuzzle your face in his neck, breathing in the distinct scent of him.

You fall asleep entwined with him, dreams of a park and a dimpled smile occupying your night.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

soooo did you like this chapter? let me knoooow, i love hearing about everyone's thoughts!

#be with you ch 5 #be with you #san smut #san angst #san fluff #san fic #san x you #san x reader #san #choi san smut #choi san fluff #choi san angst #choi san x you #choi san x reader #choi san fic #choi san #be with you series

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celuere · 3 months ago

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Hello! Celuere, you don't know how long I've wanted to see some OC x Arle fanfiction (since the first ship chart, >:), so now that you have given us permission to ignore your closed request status regarding them, I feel obligated to share how desperately I want this scenario between them.

I'd like to request a fluffy but suggestive oneshot where it's the morning and Arlecchino pretends to be asleep with her head on Juno-Celia's (is just Juno fine, or no?) breasts because she loves hearing her heartbeat and being close to her (physical touch love language, yeah I actually read and remember that ship chart). I think Juno-Celia would immediately, figure it out, and half-heartedly "try to go to work" but on the inside she's going absolutely feral about how clingy Arlecchino is. From just vibes off the chart and art, I feel like she'd try to embarass Arle for trying such childish tricks on her by teasing her or something, and Arle would be 100% unaffected because T I T T I E S and she's a simp for her wife.

Btw, please correct me if i read the vibes way wrong. I'd love to know more about your OC, but you also have like 5 posts on her total, so not a ton to know her (this is my plea for more Juno-Celia content please, if you don't mind ;)

no you actually read the vibes 100% right kekenwoekownw arle is a PROUD wife simper actually😭 and just juno is totally fine i rarely call her celia etc. BUT OKAY LESS TALKING MORE WRITING, I‘M MORE THAN HAPPY TO INDULGE IN YOUR REQUEST

pairing: arlecchino x fem!oc

cw: none other than arle being a pathetic lesbian and some oc lore

you‘re welcome to self insert here btw! also if you‘re not interested in this content, you‘re free to mute my arlexoc stuff under the arlejuno tag!

implied nsft at the end!

the sun in snezhnaya had risen long ago, yet not a lot of its shine broke through the coat of the everlasting winter, therefore drowning the bedroom in a cold light.

her eyes darted away from her research report to the clock that’s been softly ticking away on the wall.

8 am.

„you know, just because it‘s your free day doesn’t mean you can occupy me for the whole morning…“, raising the sheets of papers to have a proper look at the white-black mix of hair resting on her chest, juno adjusted the position of the glasses resting on her nose.

no answer.

the fingers fidgeting with her purple locks gave it away.

„peru, i know you're awake.", it only earned her a rather annoyed hum.

„ten more minutes", arlecchino's voice came out muffled against her skin, face only sinking deeper into her cleavage. it was pointless.

„honey, i have to get to my lab... sandrone still needs me to calculate through a whole pile of data regarding her research and there is a whole shelf of potions waiting to be tested.“, juno nodded her head to the empty side of the bed. specifically arlecchino's side, „and you've been clinging to me for the whole night."

but she loved the view of her wife clinging to her like a second skin. always did. if she had the choice she'd just stay here in bed with her all day, watching her back fall and rise with each breath, the usual stern look replaced by a face of pure calmness and relaxation… juno would always choose to stay with her.

„i‘m failing to see the point you are trying to make.“

„i need to go to work, peruere.“

„you don’t…“, she pressed another tender kiss to the skin that she exposed earlier by shoving the fabric of juno‘s silken robe aside, clearly not caring about her wife‘s urgency. why does she have to work anyways on her free day? it almost feels like an insult to the harbinger. but knowing her since the ripe age of six years old… juno has always been caught up in researches and other experiments. back to their days under mother‘s care, she would occasionally slip a selfmade contraceptive into crucabena‘s drink when they wanted to have a free afternoon. and now she is the one teaching the children to make their own poisons. how times change, huh?

„what would the subordinates think of the knave if they were to find out about how she clings to her wife every morning… that would make a truly embarrassing headline in the newspaper…“, unable to bite that remark down, a nail poked arlecchino right into her cheek.

but at least she finally lifted her head up to properly look at her wife and the smug look plastered on her face, „let them find out… what else are they supposed to discover? i have no reason to hide the obvious feelings i shelter for my wife.“, when did she start getting so close?! hands coming back up again to shove the sheets of paper between their faces again, juno became incredibly flustered at the sudden confession, but arlecchino only removed the reports completely from her grip, placing them on the nightstand.

„you‘re flustered.“

„i-i‘m not…“

„you‘re avoiding my eyes, there is a visible blush tainting your cheeks and…“, black fingers shoved a bunch of purple strands back, „your ears are sinking downwards with each word leaving my lips. i‘d say you are pretty flustered.“, the slightest hint of a smile grazed her lips at the obvious victory as a pair of blue eyes found her own.

„j-just let me get ready for work, peru…“

„i‘m certain you don‘t actually want to spend the next seven hours calculating out equation over equation…“, arlecchino suppressed the urge to stroke over her wife‘s sensitive ears. the lecture she earned herself the last time still rung in her head. she might not fear a lot of things but juno when she is angry… she‘d rather not provoke it.

and she‘d rather not get exiled to the sofa again.

„…fine, ten more minutes.“

„make it fifteen.“

„ten.“

„thirteen.“

„…ten with your head between my legs. take it or leave it.“

her only answer being the rustling of the sheets as arlecchino disappeared underneath the covers, skilled fingers already working down her slip.

works everytime.

#albarequests #squirrelboxer #arlejuno #MY SHAYLAAAAAAS #i hate how they well they fit together in my mind #dare i say they‘re made for each other….#genshin oc x canon #genshin oc #oc x canon #oc character #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #arlecchino #arlecchino x oc

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lilbardrhi · 4 months ago

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"Broken", Not Stupid Masterlist

Status: Ayyy~ I might be back now! We shall see lol (5/8/2025)

Pairing(s): alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

Content Warnings: Omegaverse; cult/cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult; talk of omegas being 'locked up' during their heats; negative self-talk

Summary:

Laswell, We've been made aware of an organization called Salvation and come into contact with an individual who has intel on the mistreatment of countless omegas. The mistreatment we're aware of so far inlcude dehumanization and outright buying child omegas. My lieutenant has assured me that there is far more to this list of mistreatments, but we've yet to sit down and hear statements from the individual. On a more personal note - this inidividual is who Ghost seems to have chosen as his omega. He took her in directly from a Salvation facility. From what he's told me so far, there's far more than meets the eye with Salvation. They have facilities across the world in almost every country. This will take time, we all know, but it's not something we can ignore. Captain Johnathan Price

Author's Note: Y'all, please be careful with this one. It will get dark. Specifically with Salvation - our favorite war criminals are just going about their ways, as per usual. I'll update the content warnings as I go. Any chapter-specific content warnings will be at the top of each chapter, but regular, fic-arching content warnings will be listed here.

Chapters

1: Welcome to Your Salvation 2: Her Name is... 3: ...13 Bonus - Nesting Supplies 4: There Are Worse Options 5: McDonald's 6: Call in the Calvary 7: A Quick Phone Call 8: Home? 9: Shoulders Aren't Earrings 10: Just a Rat... Right? 11: Johnny! 12: A Lot Like You 13: If You're Not Ready... Don't. 14: What Do You Do? 15: You're Pretty... 16: I Am Broken 17: Way Back When 18: ...

#rhi writes #bns #masterlist #cod omegaverse #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost cod #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley cod

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boujiestpoet · 8 months ago

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STARCROSSED ( Charles Leclerc x Oc)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

Summary: It really takes a village pt1

FACECLAIM: The extraordinary Tems

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE CHARACTERS DOES NOT REFLECT THE REAL PERSONALITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL UPON WHOM THEY ARE BASED. I AM MERELY BORROWING THEIR PHYSICAL LIKENESS AND THE PROFESSION THEY HAVE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS NARRATIVE

TW: Cringiness from the writer, grammatical errors (have mercy english is my semi firsr language)

Monte Carlo, Monaco

It was a quiet night, the sky an inky velvet blanket shined with stars, the streets nearly deserted. The gentle hum of the sea lapping against the harbor could barely be heard through the open window of Charles Leclerc’s apartment. Charles was slumped on his couch, and his mother Pascale sat beside him, she was the only anchor of peace he had at the moment.

For a while they remained silent, the silence was not as comforting as it usually was.

Pascale knew her son, his way of thinking and problem solving, but clearly at the moment her son was feeling suffocated by his own thoughts.

“ Charles” her voice was soft, she placed her hand gently on his hand, rubbing in a slow comforting circle.

“ You don’t need to say anything, remember I’m always hear”

He raised his head, his eyes read and glossy. He blinked, taking in the familiar faces of his mother, he deeply exhaled he was finally safe at home.

“ Maman it hurts” he said, his voice almost inaudible “ I thought that she..” his voice shaked, the sentence trailing off as a fresh wave of pain hit him.

She continued to try to console the young man, looking at him with compassion. Charles’ eyes sparkled everytime when he was talking about Leah, everybody could see that the driver was in love. Obviously in all relationships there was some up and down, but with more time passed, more problems were showing up.

“ You really loved her didn’t you?” she asked

Charles softly nodded, “ I did……I thought we were something special and deep, we promised each other that we would be there for each other, in any situation"

“ Did you think she was the one Charles?” she asked, the room was silent one more time. She carefully stared at him, while he was trying to force words out of his mouth, but nothing came out, he didn’t have an answer.

“ It’s alright if you don’t know” shesaid, her voice filled with love.

Charles swallowed hard “ I really thought she was the one Maman” his voice was croaky “After all this I don’t know…. how can I ?” he rubbed his face confused

“ I still can’t believe, I didn’t expect it, yes I’ve busy….” he sighed “ her best friend’s boyfriend, how can she be the one I fell in love?” he said astonished.

“ Charles you loved her, of course you trusted her, but unfortunately sometimes the people we love the most are the one who hurt us”

Charles leaned into his mother’s embrace, resting his head on her shoulder, he didn’t say anything else for a long time.

"Do you think I’ll ever find someone who’s really… the one?" he asked eventually, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Pascale smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You will. But you don’t need to rush it, Charles. Love will come when it’s meant to. And when it does, you’ll know. Truly know."

Charles closed his eyes, letting her words settle into his heart, allowing himself the small comfort they brought. He didn’t have all the answers right now, and maybe that was okay.

Maybe healing didn’t come from having everything figured out, but from the quiet moments of support, the love that never wavered, even when everything else did.

..................................................................................

Can Money buy Forgiveness ?

By: Sarah Caldwell | Celebrity Insider

It looks like drama is brewing in the celebrity world once again! According to reports, since 5 a.m. this morning, a flurry of activity has been spotted outside actress Renée's house. Couriers have been seen going in and out, delivering flowers and lavish gifts, sparking speculation. An insider has apparently managed to get a scoop from one of the delivery drivers, who confirmed that the gifts are coming from none other than model Ben Fields.

For those not in the loop, Ben Fields allegedly cheated on Renée with her best friend, influencer Leah Dawn. The question on everyone's mind now: is Ben trying to win Renée back after his betrayal? Only time will tell if these grand gestures are enough to heal the damage caused by the scandalous affair.

Stay tuned for updates!

AN: She's back with another one. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS NEW CHAPTER. How do you feel about real life and social media being in one chapter. Advice is welcome just be nice.

#black!reader #f1 smau #f1 x black!reader #black!oc #f1 x reader #smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #f1 fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for telling someone that they didn’t actually care about me when they sent a message checking to make sure I was okay?

I want to preface this with: I am probably TA in this situation but I want to know if I am justified or overreacting

So i was in this discord server for a guild in an mmorpg and while it was fine at first, over time i started noticing that when I would say anything (not even just when talking about the game) the conversation nine times out of ten would either skip over everything i said or just die until a few hours or days later when someone else would say something.

The most active people in the server were friends with someone who has me blocked on everything despite never having interacted with each other (based on what i know about the person, they likely blocked me during some fandom drama where a man who had been harassing me for almost two years straight was picking new targets and I called him out on being a creep)- this normally wouldn’t be a problem, except that someone did a gift art of one of that person’s ocs and it spawned a roughly 3 hour conversation about how cool the person is.

Because I wasn’t in a great place mentally, I took that as a sign that I should stop bothering people who don’t want me to be there, deleted all my messages from the server as I left it, took all of my characters out of the guild, and carried on as usual.

Here’s where it gets tricky:

The guild leader messaged me about 5 days after i left the server asking me if I was alright and if they could help. I responded that I left because I didn’t want to start any drama and they clearly preferred someone who didn’t like me, and I didn’t want to intrude where I wasn’t really wanted. They responded back a few hours later saying that they valued my friendship and that they would send me another invite back to the guild if i wanted it. I responded to them by telling them basically that since nobody really wanted to talk to me anyway and they all clearly preferred the other person, that their concern didn’t read as sincere and the conversation went quiet from there.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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lillaydee · 5 months ago

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One More Try Part 5

Landlord Joel Miller / Reader

They say a woman is tested when her man has nothing. But a man is tested when he has everything. What happens if you both passed the test, but your partners did not?

WARNINGS:

Unplanned Pregnancy, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), SO MUCH FLUFF, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Reader was pregnant before meeting Joel, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (Not OC), Landlord Joel, No Outbreak AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 4

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***WARNING***

Non-graphic (and possibly inaccurate) descriptions of childbirth.

I am not at all knowledgeable on the law in the US and how it works.

I also am not an expert in childbirth, or any of the possible complications that might occur during the birthing process.

So please accept any law or medical related parts in this chapter with a grain of salt and the spirit of story-telling.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy this penultimate chapter.

---

“What are you doing here?”

Laura walked over to where the three of you were standing. You took a good, long look at her. She was immaculately pretty. Face perfectly done, not a hair out of place, her skin scrubbed and well taken care of, her body was definitely a ten, looking like someone who had all the time in the world to work out, and get all primped and polished. Everything sat just so, not a crease on her expensive looking dress, not a blemish on her perfect nails and not a scratch on her shiny designer bag. She looked… expensive.

She was not the disheveled beached whale that you were, that’s for sure.

Behind you, you can hear Tommy and Maria cursing. They stood there like bodyguards, waiting to see what Joel’s ex wanted.

“Can we talk?” she asked, looking at you and the rest of his family, who were all eyeing her with stern faces, “alone?”

You got up, wanting to give them privacy. Joel took your hand in his, not letting you go.

“No, anything you want to say can be said with her here.”

“Joel, please. This is important,” she begged.

“And I’m telling you that it’s important to me that she stays,” he said, his hand now wrapping tighter around yours.

Tommy pulled Anita into the apartment, Maria following behind. Frank and Bill came down with boxes in their hands, seeing this new scene with interest, slowing down before Tommy pulled them both inside too.

Laura’s face snapped shut.

“Is she moving in with you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Joel, I made a mistake. Please don’t go through with this.”

“What’s your mistake got to do with me?”

“Sam… was not the guy I thought he would be,” she said, tentatively, her eyes still looking you up and down. “He’s been cheating on me.” Her head was bowed, unable to meet his eyes.

“I ask you again, what’s that got to do with me?”

“Joel, he’s kicking me out. He’s marrying his mistress. Laney’s nanny. All this time I thought he loved me, he said we could be a family, I thought I was doing what was best for Laney, Joel. She deserves to be with her father. But he never asked me to marry him. Laughed in my face when I ask him about marriage. Turns out he was fucking the nanny the whole time. What a cliché.”

“One more time, I ask you again, what’s that got to do with me?”

“I’d like to come back, Joel. I miss you.”

Joel was silent. You couldn’t read him at all. What was going on through his head right now? He was quiet for what felt like hours. His hand never leaving yours, rigid, firm. You brushed your thumb over his knuckles and took your other hand to rub his arm. Almost immediately, his body language softened.

“You miss me,” he said, his head shaking, almost laughing. “I take it you want me to raise Laney too?”

You stilled. Where was he going with this?

“No Joel. Sam’s keeping her. She… she has never really taken to me. He’s suing me for full custody.”

“Let me guess,” Joel laughed softly. “You let the nanny raise her?”

“Well, that’s what we pay her for, and I’m busy…”

“Oh, so you finally got a job?”

“Well… no… but I have a very busy life, Joel. It’s a full-time job to make the effort to look like this,” she said, laughing slightly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ahh…” Joel nodded, “I see. So… let me get this straight. The man you left me for grew up, and is marrying the nanny, who I assume loves and takes good care of his daughter, unlike you, and now you want to come back to me? Me? The man you left because I couldn’t provide for you? Abused you? Controlled you? Never loved you?”

“Joel, I was young, stupid. I didn’t see you for who you really were. I realize now, you loved me…”

“No, Laura, I didn’t love you. I thought I did. But that was before I knew what love really is. You’re too late, Laura. My answer is no. Please leave.”

Joel turned around to go in, and you followed. Laura surged forward towards you.

“This is all your doing, isn’t it, you shameless bitch! You think I haven’t heard about you? You think I don’t know that’s not his baby?”

Joel let go of your hand and put himself between you and Laura, taking such aggressive steps forward she shrunk back.

“Don’t you talk to her like that. Don’t you talk to her at all.”

“Joel, come on baby, you cannot tell me you would rather be with her than with me? I mean, look at her…” she spat, gesturing at your pregnant body, your less than flattering clothes, your unmanicured nails and obviously make up and maintenance free hair and face (I mean… it’s the weekend, and you’re at home watching people move your stuff, why would you need to do your hair and wear make up? Duh!)

“Laura,” Joel was speaking through calculated breaths. “Listen carefully. Even if I am not with her, I wouldn’t touch you again with a ten-foot pole. I am never, EVER going to take you back. She and I are moving in together, and I have never been happier in my life, and I am never going to let anyone take that away from me, least of all you.”

“Oh come on, Joel. She’s using you.”

“Like you were? No. Unlike you, she’s working hard to provide for that baby. Unlike you, she rejected my attempts to help, wanting to work on her problems herself. And most importantly, Laura, I WANT to raise her baby, I will love and protect that baby like she was my own, because unlike with you, I am desperately in love with her mother.”

Laura got desperate. She was crying now, clutching at his arm, trying to get him to see reason.

“Joel, please, I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t want to go back to the farm, Joel. Please. We were so good together, remember? Please give me another chance.”

Joel pulled his hand away.

“I may not be rich, or even highly educated, Laura, but even I can see that you were toxic for me. Go back home to your parents, Laura, see if they will take you back. Maybe living on that farm will help you face reality. Learn from this. Leave me and my family alone. If I see you around my family again, I will get the law involved.”

With that, Joel pulled the main door shut, locking it, leaving Laura sobbing outside in the summer heat. He escorted you inside, pushing the slightly ajar door to your new apartment, only to be greeted by five nosy faces who were pressed close to it to listen to the drama.

Joel made you sit on the couch, going into the kitchen to get you more lemonade. The newly installed AC was doing wonders for you. Tommy, Maria and Anita were just staring at Joel.

“Well, so you CAN stand up for yourself…” Tommy started, “That was impressive, brother. Should’ve done that a long time ago”. Maria nodded, remembering how miserable Joel was all those years ago, when Laura walked all over him.

Joel sat next to you, handing you your lemonade, and you couldn’t help but be proud of him. It was very clear how long he had wanted to say all those things, and how difficult it was for him to say all that in front of you. But he did it. He stood up for himself, and for you and Babygirl Bean.

“Sorry you had to hear that, Mama. I know you didn’t raise me to talk to a lady like that,” he looked sheepish.

Anita waved her hand, “Oh honey, that was no lady. I forgive you baby,” she said, looking immensely proud of her son. She clapped her hands together, “Now, lunch break?”

---

By evening, all your boxes, suitcases and furniture were in your new apartment. Everyone left after dinner, leaving you and Joel alone on the couch, reveling in the AC. You were cuddled up to him, your legs over his lap, his arms tight around your body, his lips on yours, never wanting to stop kissing you.

“So,” you began, “You are in love with me, huh?”

“Is that so surprising? Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you moved in upstairs.”

“I love you too,” you said, pulling his head down for another kiss. “I also heard you want to raise Babygirl like she was your own…”

“Of course I do. I’m in love with her Mommy,” he murmured against your lips.

“You sure you won’t regret this?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life.”

“Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Why me?”

He paused, thought for a moment, and asked you right back.

“Why me?”

---

When your pregnancy was in its 8th month, you got antsy. You basically became a writing machine, wanting to get in as much work as you can before Babygirl Bean got there. Joel still went to work, but made sure his Mama was home with you, just in case. Laura showing up scared him, worried that she might come back to hurt you. But Tommy assured him that he had it on good authority that Laura had gone back to her parent’s farm, having nowhere else to go and no one else to take her in, Sam made sure of that. A small part of Joel felt bad for her, but he knew that if he gave in and helped her, she would never leave, and he would do anything to ensure his life with you was not disrupted.

You kept your nose to your writing and Frank’s research. You had planned on a two-month leave, but Joel managed to talk you into taking six. You agreed, providing you can still do your writing during that time. He agreed. You two shook on it and everything, sealed with so many kisses. Your life with Joel went swimmingly. He hand-built all Babygirl Bean’s furniture, even stripping and repainting them three times when you changed your mind on the colors. That didn’t include repainting the nursery, the pink from all the stuff you’d been given clashing with the colors you had wanted, and he repainted twice, before you decided you just wanted white walls after all.

He was a favourite at your birthing class. The other moms kept eyeing him, even if their husbands were right there. Some single moms kept trying to get his help with things, asking him to practice their breathing with them, getting him to help carry things for them, touching his arms, complimenting his good looks. The poor man was all flustered, keeping his eye line on his feet, his hands always on you. It got so bad he just took to sticking to your side like a leech. It’s not that you were not jealous, of course you were. But there was a certain primal side to you that was extremely proud. All these hot moms and he picked you, who at this point felt as if you were much wider than you were tall. Not that he would ever tell you that. He worshiped you; he was insatiable for you. He would take you every morning, noon and night if he could. And my God did you let him. Even when you got too big, you experimented on different positions, and both of you were very willing participants.

Joel had certainly been your rock throughout your pregnancy. Whenever you needed to go to the library, he made sure he could go with you, sitting next to you, or at least in your line of sight as you worked, making sure you were alright. When you couldn’t sleep at night because you couldn’t get comfortable and became irritated as a result of it, he made sure you got whatever you needed to get some rest. You want food? He’ll cook. Tea? He’ll make it for you. A massage? Just tell him which parts needed massaging. Space? He’ll sleep on the floor – not wanting to be away from you. You always ended up begging him to come back to bed anyways, so that was that. When Babygirl Bean was particularly restless and active, he was the only one who could calm her down. Talking to her, telling her not to give you such a hard time, reading to her, singing to her, his voice always did the trick. Did the trick for you, too. You always end up falling asleep when he lulled Babygirl to sleep.

He took you to the farmer’s market every week now, taking you to brunch, letting you eat all the fruits from his plate every single time. You were so happy you were terrified something was going to happen to take it all away from you. You told Joel this one night, and he shushed you, holding you close, telling you all will be fine, he will make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. He didn’t tell you how terrified he was that that might happen, too. He laid awake at night thinking about it, just staring at your sleeping face, caressing your belly, certain that he would do anything to protect the two of you. His love for you and this unborn child was overwhelming, what if something went wrong? What if there were complications during the labour? And when Laura reappeared, he was terrified that he would cave in to her, his soft-heartedness sometimes being a barrier to his own happiness, but thankfully, he didn’t. What if Max came back? Would you be the same? Would you go back to him? The actual father of your daughter? People change. People change their minds. What if Max changed? What if you changed your mind?

At the next doctor’s appointment, he got his answer. As the two of you were waiting for Tess, Max showed up, his face the definition of gloom. Joel stood up, worried that he might do something unthinkable to you. Instead, Max offered his hand out for Joel to shake. He took it.

“Can I talk to you both?”

Joel looked at you, letting you decide. You held his arms close, not wanting to let go. You nodded. Joel sat back down, and Max sat a chair away from him, body turned to the two of you.

“I lost everything, Jules.”

“What do you mean?”

“My company. My business. Esther, the baby.”

“Something happened to Esther and the baby?” as much as you hated the woman, the thought of something bad happening to her and the baby was too much to bear.

“Well, I lost the company, my money, so I lost Esther and the baby. She ran out on me. Told me that she wasn’t even sure the baby was mine. That she wasn’t made to live in destitution. She found a better option.”

He held his head so low, you actually felt bad for the man. He took another deep breath.

“Look, I followed you here, I swear I don’t want to cause drama. But I didn’t know how else to contact you. Frank and Maria refused to give me your number. I could’ve just contacted you through Bill, but I need to tell you this myself.”

He took a deep breath.

“I know you have moved on, and I know you are happy. I am happy for you. Both of you. You two seem good together. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, Jules, shit, the way I threw you out, after everything you had done for me. Maybe this is my karma.”

You and Joel just listened; your hands clasped together. You can feel Joel holding your hand tighter, afraid to hear what might come next.

“But I would like to beg your forgiveness. I am leaving the country. There are better job opportunities for me in Asia… and my life will be unpredictable for a while. So, I wanted to give you this. Bill already looked at it, he okayed it, had it notarized, kept a copy for himself,” he fished out an envelope from his pocket, handing it to Joel. “It’s a document that relinquishes all my parental rights to the baby to you, Jules. Believe me, I am not doing this to run away from my responsibility. You might think that I am, not that I can blame you, considering what I did when I found out… but I just… I don’t know if I will come back, or if I will ever be able to be a good parent to the baby. So…” he trailed off, looking genuinely upset at what he just did.

He stood up, holding his hand out to Joel again. When Joel took it, he pulled Joel into a hug, asking him for forgiveness, begging him to please take good care of you and the baby. Telling him he’s a good man, and he’ll be a great father. He turned to you, asking softly if he could have a hug goodbye. He hugged you tight, whispering he’s sorry again and again, telling you that you will be the greatest mother, because you had a great one yourself, and that he hoped all will go well for your doctorate, that he’s proud of you and all that you had done, that you were the strongest person he knew, and hoped that someday you can think of him fondly again.

And with that, Max wiped the tears off his face, turned around and walked away, out of your life.

---

It was so hot that Friday night. You kept waking up, unable to get comfortable. Your back was killing you, your belly uncomfortably tight. You were three days past your due date. You had been having contractions on and off for a couple of days, but they hadn’t been too bad. You had woken up a very tired Joel three times in the past two weeks, convinced you were in labour, only to be told it was Braxton-Hicks contractions. The poor man was exhausted, since you had changed your mind again about the colour of the nursery wall and the furniture, not to mention he was out all day fixing this and that in the units for rent, and there was a long list of orders at his workshop. You went into the living room, switched the tv on, muted it so you wouldn’t wake Joel, and made yourself a cup of tea to help you sleep.

As you were watching some royalty discuss some arranged marriages on Netflix, a sudden, sharp pain caught your lower back, making you jump slightly. It went away after a few seconds, though. So, you got comfy and continued watching tv. About thirty minutes later, it came back, stronger this time, radiating from your back all the way around to your belly button, it lasted a while, but disappeared again. The third time it happened, you were bent double, you had to remember how to breathe. All you learnt in the birthing class flew out the window. But you really didn’t want to wake him. And by your calculations, even if this was labour, this was way too early to even go to the hospital. So, you waited it out.

You had decided to let Joel sleep in. If you were indeed in labour, you wanted him to get as much rest as he could get. Anita came over bright and early, having told you she would do so starting the week before your due date, wanting to be there in case you and Joel needed a hand. When she unlocked the door, you were on your fours, leaning against the couch, breathing deep, fending off another contraction. You told her not to wake Joel. Your contractions, if that was what they were, were still too far apart. Let him sleep. Anita helped massage your back, and things remained uneventful and calm for a couple more hours, aside from a few more contractions.

That calm lasted until Joel woke up.

When he realized you were having contractions that were bad enough that you couldn’t take them standing, he completely panicked. He ran around the apartment, grabbing useless things, stuffing them into a bag, completely forgetting that the bag had been packed and ready to go weeks prior, sitting ready by the door. Anita just watched in amusement, even recording him on her phone, gleeful that her oldest son was finally experiencing fatherhood, the way he had always wanted. You managed to stand after a particularly bad contraction, during which Joel was the one who clearly needed the breathing exercises more than you, and told him, as gently as you could, that he needed to calm down.

And then your water broke.

That definitely did not help him calm down. He had to be instructed to help you clean up and change, before needing a reminder for himself that he needed to change too. The journey to the hospital was chaotic, Joel cursing at cats and dogs crossing the streets. Damn cats. My girlfriend’s in labour! He didn’t calm down much when you actually got to the hospital, calling for attendants and nurses for a wheelchair, getting the bag from the truck and completely forgetting about you in the passenger seat, coming back for you only when the nurse at the registration counter asked where you were. You and Anita were howling with laughter, even a contraction didn’t fully stop you from laughing. Luckily, seeing you both laughing so much did calm him down, and he lifted you up from the truck, placed you gently on the wheelchair, and went back to become the reliable boyfriend you had known and loved.

Your labour was long. Tommy, Maria, Frank and Bill came by, went home, and came back again the next day, and still Babygirl Bean was nowhere near ready to come out. Anita finally told everyone to go home, and she would call when she arrived. After 48 hours, Tess gave you the dreaded news. The baby was starting to be in danger, but you were simply not dilated enough, despite the medications you were given. So, they were going to prep you for a C-Section.

You held on to Joel, scared out of your mind. Tess told him he could be in the room with you, if he’d like, and he quickly agreed. He was not going to leave your side for a second. He was shitting himself with fear, but he was determined to be strong for you and Babygirl Bean. They took him away from you to change into scrubs, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. You needed his presence, his warmth to keep you calm. The nurses and Anita tried to soothe you as you were wheeled into the operating theatre, Anita holding your hand the whole way, telling you all will be well, that she will wait for you out here. You will see Joel soon, don’t worry.

When Joel returned to your side, you calmed down. His hand never left you, his eyes fixed on yours, his other hand stroking your head gently. His voice calming you down, telling you that you were the strongest person he knew, that you will get through this. That he loved you. He was right there. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Tess guided you and Joel to what was happening behind the barrier as they were happening. Her voice calm and steady, warning you of what you would be feeling, what she was doing, what had happened, and finally, she said the magic words.

“Babygirl is out.”

There was silence for a couple of seconds, and the room was rewarded with the screaming cries from a pair of very healthy lungs.

When she was brought to you, you felt as if you had known her all your life, and yet, this was your first meeting. You knew right there and then, you would do anything for her, die for her. She was everything your life had led to. It was then that you realized, as much as you loved Joel, you did not regret what you went through with Max, because it had led you to this perfect little girl in your arms. You felt this overwhelming feeling of love for this little girl that you had never felt before. A love that will keep on filling your heart, never spilling.

It seemed that she knew you too; her cries began to recede when she was placed on your chest, but when Joel spoke in his low baritone, saying hi to her for the first time, she stopped crying. Her tiny eyes opened, searching for that familiar voice that had always calmed her. Both of you couldn’t keep your eyes off her. She was perfect. Your sight got blurry from tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Joel couldn’t stop kissing the top of your head, whispering to you that she’s here, she’s perfect, she looks exactly like you, I’m so proud of you baby, you did it. His voice cracking from his own tears, his thumb stroking your baby’s face, telling her she’s perfect over and over.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” Tess asked. Joel looked at you, looking for permission, excitement on his face.

You nodded.

Once the cord was cut, you handed her to Joel. He held the tiny newborn in his arms, his size making her look tinier than she really was and kissed her over and over on her gooey forehead.

You swore your heart just about exploded at the sight.

So this was what happiness felt like.

You closed your eyes, contentment and happiness filling your soul.

And then the room was filled with the still sound of the flatline alarm from your heart monitor.

---

The calm, emotional mood in the room turned to chaos. You had flatlined. A nurse came and took Babygirl Bean away from Joel. He was at your side within seconds, panic in his eyes. You were feeling lightheaded, your worst fear had come true; you were not going to see your daughter grow up. You held on to Joel’s hand, he was asking over and over, what is happening? You kept telling him you loved him, please love her like she was his own, please love her enough for the both of you. Please don’t let anything happen to her. He kissed your hand over and over, no baby, don’t talk like that. You are going to be fine. You are not going anywhere. Please baby don’t leave me.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!” Tess’s voice boomed.

The room fell silent, save for the shrill monotone from the monitor, telling everyone your heart had stopped beating.

Eh? But you were still leaving your last will and testament to a crying Joel.

“I am not seeing any problems in here and she still has a steady BP. Why is the monitor flatlining?”

A nurse came to your side, searching for something, bent down and picked up a lose wire from the floor.

You had knocked your heart monitor line off.

Oh.

---

God, your daughter was so cute.

She had to be the cutest baby in the whole wide world, right?

Anita bogarted the baby, tears in her eyes, you are Nana’s favourite girl, she said. I love you, I love you, I love you so, so much.

Maria was practically swooning, trying to steal her from Anita’s firm grasp, it’s Auntie Maria’s turn now Babygirl… Nana needs to let go of her… Auntie Maria needs her dose of Babygirl!!!

Tommy was speechless throughout his visit. When Joel handed your baby to him, he sat stock still, so afraid he might break her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, whispering to her, you’re so cute. You’re too cute for your own good. You are going to be so spoiled Babygirl, no one would ever be good enough for you. Uncle Tommy’s got you Babygirl. You just tell me who hurt you and I will take care of it.

Frank was surprisingly calm, holding her like he had held babies in his arms all his life. You make sure your mommy and daddy read to you, okay? Good books. I’ll teach you to draw Babygirl, you have beautiful hands. You will be so artsy; I will make sure of it. You make sure you come see me when your Mommy comes to see me okay? Or else, I will come kidnap you at home!!! Uncle Bill would just have to deal with it, right Uncle Bill?

Bill’s reaction was the most surprising of all. The usually quiet, grumpy, stoic man burst into tears as soon as Frank gently placed your baby in his arms. He was so overwhelmed he couldn’t even speak. Just stared at her for so long through his sobs until Joel decided he missed having his Babygirl Bean in his arms again and took her from him.

He got in bed with you and placed her gently in your arms.

The room fell silent. Tommy and Maria took pictures of what they all saw – a family.

---

That night, after the everyone had left and your baby had been taken to the nursery, the two of you laid in your bed, much to the chagrin of Nurse Grumpy Pants. But she told you that you needed rest, and rest for you required your personal human heater, Joel Miller, wrapped around you.

“Honey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Would you be okay if I put you on the birth certificate?”

“As the father?”

“As HER father.”

He kissed you.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

“Yes? It’s a hell yeah!”

“So, you’ll help me register the birth certificate tomorrow?”

“Of course. Is it still your mother’s name? With your last name, right?”

“I’m thinking I’d like the last name hyphenated now, if you don’t mind.”

He kissed you again. Long and sweet, his thumb brushing your cheek for a while, before he took his hand away, and placed it in your hand, along with something hard, covered in soft velvet.

There was a ring box in your hand.

He kept his face next to yours, his calming voice not even above a whisper in the quiet room.

“Will you marry me? Do me the honour of making me your husband? I cannot see my life without you and Babygirl Bean anymore. I want to be your husband, be her dad. I want to marry you, I want to adopt her, make you both mine, officially. Because baby, I am yours and Babygirl Bean’s. My heart belongs to the both of you. Make me the happiest man on earth? Please? Marry me?”

You took his face in your hands, kissed him deep, your tears mingling with each other’s. The world was silent. There was just the two of you in this moment. It may not have been the most romantic proposal that he had originally planned, but the moment felt right. When you both broke the kiss, he searched your wet teary face with anticipation.

“Yes.”

---

Ellie Williams-Miller was brought home two days later, and it was clear from the start that she was daddy’s little girl. She would spend hours in Joel’s arms, needing to hear his voice to fall asleep, having gotten used to it in utero. He, in turn, was completely in love with his new daughter. You have a picture of him laid out on his tummy next to her on your bed, his face turned towards her, and hers, his, just watching her sleep, love in his eyes. He had taken to fatherhood like fish to water. It was as if this was the reason for his existence.

The two of you got married a little less than two months later, a small ceremony in his mama’s backyard, just family and close friends. Ellie was, of course, the ring bearer, with the help of a very willing Uncle Bill. You had gone to the courthouse the day after to register your marriage, and for Joel to sign papers to adopt Ellie, now officially his Babygirl, not that there was ever a doubt that she was.

You had planned a short honeymoon for the three of you. You had your final post-partum appointment with Tess the morning you were due to leave and came home to Anita and Maria waiting for you in the living room. They were taking Ellie with them for the duration. What? No! Joel would never agree to this. But Joel came out of the room, a bag in his hand, and handed it over to Maria. He had planned this. You were conflicted. You had left Ellie with Anita and Maria before, but never overnight. Joel pulled you aside, telling you it’s alright, it’s only a few days, and they will take good care of her. It’s our honeymoon, baby. Let’s enjoy ourselves, alone. Let me spoil my wife, hmm?

When you thought of what he said, and the conversation you just had with Tess, you reluctantly agreed. So, you said a teary goodbye to a clueless Ellie, who was so happy to see her Nana and Auntie Maria she didn’t even notice she was being taken away. You spent the next hour getting ready to leave, sobbing the whole time. You were crying so hard even Joel had second thoughts, almost going over to his Mama’s to get Ellie back. Joel picked up your suitcases to put in his truck, ready to start your journey, but you stopped him. You forgot to pack something. Go wait in the truck. You will be right out.

The truth was you were heartbroken to separate from Ellie. But he was right. It’s your honeymoon. It should be about just the two of you.

What you didn’t tell him was, you were terrified. You and Joel had never been alone together since you gave birth. You had been pregnant throughout your relationship, but now that you were no longer with child, you were worried about what he might think of your body, sans baby. You had the privilege and security of being pregnant for any… jiggly bits your body might have before. And the two of you hadn’t had sex since before Ellie was born. In fact, Joel had never seen you fully naked since you gave birth. You were so insecure with how your body looked you opted to change with the doors closed.

Also, your relationship being more on the unconventional side, you had never really flirted, or even seduced him. You hadn’t done that in a long time, not since you were much younger, much more confident and had the perfect figure with Max. You and Joel had sort of fell in love without much flirting, just going along with the rhythm, and you being pregnant had not helped with your self-confidence, often feeling too silly, awkward and huge to flirt with him. And the way your body betrayed you during pregnancy was not exactly romance and seduction adjacent – you had been gassy and swollen throughout, poor Joel having to endure all your farting and burping and constant peeing and constipation throughout your pregnancy, all of which happened in the early stages of your budding relationship. So, no. Romance was not exactly an area you were an expert in.

But now, you two were headed for your honeymoon, alone. And Tess had given you the all clear this morning. As nervous as you were, you wanted your husband. So badly. So, while Joel was putting his suitcase in the truck, you went to your closet, fished out a small paper bag you had hidden at the back of it, and quickly shoved it in your suitcase. You decided you will just have to endure it all, do your best at seducing your ridiculously good-looking and sexy husband, and hope for the best.

The journey only took a couple of hours. Joel had rented out a small cabin by a beautiful lake in a small-town resort just outside the city. Throughout the drive, he held you hand, making small talks with you. He asked you how the appointment with Tess went that morning. Fine, you said. Everything going as it should. You can tell he wanted to ask you more, but you changed the subject, wanting to surprise him.

The cabin was beautiful. You had a gorgeous view of the lake and surrounding mountains from the balcony, a fireplace, and a huge bathtub. After a quick phone call to check in on Ellie (you didn’t want a video call, in case you change your mind), Joel asked you to get ready for dinner. He had made reservations at the restaurant, eager to take his wife on a first proper romantic night out. You two had never been on one, you always busy with your schoolwork. So, your dates so far had consisted of going to the farmer’s market and perhaps a dinner or two at your favourite restaurant.

You got ready in the bathroom, as usual, wearing your surprise for him under the dark red dress that you had brought. Even the dress was making your nervous. You had only been wearing the most comfortable maternity wear every time you two had gone out, not figure-hugging dresses. So, when you opened the door to the bathroom, you hoped to God Joel would like what he saw.

You stood in the doorway, one arm leaning on the door, the other on your waist, legs slightly crossed to show off your dress.

The two of you stared each other up and down. He was dressed in a black dress pants, a dark red dress shirt tucked into it, the sleeves rolled up his arms. He looked… delectable. He in turn, was staring at you with his mouth slightly open, unable to say anything, swallowing visibly, before clearing his throat, asking if you’re ready to go. A small part of you deflated. Did he not like what he saw? But as you were stepping off the deck, he took your hand in his, kissed it, and said, “you look beautiful, baby,” a small smile on his face.

Seduction attempt one – not quite so successful, but not too bad.

You’ll take it.

Dinner was delicious, and so romantic. The restaurant was set up for romantic dinners. Dim lighting, candles everywhere, soft music playing. You two were sat opposite one another, your legs entwined underneath the table, his hand holding yours. You made small talks, but you wanted to warm him up for later, so you took your shoes off, and brush your foot up his legs. He flinched slightly, before removing his leg out of the way. But before you could feel rejected, he traced his finger on your arm, looking at you with his soft eyes, and told you he loved you. “Happy Honeymoon, Baby,” he whispered, before kissing your hand again.

Seduction attempt two – kinda worse than attempt one, but still not too bad.

You’ll take it.

He led you to the dance floor and led you in a slow dance, softly swaying you side to side, kissing your hairline, telling you that he felt like the luckiest man in the world. But when you pressed your body up to his, wanting to kiss him properly, he jumped away from you, and said he needed the restroom real quick. When he returned, he gave you a quick peck on the lips, another on your cheek and kissed you on the hand, saying you should probably head back.

Seduction attempt three – that felt like a fail, but you did get a kiss out of it. So, maybe, not too bad?

You were beginning to feel defeated, but you’ll take it.

You took the long path back to the cabin, walking hand in hand in the dimly lit path along the lake, just savouring the night. It was quiet, but it sure was not in your head. You were on your honeymoon, and your husband was acting all jittery whenever you attempted to get close to him. Did he not want you anymore? Oh God, it’s the dress isn’t it? You’re fat. He didn’t like seeing your fat ass in the tight dress. That’s it, isn’t it? How dare he? How dare he not want you? You can barely breathe in this stupid outfit, and he didn’t want you? Hmph. You’ll show him. You’ll show him what he’s missing.

When you got back in the cabin, you waited until he had shut the door, before jumping him.

You pressed him up against the door, got on your tippy toes and kissed the living daylight out of him. You can feel his breathing change, his crotch hardening, but he was still… not really reciprocating. You can feel him holding back, his hand was back to their original limit - at your waist only. You could feel him getting hard, but his body was rigid, he wasn’t returning your kiss the way a man who had not had sex with his wife in two months should be.

Seduction attempt four – most definitely a fail.

You can’t take it anymore.

You stopped kissing him, took your shoes off and walked off into the bedroom defeatedly. You sat on the bed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He came in, stopped just inside the doorway, a worried look on his face. What’s wrong baby?

“You don’t find me sexy anymore, do you? I'm fat, right? You don't like my body anymore?"

He was kneeling in front of you in seconds. His hands on your face.

“What are you talking about? All I want is you. Baby, you're beautiful. All of you.”

“Then why do you not want to touch me?”

“Baby, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. You just gave birth two months ago, you had major surgery, I thought we had to wait?”

“Yeah, but Tess gave me the all-clear this morning.”

His eyes turned dark. “She did?”

“Yeah, and I wanted to surp…umph…”

His lips were on you, climbing up the bed with you, his hips between your legs, his arms on your ass, lifting you higher up the bed. He hovered over you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, she said I’m healed, I even asked her to put me on birth control.”

“So, I don’t need a condom?” he sounded hopeful.

“Nope.”

He lowered himself on you, his erection evident between your legs. You couldn’t help it, you canted your hips up to his, chasing the delicious friction it was giving you. He groaned, moving his hips with yours, wanting to make you feel good.

“Driving me crazy,” he said as he peppered kisses all over your face, jaw, neckline. “Want you so badly, you look delicious baby. So fucking hot and sexy in your little dress. Teasing me, rubbing yourself all over me. Got so hard I had to get myself off in the restroom.”

You pushed him off you.

“What? Was that what you were doing after the dance?”

He smiled sheepishly, “I was so desperate for you it only took a few strokes. Couldn’t walk around paying the bill with a raging hard on could I?”

Damn Miller, way to make your wife feel sexy. You got off the bed. He followed, but you pushed him back to sit at the edge.

“Well, I have a surprise for you, Mr Miller.”

You leaned down on him, and kissed him breathless, before turning around and asking him to unzip you. You smiled when you noticed his hand was shaking, his heavy breaths filling the quiet room with anticipation. You took a few steps forward, and shimmied out of your tight dress, bending down as you did so, your thong clad ass fully in view for him to see.

It’s gone quiet. You can’t hear him breathe anymore.

You turned around slowly, and there was your husband, holding his breath, his jaw slack, his eyes roving all over your body, now only covered in a pair of see-through lingerie made of delicate white lace, unable to decide where to look first or next, his hands white knuckled on the sheets next to him, his pants dangerously tented.

“Baby? Do you like it?”

He gasped, finally broken out of his daze, but still unable to speak or move.

When you got in between his legs, his hands seemed to work again, grabbing your ass, running them all over your body, pulling you down on him, kissing you breathless. He shuffled up the bed, and you followed, getting on top of him, lips still together. You grinded your hips over his clothed erection, earning a long, deep moan from him, but you were not planning on stopping. Shit he felt good, even clothed. His breath was ragged, so were yours. His hands stayed on your hips, helping you grind yourself on him, as you climbed higher and higher, coming with a wail of his name. He didn’t even give you the time to come down, flipping you over, before very quicky standing up, taking his clothes off, almost toppling over trying to get his socks off.

He climbed up to you, got between your legs, taking in your smell over the skimpy white lace covering your mound, rubbing his nose all over your sensitive nub. So pretty, he whispered. You shivered in anticipation. He traced the thong with his fingers, before ripping it right off you. He looked at you from between your legs, something he hadn’t been able to do the last few months you had sex and ravaged you. His eyes were closed, savouring the experience, thoroughly destroying you layer by layer, making you see stars, galaxies, and beyond. Your legs were shaking by the time he was done, your entire body so lax and pliant, you were convinced you were made from jelly. Your aftershocks lasted forever, and he slowly made his way to your lace covered peaks, while his hands tried to soothe you from your high.

He teased your nipples through the lace until they were stiff, telling you these were pretty, maybe he’ll spare them, so you’ll wear them again. But he sucked on one of your nipples, and tasted your sweet, sweet milk… and that was it… bye-bye expensive lace bras. He tore them off you, complaining that they were in the way. He traced his tongue on your leaking nipples. One more look at you, may I? You nodded.

And he wrapped his lips around one peak, gently sucking on it. When a burst of milk erupted into his mouth, he moaned, his face full of pleasure, his breath heavy, and he brought his hand to the other breast, pinching its peak between his fingers. You were writhing. The way he was drinking from you had you weak, joy and need clearly evident all over his face. He switched when the flow slowed, and groaned so loudly when the other source gave him more of that sweet nectar, his hips rutting onto yours, so you reached down, and guided him into your entrance.

You both fell silent when he pushed in, mouths hanging open, eyes closed. Joel stayed still in you when he had pushed all the way through. Fuck baby, I missed this. I missed being inside you. You feel so good baby, fuck… I love you. I love you so much. You were babbling, feeling so full, so good, you couldn’t form a coherent string of sentences. You wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting him to leave, both of you just breathing together, kissing each other whispering sweet nothings to each other.

When he finally moved, it was with so much tenderness. You felt his absolute love and devotion whenever he made love to you. Whispers of love, of ecstasy, the need for each other filled your ears as you two moved together, faster and faster, until there was nothing left but bliss.

Needless to say, the two of you didn’t partake in any of the romantic activities Joel had planned for the trip, thinking that sex was not part of the option. You spent your days making love, ordering room service (but it’s expensive Joel!), taking advantage of that huge bathtub and being naked the entire time.

It was almost as if you were on your honeymoon, and your husband loved your post-partum body after all, and you were worried for nothing.

---

Maria was busy running after the kids, the twins had escaped from their father and was busy chasing after a duck. Your youngest joined them, gleefully waddling after her cousins to join in on the duck chasing fun. Ellie was busy drawing flowers and bugs with her Uncles Bill and Frank, and their newly adopted girl. You were giving Anita a much-needed foot massage, having been on her feet all day keeping up with her overly active grandchildren. Joel and Tommy were manning the grill, having ridiculous brotherly arguments about how best to flip a burger.

When the burgers were ready, the kids wrangled up, the adults taken a breath, the small family sat at their picnic tables, sharing food, drinks, stories and laughter as family would. All of you had made these getaways a yearly event, taking time out of your busy work life to just enjoy each other’s company.

The family had grown since it started. Maria and Tommy got married, and their twin boys Jack and Daniel, now three years old, arrived a year later. Sarah Williams-Miller joined your small family not a few months after that. Ellie, now six, was besotted with her baby sister. Frank and Bill, now a permanent part of your family, adopted their little girl, five-year-old Dina a few months ago, she and Ellie already causing havoc wherever they go. Anita lived with you and Joel now, the two of you bought a new house with a mother-in-law suite not far from campus where you are now proudly teaching.

Ellie and Sarah were both Daddy’s little girls. Joel had always said he was born to be a girl dad, and he had fulfilled that role proudly. Ellie was always more interested in paints and music than make up, but since Sarah arrived, he was often going to work with his nails painted and his hair clad in flowery clips just in case his girls video called. He had cleaned his nails and taken the clips off for work one time, when Anita video called him for the girls. When Sarah realized her Daddy had taken her special paintings and clips off, she cried with such heartbreak that Ellie didn’t speak to him for hours when he got home for making Sarah cry. It broke his heart. So, the man endured the teasing he received at work and resorted to walking around the house with his hair tied in various neon coloured rubber bands and his face painted with fake make-up, just to appease his youngest girl, and her more tomboy-ish big sister by extension.

When the kids had gone to bed, the adults went about savouring the quiet and peace, Frank and Bill chose to read, Anita was knitting, Tommy and Maria went for a walk by the lake.

You stood at the edge of the water, looking at the moonlit view, thinking about how much your life had changed in seven short years. When you came home that fateful day, finding your two suitcases packed, you had thought that your life had ended. Little did you know that your life had just begun. That heartbreaking day had led you to this day. How happy you were now, how content. A pair of warm hands made their way around your waist, followed by the solid warmth that was your husband’s body pressed against your back, and a kiss behind your ear, which then trailed down to your neck, the hands beginning to travel to naughtier bits.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr Miller?”

“Just showing my wife how much I love her, Dr Miller.”

You turned around and hugged him tight.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For loving me.”

“Not a hardship baby. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I love you, so much.”

As he kissed you silly, you closed your eyes, quietly grateful that you decided to be brave, and give love one more try.

The End

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

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dixonsdarkelf · 4 months ago

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2024 Wrapped

GIF by me, dividers by @anitalenia

I wouldn’t call this a yearly wrap-up as I’ve only been posting since October 1st, but here we are.

Wow, 2024’s been a hell of a year professionally, personally, and on here. I started writing again for the first time since the pre-pandemic days, had my 5-year anniversary with my partner, found myself in this lovely little corner of the fandom & made some new friends along the way. After only writing OC content my whole life, I finally took the leap and started doing x Reader content, and that’s been fun so far. It’s been a wild few months.

No one asked for this part, but I figured I'd give a little bit of an origin story as to how the hell I even ended up here.

I hatched an idea one day, that idea being the existence of my sweet little angel Vec (Lydia Vector). She just popped into my brain one day after having not thought about TWD in ages. Then my brain said “she’s gonna be Daryl’s love interest.” And after not having done any writing in years (I started creative writing when I was 14), I said “well…guess I’m doing this now.” So I began posting on AO3 and Wattpad and eventually made my way over here. And it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

If you found me on here from reading my content on another platform, thank you, and I'm happy to have you here.

When I first started posting on here, I felt like a teeny, tiny drop in a sea full of big names (probably because I was) (I still feel that), and that was intimidating enough to almost make me stop altogether. But I've met some of the best people through this app, and I feel like I finally found a little corner of the internet where I belong.

Shout-outs to the homies:

@francisofthespook you were one of my first followers, and I still remember when I came on one day and saw that you had binged a bunch of my content & how happy that made me. Thank you for suggesting creative content for me to do (like create playlists & the whole NSFW alphabet thing we did). I adore you 💙

@holdmytesseract Maddie, you are such a sunny, bright presence on this app, and I’m beyond honored that I get to call you one of my mutuals. You leave some of the sweetest comments I've ever received, and I’m excited to (hopefully) become friends 🧡

@gothic-pumpkin I can’t express how happy I am that I reached out to you. When I saw we had the same taste in music and men (Norm characters lmao), I knew we would be friends. Our conversations always make my day 🤎

@weirdoneattheparty you are such a light & so kind, friendly, and welcoming to everyone in this space. You're also such icon for those audios you manage to find and make all crispy and clear, I love you for that (and more ofc) 💛

@negansbestie you are truly one of the sweetest and most friendly people I’ve met on this app. You always have the nicest things to say, and seeing you in my activity tab always makes me smile 🤍

And last, but certainly not least, @dixons-sunshine. God, where do I even begin with Krys? She is my favorite writer on this app & was the first person I really admired on here. I remember thinking "damn, if she even looked at something of mine, just once I would feel like the coolest person ever." And then we became mutuals and I thought "it'd be so cool to be friends with her, she seems awesome." Then I made a simple comment, talking about how my OC (Vec) and hers (Georgie) would definitely be besties in an alternate universe, thinking nothing would come of it. And that one comment spiraled into an entire AU and a beautiful friendship. Krys is one of the most down-to-earth, kind, supportive, funny people I've had the pleasure of knowing. It's crazy to me that I can just text you whenever, whether it AU planning or just random life shit. And thank you for showing me how to make cool shit to make my blog look sick and make cool things for our AU. I love you sm 💜

I'm also honored to be getting to know @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @lazyneonrabbitt, @deansapplepie, @dixondystopia, @enlightndone & @shadowcitrine. You're all lovely, and thank you for being such welcoming presences in this little corner of the internet 💚

And of course, our Royal Council, aka our ‘Quarters of the Undead’ readers/taglist people: @kat-herine00 @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @negansbestie @ffsjustletmesleep @holdmytesseract This AU is still in its infancy, and we have so much planned. Thank you for joining us on this journey so early on ❤️

Works I'm most proud of:

Finding Myself, Finding You (the fic that started it all)

Lydia Rae Vector, OC profile (naturally, I'm most proud of my little unhinged baby angel)

Flattery: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader (first attempt at x Reader content)

Something Good (first installment in the QOTU AU)

Thank you all for some of the best months of this year. I love you all, and I'm excited to see what happens in 2025 🖤

#the dark elf yaps #thank you all so much #I love each and every one of you #come here so I can kiss your forehead #daryl dixon #scud frohmeyer

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hockeyforbabes · 5 months ago

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Birds of a Feather Ch. 2

MASTER LIST

A friends to lovers romance with pining, tension, humor, and eventual smut <3 Luke Hughes x Female OC

This chapter is longer than the other and has some slight sexual implications but no smut... yet. Hope y'all like it!

A/N: Thank you for the love I received on the first chapter, this is my first time writing so feel free to message me with requests or advice. Just be nice please <3

5 years ago- Luke's POV

"Addie I've got you," I say holding her hands.

"This was a terrible idea, I'm going to fall and break something," She says clinging on to me for dear life.

Addie has lived in Michigan for 5 years and this is the first time I have managed to convince her to go ice skating. She has come to plenty of my hockey games but I have never been able to get her on the ice. She always argued that her feet were meant to stay on "solid non-slippery ground". Watching her flail around like Bambi I am beginning to think maybe she was right.

"I'm not gonna let you fall you just need to trust me," I say slowly skating backward and pulling her along. "You just need to relax, it's easier if you don't overthink."

"Easy for you to say, you were practically born with skates on your feet," she argues but she begins to ease into me as she gains her footing.

"Just like that, one foot at a time," I gently encourage.

As she slowly glides one foot at a time with my help I take a moment to observe her. Her brown hair is falling in curls down her back with a beanie on her head. Her cheeks and nose are a light red from the cold of the rink. She looks so pretty.

She is wearing one of my hockey sweatshirts because she complained that it was colder than she thought it would be when she arrived at my house. Honestly, I don't mind though, the sight of her in my hoodie sends an odd feeling to my stomach that I try to ignore.

"Ok I think I am getting the hang of it," she says standing a bit straighter, "You can let go but stay close."

Releasing her hands I move to skate next to her. The past year or so I began to hit my growth spurt and now I stand a few inches taller than her but I admit I like it.

"See it's not too hard when you just let yourself glide, gotta be confident," I say.

"No I still think it's hard," she protests, "I have no idea how you do this all day every day."

"Hey, I could never dance like you," I say and skate ahead to show off some stupid dance moves.

Tossing her head back laughing at my antics she begins to lose her balance and I rush over to catch her. Wrapping my arms around her waist I catch her right before she hits the ice.

Pulling her up and into my chest I let out a sigh of relief, "Maybe I shouldn't let go quite yet."

Nodding with a flustered look on her face she agrees. I know I should release her from my arms but I get caught up in the feeling of her in my arms. Realizing it has been a moment too long I let go and take hold of her hands as we begin to slowly skate again.

Fuck, I think I'm in love with Addie.

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Present- Luke's POV

I've been in love with Addie since that day at the rink. It started as a crush when we both hit our teens and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she had become. I tried to convince myself it was nothing serious and ignored the jealousy I would feel when she talked about other guys.

As time went on and we grew I knew I was head over heels for her. Not just because she is beautiful but because she is kind and funny, and I can't imagine a life without her. She gets me in a way nobody else does, she understands I enjoy quiet, she knows how to cheer me up after a bad game, and she is just as happy sitting on the couch with me as she is going out.

When we were both 18 I almost told her how I felt, but we were both heading to different colleges across the country and I knew that would make things harder. Despite the physical distance between us the past few years our friendship has never been stronger.

Part of me was relieved by the distance because I was hoping it would lessen the feelings I have for her. I quickly realized when I got to school nothing would help, I was too far gone. I found myself comparing every girl to Addie and nobody could measure up.

Knowing now we will be living close to each other fills me with an alarming sense of hope. I know it is a lot to risk but I can't sit around and torture myself forever. If there is a chance she could be mine I need to try.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present- Addie's POV

Feeling the rays of sun peak through the blinds I roll over with a groan not quite ready to be awake yet but unable to fall back asleep.

Today is the first full day at the lake house and I was already excited to go out on the boat. More of the boy's friends would be arriving later this week but this week is reserved for family and girlfriends so it is quieter. Having been Luke's best friend for so long I fell under the family category but part of me worries if I still will when he gets a girlfriend one day.

Getting out of bed I throw on an old sweatshirt and head to Luke's room. When we were kids we used to share until Ellen decided we needed to sleep in our own beds for "safety" when we got older. Nothing like that ever happened like that between Luke and me but I understand why she did it.

Now that we are older his parents don't always come down and they don't care what happens with sleeping arrangements so we go to and from each other's rooms.

This time I make sure to knock on Luke's door really loud before opening it with a hand over my eyes, "Are you decent?"

Hearing Luke groan a yes I uncover my eyes to see him still in bed. He is shirtless but sure enough pants are on.

"Why are you up so early?" He asks sleepily still cuddled into the covers.

"I couldn't sleep, I'm too excited and you know I sleep better with you," I say crawling into bed next to him.

"Ok well lay down I'm not ready to wake up," he says and motions for me to lie down

Getting comfortable on my side of the bed I wrap myself in the covers being wrapped up in Luke's scent. Feeling immediately relaxed I drift off.

-------------

I'm not sure how long I have been sleeping but some time later I begin to stir. I'm tightly tangled in the covers and my pillow has flattened to be much harder.

I try to turn over and realize I'm stuck, slowly opening my eyes I realize I'm not stuck. I'm wrapped up in Luke's arms and legs, and the rock-hard pillows are his chest. Sure Luke and I have cuddled before but not quite like this. Not with him shirtless. Not with our position so intimate.

Not sure what to do I slowly start trying to untangle myself before I am startled by the sound of his voice, "Stop moving Addie, not ready to get up yet," he groans.

When I don't stop trying to get out he rolls us over putting my back on the mattress with him lying on me. His face is in the crock of my neck and his legs are intertwined with mine, his hips right below mine. This causes me to stop moving completely.

"Luke, what the hell are you doing?" I ask

"I'm holding you, just let me hold you," he whispers into my ear still half asleep, "Just a few more minutes, and then we can get up."

I stop my efforts to get up and lie there with Luke. I admit this feels nice having him so close and the view of his muscular back is enough to make any girl happy. I decide to ease into him and wrap my arms around him drawing shapes with my nails down his back.

"Mmm that feels good," Luke groans slightly rolling his hips into mine unintentionally.

My movements still momentarily. The sound of his sleepy voice and groan send a shiver straight down my spine to between my legs and I have to fight the urge to snap them shut. What the fuck is happening? And why am I not stopping it?

About 5 minutes later Luke's alarm begins to off and he groans as he rolls off me standing up to turn it off.

"Guess it's time to get up," he yawns stretching acting like nothing weird was happening

I catch myself staring at his abs flexing while he stretches and I stand up, "Yeah I should go get ready for breakfast," I say quickly exiting the room not waiting for a response.

When I get back to my room I slam the door shut and take a staggered breath. What is happening?

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Luke's POV

I know what I was doing this morning. I used the ruse of being groggy but I knew what I was doing. Having her sleep in my bed wrapped up in my old hockey sweatshirt I couldn't resist pulling her into my chest and when she didn't protest I just went with it.

When she woke up and tried to escape I wasn't ready to let go of her so I took the bold move of changing our position. She was the one though who decided to scratch my back and she knows that is a weak spot of mine.

I barely stopped myself from getting an embarrassing boner and I couldn't stop myself from instinctively rolling my hips into hers. At that point, I was sure I fucked up but then I felt the small shudder she made and the way her legs tensed around mine.

She liked it. That was all I needed to hope that maybe I could make a move. Maybe the friendzone isn't quite as impossible to get out of as I thought.

------------

Walking into the kitchen with a bit of pep in my step at this morning's realization I sit down at the table with everyone else, taking the seat next to Addie's.

"Good morning everyone," I smile.

"Woah Lukie what's got you all chipper?" Jack ask.

"Oh nothing, just slept really good," I say sending Addie a sly smile when the boys aren't looking making her cheeks turn pink as she looks at her cereal.

"So boys when are your ladies arriving?" I ask.

Jack chuckles and shakes his head obviously confused by my behavior still, "They should be here around 2:00".

"Oh good, I need some girls to talk to," Addie says.

"Tired of me already?" I pretend to be hurt.

"Never Lukie," She says patting my head.

Finishing up our breakfast we all begin to clean up and make plans to get out on the Lake.

"Luke you can use the bathroom first I already showered," Addie tells me.

"Okay I'll make sure to lock the door this time so you don't try to catch a peak," I tease.

"Woah what did you just say?" Quinn says.

"He is lying, it was an accident!" Addie yells trying to defend herself turning red, "And it was Jack's fault he told me to just go in!"

Jack laughs, "Yeah sorry about that, thought he'd have it put away by then."

Turning to Addie I say, "Ok I'm done teasing you about it, just had to get it out one last time," as I walk downstairs.

-----------

After getting ready I head to Addie's room knocking on the door, "Hey you almost ready?"

"Yeah come in I need help tying my swimsuit," She shouts through the door.

Opening the door I take a small gulp. I've seen Addie in a swimsuit countless times but I still can't help but feel like the same 15-year-old boy who drooled over her the first time he saw her in a bikini each time. She is standing in front of a mirror in a simple red bikini but she looks beautiful and hot, but mostly beautiful.

Stepping behind her with shaky hands I tie the back of her top, taking notice of how she shivers when my hands brush her back.

"Thank you," she says with a smile, "You ready to go?"

Giving her a nod we make our way out to the boat. Today is gonna be fun.

#luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes fic #nj devils #lh43

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callixpene · 3 months ago

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L&DS Future Lifetime Series - PART 3: THE CHASE BEGINS

Note: We are back to the individual POVs of the Love Interests for Part 3😁

MASTERLIST - For PART 1(Completed), PART 2(Completed) & PART 3(Ongoing) of this series

L&DS Future Lifetime Series - PART 3: SYLUS X OC - THE CHASE BEGINS

Sylus X OC.

Set in Future Timeline. All Love Interests have no memories of their past lives. All of the MCs(5 Sisters) all have memories of their past lives. Very persistent LIs. Avoidant MCs. Love at first sight. Soulmates.

Genre: Fluff, Some Angst, Slightly Suggestive

"I would like to speak with Miss Nyx Kingsley, bring her here for me."

"Right away Sir." the waiting staff replied, before he left.

VIP access was so incredibly convenient, Sylus thought. He had precedence and could make any sort of demand.

And Sylus relished in the fact that he had superiority.

Nexus' event staff did not even think twice about accepting his sponsorship after finding out he was bringing in Rafayel, from Mo Art Studio, as the art curator, and Zayne, from Akso Hospital, as the head of the medical team. The event planners were tasked to look for the best of best for all aspects of this party, and Sylus had presented his trump cards to them at the perfect time.

It was fairly obvious that Nexus spared no expense with this business party. There was the main party hall downstairs where guests mingled and talked about business and investments. Then, there was a beach & pool resort outside, should some of the guests wished to go for a swim. Finally, for some guests who wanted to unwind, there was a makeshift nightclub at the top floor, and this was where Sylus was.

He was settled on a large nook at the VIP lounge. Far away from the crowd.

The music wasn't too loud, as to not disturb those who were downstairs, but the atmosphere was still lively. Guests danced and drank with one another just like in any other posh nightclub at Linkon's high street.

"Sir, Miss Nyx is here. As you've requested."

Sylus turned his head, and sure enough, she was there.

Nyx was dressed in a tight-fitting, velvet red dress. It hugged every inch, every curve of her enticing figure, perfectly. The mere sight of her could make any man fall to their knees.

And Sylus was not immune to her spell.

Even as she stood there, a grimace taking over her expression as she realized which VIP guest had requested her presence.

Sylus chuckled and her face soured even more.

His Kitten was getting feistier by the minute.

"Well done." Sylus said, as he discreetly handed a handsome tip to the waiting staff. "Now, leave us alone."

As the staff eagerly left, Sylus patted the seat beside him.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Kitten?" Sylus smirked. "Or would you rather I carry you myself and put you on my lap instead?"

He wanted to touch her, to feel her smooth, delicate skin with his fingertips.

But he willed himself to behave. Sylus would not do anything without her consent.

"Mr. Sylus." Nyx rubbed her forehead with her hand in frustration. "I'm almost certain that you did not call me here to talk about business. So let's not waste each other's time. I need to tend to the other guests..."

"You're forgetting that I have a VIP ticket to this event, Sweetie." Sylus replied, smugly. "And it states on the invitation that VIPs can request to speak with anyone from the Kingsley family."

"Yes, but only for business-"

"Oh, I have business matters to discuss as well with you. Don't forget about our deal, Sweetie. Remember, you are the only one from Nexus I'm permitting to speak with me for our dealings. This is for the sake of our partnership. Now, what are you going to do about that?"

With a huff, Nyx stomped towards the seat next to him and begrudgingly sat down.

"That's what I thought." Sylus replied. He gestured towards another waiting staff. "A bottle of champagne for me and my lady."

Nyx swiftly faced him. "I am not your lady." She said through gritted teeth.

As she said that, Sylus felt an ache in his chest.

He was actually hurt by her blatant refusal.

Damn, since when did he get this soft?

In one swift motion, Sylus held the tip of her chin and turned it to face him.

"Now Kitten..." He said, tone stern yet sincere. "I really don't like it when someone plays with my emotions."

Nyx's eyes widened.

Then, she smirked.

Sylus was taken aback by this. "Sweetie, what-"

His words were cut off as Nyx kissed him.

And it was not some gentle, innocent peck.

When she sought entrance, Sylus opened his mouth and responded to her with much fervor.

His mind went blank.

She was actively touching him as well.

Sylus could only grunt when she kissed and sucked the sensitive spot behind his ear, his Adam's apple and the bottom of his neck.

It was as if Nyx knew exactly where to touch: where his weak spots are, and which parts of his body to caress to make him shudder as they continued to kiss passionately.

Sylus had to hold himself back from moaning, despite how pleasurable she was making him feel.

He was on cloud nine.

He couldn't help but to put his hands on her and caress her body back as well.

They made out for what seemed like several minutes. They only stopped when both of them felt like they were on the verge of fainting and desperately needed to take a breath.

"Kitten...." Sylus' expression was euphoric.

Despite his handsome looks, he had absolutely no experience with sexual matters. He never found himself interested in anyone before.

But at this very moment, he was damn desperate.

It seems his woman was a master at seduction.

And that made him love and want her even more.

"Come here..." He leaned forward to embrace her, to feel her lips once more, to express the depth of his love and devotion through touch.

But Nyx stood up before he could hold her.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Sylus." She smirked. "It also states in the invitation that each VIP guest can only spend a maximum of 20 minutes with the Kingsley family member of their choice." She said, then she showed her smartphone to him. "It's been twenty minutes, I'm leaving now."

"You little minx....." Sylus replied as he continued to breathe heavily. His mind was still foggy, it was still slowly phasing out of its blissful state.

His knees were so damn weak right now. It would take him a couple of minutes at least to recover.

Nyx huffed. "Goodbye Mr. Sylus. Oh, and don't bother seeking for me for the rest of the night. This island is huge. I'm going to make sure you won't find me this time."

At that, she walked away and left the room.

She really did leave him all hot and bothered like this.

Sylus' ego was bruised. She successfully played with his emotions after all. He was entirely bewitched by her.

Inwardly though, he was thrilled.

He loved a good chase. And the way that his Kitten was playing this game was making it so much more entertaining for him.

His fingers traced his lips, as he recalled the way she had kissed him earlier.

His body was still hot. He groaned when he felt the hardness on his crotch.

He was going to have to relieve this by himself, for now.

Oh Kitten, when I catch you, I'm going to get my sweet revenge.

Rafayel's will be up next🩷

Thank you so much to everyone who has kept reading this series up to this point🥹

Please tell me your thoughts in the comments what you think about this series so far💜🩵🩷🧡❤️

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nepthesperglord · 29 days ago

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Study Date

Oc MLM Smut Fic with Forcemasc (it's wholesome)

Keith is 17-18 ftm switch he/him

Ethan is 16-17 cis switch he/him

Contains; Dysphoria comfort, reassuring sex, oral sex on trans guy, no penetration, handjob

Word count: 2k

Read the part 1 here (Ao3)

Read this on Ao3 here

The exams were next week. After a long time of planning their "study session", they were finally at Keith's house, trying to study together.

Well, Keith was trying. Keith sure was trying. And Ethan was trying too. He was trying so hard to make Keith focus on him instead of the book in front of him.

Since they started studying physics, Ethan's hands were lost. They were on Keith's thighs, his back, his nape. Since Keith got a new haircut his neck was all exposed, and Ethan loved it. He couldn’t keep his hands off of Keith's neck, his ears, and his now very short hair. God, he loved it. Sometimes he'd lean in and "accidentally" kiss his neck instead of his cheek. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Keith would try not to look affected by it. But every time he'd get caught off guard, his breath would hitch so subtly. And Ethan always picked up on that.

Now his thumb rubbed over the end of Keith's nape.

"Ethan."

"Yeah?" he leaned in closer to Keith's face.

"Can't you at least try to focus?"

"I am focused."

Keith threw him a look. It wasn't that he didn't like Ethan's hands on him. But they needed to study.

"What?" Ethan asked, his lips almost touching Keith's ear.

"If you didn't wanna study why did we plan a study session?"

"A study date." Ethan corrected.

"Right. And where is the study part?"

"Where is the date part?"

Keith sighed as he leaned on Ethan, finally looking at him instead of the paper.

"Aaaalright," Keith said, his voice somewhat breathy. He held Ethan's face with one hand, still holding his pencil, made Ethan lean into him and finally gave him a sweet kiss. It was slow, painfully slow. Keith was just gently sucking on Ethan's upper lip and it was driving Ethan insane. Keith's hand moved onto Ethan's chest, down to his stomach and stopped on the waistband of his sweatpants.

"OK, you know how we're gonna do it?"

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna keep going, and you're gonna keep solving."

"Solve- what?"

Keith's hand slipped inside the sweatpants, giving Ethan's semi-hard dick a stroke over his boxers.

"I'm gonna stroke you and you're gonna solve your physics problems while I do so. This way it's both studying and a date, right?"

"Wha- whaaat? I can't- I can't solve physics while your hands are- on me!"

"Oh but I've been doing it this whole time, haven't I?"

"Oh, baby c'mon.."

"No, you come on." Keith planted a kiss on his jaw as he took Ethan's dick out. "Come on, solve them for me."

"Seriously? We're seriously doing this? Instead of just making ah-" Keith put Ethan's dick back in his boxers and stroked it over them once again.

"The more you talk the less I'm touching you."

"OK- ok. I- I uh- I'm gonna solve them.."

"Good boy." Keith planted a kiss on Ethan's neck.

"Oh fuck you."

"Man, you wish." his voice was teasing just like his touches. His hand rubbed Ethan over his boxers. "OK read the first one."

Ethan let out a hitched breath and attempted to read the first question.

"A 5 kg object is- ah.. moving at 10 m/s. W-what is its kinetic energy? Th- ah- This one is actually easy. Heh.."

"Yeah? What's the answer?"

"Um.. uh.. 1/2 times m times v² so it's 250 J"

"Yeah, it is! Good boy Eth." his hand moved faster on Ethan's boxers. "Read the next one"

" A- a 10 Ω resistor and a15 Ω r-resistor are c- ah.. connected in series to a-AH- Fuuu..uggh.. Keith-"

"I don't think my name is in the equation."

"Can you at least.. take it off? Please?"

"We don't have lube.. I don't wanna hurt you."

"I am soaked with precum I promise you- baby pleaseee"

"Ok ok.." Keith lets Ethan's member out once again. "but keep reading."

"Thank you.. thank you.. yeah- uh.. to a 30 V battery. What- what is the current through the circuit and- mh.. and the power dissipated by the 15 Ω resistor? Ohh God that feels so good.."

Keith's hand was circling Ethan's tip.

"Dude you leaked over your hoodie.. It's all messy, see?"

"A- huh? Oh.." Ethan looked dazed.

"You should take it off, man." Keith pulled the hoodie over for Ethan to take off. Ethan obliged without thinking much.

"Ok keep solving." Keith's hand cupped Ethan's now naked chest.

Ethan looked at the paper with no idea what he even read. The question was too long; he was normally easily distracted, and this situation wasn't helping. He tried reading the question again, but halfway through, he forgot the beginning again.

"C'mon, boy."

"I can't- I can't." Keith's hand slowed down.

"H-hhaah no no Keith-"

"I told you. You're gonna finish the paper before I finish you."

"You did not tell me that! You certainly didn't-"

"Well, I did just now," Ethan whined, his whole body tense. He was gripping the edge of the table.

"I can't.." Keith's fingers teased Ethan's tip.

Ethan's body relaxed for a second, he turned to Keith. Something shifted in Ethan's eyes. Keith noticed but he didn't have enough time to prepare himself for whatever was coming.

In an instant Ethan leaned into Keith, his hand running to Keith's parted legs. Ethan loved his boyfriend's way of sitting, taking the space that was rightfully his. And so easy to slip a hand between.

"W- E-Eth?"

"Yeah?" Ethan was now turned to his side, his face next to Keith's ear, his fingers softly tracing Keith over his sweatpants.

"What.. what are you doing?" He sounded all breathy.

"Touching you?" Keith's hands on Ethan were dropped; he instead held onto Ethan's thigh and shoulder, trying to maintain his composure. Ethan started kissing Keith's neck, his hand working overtime between Keith's thighs. His other hand caressed Keith's side.

"Have I told you how much I love your new hair?" Keith bit back a moan and tried to answer.

"A- a couple thousand times.. yes."

"Aah I haven't enough times.." He kept making out with Keith's neck for a second, licking up to under his ear.

"I really love it. You should keep it short, shouldn't you, pretty boy?"

"I- Um.. It.. it doesn't suit my face tho.." Keith answered, pushing down his shivering from Ethan's hand and slipping into his sweatpants.

"Hmm? Doesn't suit your face? What do you mean by that?"

"You know.. I- ah.. I think.. I think my face is too.. too feminine for- for short hair." The reason why Keith struggled to talk wasn't only Ethan's hands this time.

"Feminine?" Ethan pushed Keith to talk more.

"You- you know what I mean... my jaw and cheeks and.. just.." Keith stayed silent other than whimpers and whines escaping his mouth. His brain was foggy.

"Nothing is feminine about you. Nothing is. This hair could never look hotter on anyone. Maybe I should help you acknowledge it better, hm?"

Keith looked confused once more. In a second Ethan kneeled down in front of the chair Keith was sitting on, looking up at him with an expression Keith couldn't make sense of.

"Aren't you so tired, handsome? No boy that hot should be worrying about exams.."

"Oh fuck you, I don't wanna be treated like a bimbo," Keith said half flustered.

"You're not a bimbo, you're a stud." Ethan pulled Keith's sweatpants down and kept his hips pinned to the chair.

"A- .. A STUD? ME?"

"Yeah," he kissed on Keith's inner thigh.

"..I'm the opposite of a stud- I'm-"

"You're a nerdy pretty boy who is a stud. You're attractive, you're masculine, and you get dick all you want, you're a stud."

"All the dick I want-? I have no game."

"You get my dick all you want."

"... .. A stud?"

"My stud." Ethan turned his gaze to Keith's boxers. "You're wet hehe.. You know what we're gonna do, my stud? I'm gonna suck you off until you talk about yourself the way you should be."

Keith opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by Ethan's tongue on his boxers, licking and sucking over his boxers.

"I'm gonna give you a good blowjob, ok dude?"

"Blowjob..?"

"Mmmhm.. gonna suck that cock the way you deserve. Until you understand that you deserve it.."

"I'm not even on T.. I don't have- aH-" Ethan sucked on Keith's clit over the fabric, his hand slowly pulling the boxers down. Keith lifted his hips instinctively, helping Ethan. When Ethan managed to get the boxers off he looked up at Keith.

"Of course, you have a cock, dude. Don't be silly. Don't make me silence you every time."

Ethan started lapping at Keith's bottom. The sight of him on his knees, half-naked, cock still out and hard in front of Keith was enough to send him over the edge by itself. Still, Keith had a bit of control left over his own body. His hand instinctively went to hold Ethan's head, something between petting him and pulling his hair.

"Mmmhm yeah- push me down on it c'mon.."

Ethan was sensual but rough. He looked up at Keith, sucking on his "cock". Keith fucking loved that. He didn't know how he hadn’t realized it before. He didn't normally mind anatomical terms but, god damn- His cock felt great.

Keith left out all the voices Ethan could ask for. He was getting close already. Ethan pulled away sensing that.

"You're a stud, aren't you? Tell me what you are, baby."

"M- mh? I- uh.. that's embarrassing, Eth c'mon.." His voice was all whiney.

"You're sitting there with a guy rock hard on his knees sucking you off. Your legs are all open, your hand making me take it, fucking my mouth on it. What else would you be than a stud? Hm?" Ethan dived back.

Keith was.. Keith was hard. Hard for that. For every word.

Yeah. Yeah, he was a stud.

He was fucking his boyfriend.

He was a man alright. Taking it like a man. Giving it like a man.

Keith grabbed Ethan's hair and started really fucking him into it. Guided him wherever he wanted. Fucking his face like that. Ethan would praise him if he could, but he had no space to talk, and that felt great.

Ethan was painfully hard. His smartass, soft-spoken, beautiful boyfriend finally started to believe he was a stud. That alone was too much. He was chasing release since the first moment Keith chewed on his own lip while trying to solve an equation. This meet-up was a dumb expectation. Did Keith really think they could study, sitting right next to each other, all alone? Keith humming with every question he answers, not even aware of it.

Ethan felt his dick twitch. He bucked against the chair leg. Keith started tearing up as he let Ethan know he was gonna cum. Ethan hummed in approval as loud as he could. Keith pulled his hair sharply, tho not rough enough to hurt, as he came right there.

Ethan's whole body shivered as he pressed his cheek against Keith's thigh. He didn't understand what was happening at first until his body gave up from the taste of his boyfriend on his tongue. Ethan left out a high surprised voice as he creamed on the floor, untouched.

Keith's mind was still foggy, drunk from orgasm. He stared down at Ethan. Who was looking sort of embarrassed, mostly fucked out.

"..oh? You..?"

"Y-Your hands were.. when you pulled my hair I couldn't.. I came.."

Keith had to admit the sight was hotter than anything he'd ever seen. But still..

"It's all over the floor, dude."

"Dude my fucking ass.. I just sucked you off."

"You came from giving head... to a stud."

Ethan smirked idiotically.

"Yep.. my nerdy stud.."

Keith leaned down to kiss the messy mouth of his boyfriend.

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raasturi · 7 months ago

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You know what, the Fairly OddParents fandom has been quite tame. Let's spice things up a little bit.

Doesn't anybody else get that silly feeling when you see fanart of Peri being like a father to Dev, like... where's the rest of you 😍? Don't be shy, show us where Dale is. Or are you too scared? (I wouldn't blame you, I was too at first)

Small warning: this post includes slight swearing and many brain-numbing headcanons. I'm not responsible for any mental anguish you may experience

I would like to quickly apologize to the 6 people shipping Peri with Dale. I thought I was the only one but it seems like I've finally found my people. Anyways, back to the topic.

Now that you're here, I may as well show some more art of these two goobers +some silly headcanons. These are my AUed* versions of the two in my odd semi-realistic style that I completely ditch whenever I don't have the patience to draw faces (I often suck at drawing them. No wonder all my OCs are furries)

Note: him being slightly chubby and him having mobility issues are both headcanons I have shamelessly borrowed from others in the fandom. Also am I the only one who thinks Peri WOULDN'T be 6 ft tall? In the series he's like 5 apples tall, so wouldn't it make sense for him to be a bit short?

Note: there's like a bunch of lore explaining the reason why Dale looks so fucked up in my version. I scarred him for life, oopsie! But at least he has Peri now who "forces" him to go to therapy 😍. I may need to make a seperate post where I only talk about him and his past if I have the motivation.

I know a lot of you don't even know the pain of trying to convert a stylized character into a realistic style and still making them look good and kinda recognizable. I envy you who have less realistic art styles.

*And yes, I did say AU. More specifically I'm talking about the "Missionaries of Eden AU" (by me). I'm not gonna go into detail now, but basically it's a semi-biblical and more serious take on FOP, where the fairies are angels, anti-fairies are demons and pixies... I think they can stay as pixies, or maybe they're ghosts, bees? (There's a lot of things I still need to figure out) Their tasks are to work as missionaries on the planets of Eden (planets where life exists). There's a bunch of other lore (some of which I've explained on my casual/personal account on Instagram), but it's best I leave it for another time.

Btw: if you've seen me talk about a "Below the Stars AU", "Bible AU", "Ager DLC" or something else, it's all just the same thing. I just had a hard time coming up with a good name for it lol.

Also speaking of which, I have another post coming up (hopefully) where I explain my reasons for shipping Peri and Dale. It can honestly, out of context, seem like a toxic yaoi crack ship, but believe it or not but I managed to make it the opposite; plausible AND healthy. I want to enlighten you all plus I really want to yap about them.

It feels super funny to ship such a underrated ship. I'm used to shipping semi-popular ships, so to now be all alone feels kinda fun! They have so much potential and so few are seeing the vision?? Though to be fair I'm also glad it's not that famous lmao.

Ps. Ignore the fact I haven't posted anything here for at least half-a-year. All my mutuals are on Instagram, so I don't have a need to post here, though now I've decided to dedicate this account to hyperfixation slop so maybe you'll be hearing from me much sooner.

Ps. Ps. I currently have a 22-page-long google doc filled with lore and info about almost everything I've thought of for the AU, but it's 80% in Finnish so sharing it is useless.

Man, I love writing unnecessary long posts knowing I'm the only one reading them❤️😍 though if you HAVE gotten this far, here's a little treat:

My body refuses to draw Dale in his original outfit. I like to pretend Peri helped him change a bit (most notably taking off his goddamn shoes, though they do have some lore that I've created. GGHHRRAAA EVERYTHING HAS LORE ATTACHED TO IT GRRRR). Also Dev isn't actually grumpy, he just likes to act tough.

My art style looks probably so inconsistent❤️

#peri x dale #fop peri #fop dale #the fairly oddparents: missionaries of eden au #the fairy oddparents a new wish #the fairly oddparents #fairly oddparents #art #peridale

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darkacdemiasworld · 3 months ago

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Theodore Nott x ravenclaw OC

“Layla-” Never in her life would she imagined that tone of from him, desperate- panicked as he followed her with wide strides down the corridor “Layla would you just listen?-”

tears burned her eyes, dark as beads and brimming, as she turned to him, sharply face etched with a mixture of both anger and hurt “what?”

“you got it wrong” theo breathed his hands coming to reach for her own, she pulled away and his eyes softened wirh disappointment “believe me you got it wrong”

her jaw clenched and she almost turned away again but he stepped closer, looking down at her, breathing heavily “she kissed me, not the other way around-“

“you could’ve pulled away” she hated how her voice nearly cracked

God she sounded pathetic, truly.

Everyone she knew had warned her, every single one of her friends whether from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor or even Slytherin the entirety of hogwarts had advised her to stay away from Theodore nott

and like a fool, she didn’t listen

“i’m done with you” she furiously wiped away her tears wirh a fist “truly, if you want to go ahead and have a new girl on your arm every other week, who am i to stop you?”

“no, hey cut it out” he frowned eyes furrowing with slight panic “listen to me would you? 5 minutes”

This was stupid, she knew it better than anyone

she should walk away and never talk to him again

but perhaps it was the late nights by the astronomy tower

perhaps it was the laughter shared by the black lake

or even sneaking into and out each others common room at the sight of dawn

She was looking for an excuse, and hated herself for it

“I didn’t pull away because i was surprised ” he said quietly looking at her and speaking carefully “i didn’t enjoy it nor did i think of kissing her back for a moment. it’s just- the first time i’ve seen her like that since we broke up and i didn’t think she’d throw herself at me like that, i swear”

thea scoffed but her face broke and theo pulled her closer to him

“i didn’t want to kiss her layla” he breathed, voice a quiet sense of desperate

“you’re the only one i want to kiss”

“stop” she mumbled but he only continued

“i don’t want to break your heart.”

“you already have” she shoved him off, tears in her eyes “i’m not competing for your attention nott.”

“you’re not.”

“i truly am” her frown deepened as she sighed “theo, at the end of the day we live completely different lifestyles, i’m sorry but if i have to fight over you then-“

“you don’t” his eyes gleamed “i’m yours.”

she raised an unamused brow “are you?”

“in every way layla.”

she didn’t quite know how to respond to that, melting slightly against him as strong arms wrapped around her waist and the back of her head

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girlnextvore · 4 months ago

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OC Deep Dive - Rosa Núñez

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

In life Rosa feared commitment very very deeply but was in a cycle of doing NOTHING about it. She dated the girl her parents picked out for her (as a man at that point) and was even ready to propose cause her dad said it was time

In her vampire life Rosa fears killing on accident very deeply, she sees it as the final showing she is no longer her own person. She also has a fear of deep water. And being seen as "replaceable"

Do they have any pet peeves?

SHE HATES BEING TALKED DOWN TO. And she hates getting attitude when trying to help.

She dislikes people who can not see the deeper meaning in things like art. She gets super angry when someone picks a flower with no purpose for it. She also hates those who attack the insecurities of others.

Also dirty nails. As a gardener and botanist she is always making sure her nails are clean.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

You would find ALOT of plants but mostly Holy Ghost ORchids as its what she needs for her bane to sleep. She has them usually put around her bed and some physically on her bed. ALso other plants hanging above her bed

You would see ALOT of really cute vintage platforms, its one of the few luxuries she loves. She loves a cute platform knee high boot more then anything

The portrait of her and her wife that is in a frame made of human bone.

What do they notice first in a person?

Face shape, like literally how their flesh hangs on their skull. She loves interesting facial shapes, after that is smell. She is very into the scent of a person so she tries and places it quickly.

If its a more business or serious setting its how someone speaks. She will ignore physical looks and smell to HEAR you, she believes so much of how someone is is the way they speak to someone and use their voice.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

This is complicated.

Physically: I will say her tolerance for Physical pain is FAIRLY HIGH. She is a Koldun and alot of her sorcery requires her to do BIG AMOUNTS of damage to herself and even sometimes with fire. She takes it in stride pretty well. Also her and her wife get into "Freaky shit" So I am going to give her like a 8 out of 10. I will say however even if she can HANDLE IT her body will give out alot sooner then her mind will

Mentally: If its anyone thats NOT her wife like a 8. If its Alezya like a fucking 3 if THAT. Her Resolve is her highest stat but it just doesn't matter when its Alezya she knows how to really get in there deep

Emotionally: Basically the same thing as mentally. Like a 7 but when its Alezya it knocks it down to like a 5.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

Oh its actually flight. Very rarely does the "pressure" get to her but when it does she fucking leaves. ITS HER WORST TRAIT, She is really tough and will stand by you but if it ever gets TRULY HARD on her she might run

What animal represents them best?

So I usually use a weeping Willow to represent her like even in my mind her Beast is a old and scary tree. But if I had to use an animal.

I think the pfeffer Cuttlefish. Its cute and its rare to run into it but it can kill and it kills so easily. Even without wanting to do it. Also the other worldly nature of it works perfectly for her.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"Extremely beautiful and kind (She has the 4 dot looks merit)" Very much feels and looks as if she is wise beyond her years. Even has a motherly vibe for a woman so "young"

I think once she speaks to them it shifts to "Beautiful but also strange. She almost looks sad under that smile"

Do they have any hobbies?

Oh Rosa's main hobbie is botany and cross pollinating plants. She also enjoys sewing every so often and other artist things. She presses flowers and also designed 90% of her own tattoos.

Besides that she has been trying to catch up on music so she listens to atleast 100 new songs a week. There is also Koldunism but she doesn't consider that a hobby anymore since she is a fairly accomplished Koldun at this point in her unlife

--------------------------------------

Thank you @aztarion for tagging me! I alrady did it once but this was a good excuse to do it again for Rosa!!!!

I already tagged a fair bit of people last time but ill tag @eric-the-bmo @rhiannon42 NO PRESSURE if you dont wanna do it!

#Rosa tag

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chiefpapermuffinpasta · 1 month ago

Text

a deadly calm inside - 5

pairing: dean winchester x oc!witch!reader

chapter summary: After reluctantly seeking refuge at Cordelia’s, Sam and Dean begin to suspect there’s more to her past with Marjorie than she’s letting on. As Marjorie battles her own demons, both literal and personal, she sets a trap for the wraith that has been haunting her, forcing herself to face the pain it thrives on. But when Marjorie finally enacts the ritual, she is left with no choice but to destroy the wraith and walk away from the only mother figure she’s ever known. Now, wounded but resolute, she joins the Winchesters in hunting down Meg, setting the stage for a new, volatile alliance.

word count: 14.0k

marjorie outfit inspo 2 3

marjorie get behind me! i really loved writing this chapter and building marjorie's relationship with the winchesters. i know there still isn't any smooching, but it's a slow burn for a reason lol. also, i know this is a dean fic, but how would we feel about a sam fic? im actually a sam girl and i don’t think he gets enough love on tumblr, but u guys can let me know. enjoy!!!!!

*****

The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air as Marjorie slid into the diner booth, stretching her legs across the seat. The place had a charming, old-school feel- faded red vinyl booths, a jukebox humming in the background, and the faint clatter of plates in the kitchen. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, a perfect slice of normalcy.

Dean grabbed the toe of her boots, shoving her legs to the floor, and dropping into the seat across from her. His eyes looked over the menu, scanning to see shock on her face. She couldn’t see the rest of his face, but she knew he was smiling. Sam slid next to him, giving him a pointed look.

Sam looked over at Dean’s menu. “You’re really gonna order that much grease this early?” Dean looked down at his watch- 8 am.

“It’s never too early for a bacon cheeseburger.”

A waitress walked over, her name tag showing ‘Becca.’

“What can I get started for you guys?” Her deep brown hair was tied loosely into a side braid and she had a pretty shade of red painted on her lips. Dean definitely noticed.

He flashed her a toothy grin, giving her his order.

Sam rolled his eyes, Marjorie mirroring the movement.

“I’ll just get some eggs and whole wheat toast, thanks.” Sam gave her a nod, handing his menu to the woman.

Marjorie followed, Becca not even making eye contact with her as she ordered a short stack of their chocolate chip pancakes. Becca gave her a small smile, though it didn’t really reach her eyes.

“Coming right up,” she said as she her teeth found her bottom lip and she gave Dean the same eyes the main character of a rom-com gives the love interest.

“That happen a lot?” Marjorie asked Sam, pointing to Dean.

“Why? You jealous, carrot top?”

Dean's smirk quickly turned to a grimace as one of Marjorie’s heels jammed into the top of his foot.

“You wish.” Marjorie huffed.

The three fell into a comfortable silence, and Marjorie leaned back in her seat , soaking in the moment- the warmth of the diner, the smell of sticky syrup, the rare, fleeting sense of ease. It felt normal.

Normal never lasted.

Sam cleared his throat, eyes flicking back and forth from Marjorie to the salt shaker in front of him. “Do you ever talk about it?”, he asked, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him.

Becca sauntered over to their table, carrying three plates gratefully.

Impressive, Marjorie thought.

The woman placed the three plates in front of the trio, the smell overwhelming Marjorie’s nostrils. She was hungry, genuinely hungry. She smiled at the feeling.

But then she remembered Sam’s question.

With fake confusion, she shoved a forkfull of pancake in her mouth. “Talk about what?”

Dean watched her cheeks double in size as she ate, a fluttering in his stomach appeared. Just hungry, he thought to himself.

Sam hesitated before clarifying. “The night you died.”

Marjorie froze mid chew. Her fingers tightened around her fork and knife, swallowing thickly. She glanced between them- Dean was quiet, watching her carefully, and Sam, ever the empathetic one, looked like he already regretted bringing it up.

She let out a dry laugh. “Really? We’re doing trauma talk over pancakes?”

Sam started to backpedal. “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine,” Marjorie exhaled, pouring a mountain of syrup over her already soaked pancakes. “I mean… you guys already know the basics, right? Might as well go all in.”

Dean shifted. “You really don’t have to.”

She nodded to him as a thanks. She considered brushing it off but Cordelia was right- she need to talk about it. Exposure therapy or something. If this brought her closer to killing the wraith, then she was willing to do it.

“I remember it being cold. The kind of cold you feel in your bones, you know? Eleanor and I… we were inside by the fire. I was reading her a story.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Then the door busted open.” She remembered the way to wood cracked and flew around them by the force.

“There were so many of them. Neighbors, people I’d helped, people I thought were my friends. They dragged me outside before I could register what was happening.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I was kicking. Screaming. Fighting. They used a witchcatcher.”

Dean raised a brow.

“It’s a collar used on witches. Once its on, we’re completely restrained. I had no control of my powers.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenched under the table.

“None of them could look me in the eye. I was nothing to them anymore.”

Sam’s expression was unreadbale, but she could sense the pity.

“They called me unnatural,” she spat. “That I was cursed. That I was dangerous.” Her throat tightened and her eyes looked to the window next to the booth. “And then they took Eleanor.”

Silence. Sam stiffened and Dean let out a heavy exhale.

Marjorie continued, pushing through the lump in her throat, resting her head on her hand. “She was only six,” she whispered. “She didn’t understand what was happening. She just kept calling for me, kept crying-” she sucked in a breath. “I begged them to let her go. Swore I’d leave too, do whatever they wanted, but they didn’t listen.”

The room felt smaller. Heavier.

“They tied us up,” she said. “Strapped us to the stake.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Marjorie’s gaze was far away now, lost in memories she couldn’t escape. “I told her to close her eyes,” she murmered. “Told her that everything was going to be okay.” A bitter smile twisted on her face. “I lied to her.”

Deans voice, when it came, was hoarse. “Jesus, Marjorie.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. “She was so scared,” her lip trembled. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing.”

Silence again.

Marjorie took a deep breath, then another. “The flames caught so fast,” she continued, voice steadier now, colder. “I remember the pain- you don’t forget something like that. How it felt like my skin was peeling away, like my insides were boiling.” Her fingers twitched as if she could still feel it. “But I didn’t scream. Not at first.”

Dean’s head dropped slightly, like he physically couldn’t take it. Sam didn’t take his eyes off her.

“Her screams were terrible. Such a small thing, subjected to so much pain. And then she stopped- there was nothing.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

“That’s when I cried. I tried so hard to soothe her, but it did nothing. How could it, you know? And then, she died.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

The Marjorie let out a shaky laugh, bitter and humorless. “And then I woke up. The air wasn’t cold anymore. I had been gone a while. ”

Dean muttered, “You said you killed them. The ones who did that to you.”

Marjorie snorted, though there was no real amusement in it. “I did. I hunted them for months- I wanted them to know I was coming. I wanted them to be scared.”

Dean met her gaze, and something shifted.

Not fear. Not wariness.

Understanding.

He might not have known what is was like to be burnt alive, to lose a child, but her understood vengeance. Understood the kind of pain that carved out a piece of you and left something rotten in its place.

Sam exhaled slowly. “Marjorie, I’m so sor-”

“Dont,” she cut in. “No ‘I’m sorrys.’ That’s not why I told you.”

Sam nodded, understanding her boundary.

Marjorie forced a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “So. That’s my super fun backstory. Now you know why I’m such a delight to be around.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “You were definitely a pain in the ass way before that.”

A genuine laugh bubbled in her throat, surprising even her. Sam rolled his eyes, but the heaviness in his expression had eased, just a little.

“What was she like?” Dean asked, shoveling a fry into his mouth.

Marjorie stuffed a pancake into her own as her eyes lit up.

“Eleanor?”

Dean nodded in confirmation.

Marjorie stared at him. No one had really bothered to ask her that before. The people who knew about Eleanor didn’t care much to know about the girl. Just that she was Marjorie’s daughter, and that she was dead.

For a second, she didn’t know what to say.

“She was…” a small, distant smile ghosted her lips. “She was sunshine.”

Sam and Dean both listened, the weight of her words settling over the table.

Becca had made her way back to the table, starting ask them, Dean mostly, if they needed anything else at the moment.

“We’re fine,” he told her, his eyes not leaving Marjorie.

Marjorie’s fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup absentmindenly. “She had the biggest laugh. You know the kind- too big for her tiny little body. It would just burst out of her, completely uncontained.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “She used to laugh so hard she’d get hiccups.”

Dean’s lips twitched upward. “She sounds like a handful.”

“Oh, she was,” Marjorie said, her smiling growing. “I was sixteen when I had her, so we were basically just two kids trying to figure everything out together.”

It was Sam’s turn to raise and eyebrow.

“It was the 1800s Sam, not a nunnery. Though my father wasn’t very happy about it.” Sam laughed at this.

Marjorie continued, leaning back again, placing her palm against her chest. “She was stubborn as hell. Always asking questions, always pushing limits. If she wanted something, she wasn’t gonna stop until she got it.”

“She sounds like you,” Sam told her.

Marjorie huffed. “She was better than me.”

Something flickered in her expression then- grief, love, something deeper than either of them could name.

“She used to bring home stray animals,” Marjorie laughed. “Birds wth broken wings, half-drowned kittens, even a damn fox once. She’d look at me with these big, wide, brown eyes and say ‘Mama, we gotta help them.’” She huffed a breath through her nose. “I could never say no.”

Dean swallowed hard, breaking his gaze from Marjorie to look down at his hands.

Marjorie didn’t notice. “She loved flowers,” she added. “Would spend hours in the yard, picking them just to give them away. She’d shove them into people’s hands, tell them they needed to smile more. Hers was my favorite. Her front teeth were bigger than the rest so they poke out everytime she smiled. She was a beautiful little girl- she had this long brown hair and when she was in the sun for too long, she’d get a couple freckles that scattered across her cheeks. I don’t know where she got that beauty from.” Marjorie brought a hand up to her own face.

A confused look spread across Dean’s face, but he shook it away quickly. His voice was low. “She sounds like a good kid.”

Marjorie nodded. “She was the best.”

The weight in the room was different now. Not just grief, but warmth. Love. A memory that wasn’t just pain, but something worth holding on to.

Marjorie stretched her arms over her head. “Anyway,” she said, forcing herself back to the present. “That’s enough tragedy for one morning. “Who’s paying for my breakfast?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m too young to be a sugar daddy, sweetheart.”

Marjorie smirked. “Scared of a little philantropy?”

Sam sighed, already reaching for his wallet.

Marjorie and Dean met eachother eyes again. They could feel the shift.

Niether of them minded.

It was nice to be understood.

*****

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of Cordelia’s house, the engine ticking as Dean threw it into park. Marjorie sighed, already reaching for the door handle.

“Well,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice, “it’s been fun. Thanks for the food, the riveting conversation, and the ride home.” She popped the door open and slid out, turning back with a half-smile. “Drive safe.”

She expected them to nod, maybe toss out a keep in touch before peeling off into the horizon.

Instead, both brothers got out of the car.

Marjorie’s stomach dropped. “What are you doing?” she asked, brows knitting together.

Dean shut his door with an easy shrug. “Walking you to the door.”

Sam shut his a second later. “And letting you know we’re staying.”

Marjorie blinked. “Come again?”

Dean stretched, like the answer was the most natural thing in the world. “Look, you told us everything you know about Meg, which means we’re dealing with her. But first, we’re handling this wraith situation. Might even get us closer to her.”

“What about your dad?” she challenged.

“He’ll be fine. Right now, we’d just be in his way,” Sam said simply.

Marjorie stared. “You—what—no, that’s not—” She exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. “That’s not how this works.”

Dean tilted his head. “Says who?”

“Says me!” She threw up her hands. “I told you what I know, so you can go do your whole heroic martyr routine and deal with Meg. I’ll take care of the wraith.”

Sam arched a brow. “And if you die?”

Marjorie faltered.

Dean sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Look, sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’re in this now. I know you don’t need help, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

Before she could fire back, the front door swung open.

“And where exactly do you two plan on staying?”

Dean grinned up at Cordelia, still standing in the doorway. “We were just getting to that part.”

Cordelia snorted. “Let me guess. You two decided to be knights in shining Carhartt and refuse to leave until Marjorie stops being self-destructive.”

Dean’s grin widened. “See? You get us.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, but Marjorie caught the flicker of relief beneath her usual dry amusement.

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come inside.”

Dean clapped his hands together. “Not you.”

Dean blinked. “Uh—”

“I was talking to Marjorie.”

Cordelia leaned against the doorframe, extending an arm in invitation. Marjorie didn’t hesitate, bounding up the steps, a quiet sense of security settling over her the moment she reached Cordelia’s side. She didn’t leave the house much these days. Standing out here, on the open lawn, she felt exposed—like a raw nerve waiting to be struck. The wraith could be watching. Could be waiting.

Instinct told her to go where she felt safest.

Sam cleared his throat. “Look, we’re not trying to overstep. But we’ve got strength in numbers. If we handle the wraith first, we don’t have to worry about it getting in the way when we go after Meg.”

Marjorie hesitated. Damn it. He had a point.

She turned to Cordelia, their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Cordelia, for all her posturing, sighed like she was already regretting this decision. “Fine. But don’t touch my stuff.”

Dean let out a triumphant laugh. “Define stuff.”

She pointed a warning finger at him. “If anything in this house explodes, goes missing, or turns up broken, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Dean said, strolling past her. “So, you got a guest room?”

Cordelia shut the door behind them with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re staying wherever you annoy me the least.”

Dean beamed. “Your couch is pretty comfy.”

Cordelia muttered something under her breath, but Marjorie caught the ghost of a smile before she turned away.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

*****

A week passed. Somehow—against all odds—they hadn’t killed each other yet.

If anything, it was almost… nice.

Mornings settled into a rhythm. Cordelia staked her claim over the kitchen like a queen defending her throne, muttering hexes under her breath if anyone so much as glanced at her coffee before she’d taken her first sip. Marjorie quickly took over cooking after the first morning when Dean’s attempt at making bacon nearly set the entire house on fire. (No one knew how it happened. The bacon was fine one second, then whoosh.)

Sam, unsurprisingly, was the easiest housemate. Up at the crack of dawn, he spent his mornings buried in whatever lore books he could scrounge up, helping Cordelia research while sipping black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the mortal plane.

Dean, on the other hand, had a talent for making himself very present.

And Cordelia?

Cordelia had made it her personal mission to make Dean Winchester’s life as inconvenient as humanly (or magically) possible.

It started small.

Dean would reach for his coffee, only for the mug to slide an inch out of reach at the last second.

Then his knife and fork would flip out of his hands every time he picked them up.

At first, he thought he was losing his mind—until he caught Cordelia smirking over the rim of her cup.

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” he muttered.

“Kid, I know I’m funny,” she shot back.

The next day, his beer mysteriously turned into chamomile tea the second he took a sip.

The day after that, every time he put on his boots, something inside them squished unpleasantly—like Jell-O had been melted into them overnight.

“You’re a menace,” Dean grumbled after discovering his leather jacket had inexplicably shrunk two sizes.

Cordelia patted his cheek with faux sympathy. “Don’t test me, hunter.”

Meanwhile, Sam was treated like a prince.

“Oh, Sam,” Cordelia cooed one morning. “I made you some tea for your headache.”

Dean, mid-bite of toast, nearly choked. “Wait, what?”

Sam, amused but wary, accepted the cup. “Uh… thanks?”

“Oh, and I found an old book in my collection.” Cordelia placed a massive, ancient tome in front of him, dust curling up from its worn leather cover. “It has some theories on dream-walking that might help with your research.”

Dean stared at the scene in utter betrayal. “Where’s my book?”

Cordelia didn’t even look up. “I gave you a book.”

“No, you gave me The Beginner’s Guide to Knitting and You.”

Cordelia sipped her coffee with a slow, smug smile. “Exactly.”

Dean groaned, shoving the book away like it personally offended him. “Unbelievable.”

Marjorie snorted into her tea, and Sam barely hid a smirk.

*****

Marjorie wasn’t sure why she was awake.

It wasn’t a nightmare, for once. It wasn’t some lingering shadow of her past creeping in. She just…wasn’t tired.

So, she wandered to the living room, where the fire had burned down to embers and the whole house was quiet. She expected to be alone.

The brothers had been sleeping in a room off the back porch on a small, cramped pull out couch. Dean had offered he and Marjorie share a bed as he was too big to share with his brother, but Marjorie, obviously, turned him down.

She wasn’t alone.

Dean was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his chest, the other loosely gripping a bottle of whiskey. His eyes flicked up to her when she entered, and instead of the usual smirk or snarky remark, he just tilted the bottle slightly.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Marjorie shook her head, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You neither?”

Dean shrugged. “Whiskey helps.” He took another sip then glanced at her. “You want some?”

Marjorie considered it for a moment. She could’ve made a joke about how carrying around a bottle of whiskey is usually a tell-tale sign you should go to AA, but she didn’t. She just nodded. Dean leaned forward, offering the bottle, and she took a long sip before handing it back.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, passing the bottle back and forth in comfortable silence.

Then, Dean glanced up at her, something amused in his expression. “So, be honest with me- how much of Cordelia’s magic is just to mess with me specifically?”

Marjorie laughed. “Oh, at least seventy percent. The other thirty is just Delia’s sass.”

Dean groaned. “I knew it. She turned my beer into tea.”

“That one was actually my idea,” Marjorie admitted, smirking.

Dean turned to stare at her. “You’re evil.”

She grinned, stretching her legs out to sit atop the coffe table in front of them.

Dean noticed her socks had tiny witch hats and brooms on them. Cute, he thought.

“Not evil, just…magically gifted in the art of pettiness.”

Dean shook his head, but he was laughing. “Alright, I’ll admit, it’s kinda cool. You’re magic, I mean. I’ve never really spent this much time around a witch.”

Marjorie raised a brow. “You, really?”

“Whatever.” Dean lifted the bottle to his lips again.

Marjorie bit the skin on her lower lip shyly. “You wanna see something cool?”

Dean sat up a little. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Marjorie help up a hand, finger curling slightly. The air in the room shifted, warm and electric. Then, suddenly, tiny glowing embers- like fireflies made of pure blue light- flickered into existence between her fingertips, dancing through the air like they had a mind of their own.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. “Damn.”

Marjorie flicked her wrist slightly, and the embers swirled upward, shifting into different shapes- first a bird, then a flute, then a car that looked suspicously like the Impala.

Dean let out a low whistle. “Awesome.”

Marjorie smirked. “I know, right?”

Dean reached out, as if trying to touch one. Embers curled around his fingers gracefully, then flickered away softly. “So, what else can you do?”

Marjorie thought for a second. The, grinning, she lifted her other hand and snapped her fingers. The fireplace roared back to life in an instant, sending warm golden light soaring around the room.

Dean raised an impressed brow. “That’s useful.”

“Sure is,” Marjorie said. “Especially in winter. Or when I want a dramatic exit.”

Dean snorted. “I knew you were the type to make your own dramatic lighting.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it.

The pair sat there, the fire crackling , the half-empty whiskey bottle between them.

Dean watched the tiny glowing shapes fade into the air. “You know…you’re alright Marjorie.”

She glanced at him, rasing an eyebrow. “Was I not alright before?”

“Jury was still out.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dean tipped the bottle toward her. “To magic, whiskey, and not murdering each other in our sleep.”

Marjorie tinked a knuckle against the bottle. “Cheers to that.”

The air around them continued to warm. Marjorie smiled to herself.

She liked Dean Winchester.

*****

Dean was two bites into his sandwich when his phone buzzed against the worn wooden table, rattling slightly.

Marjorie leaned beside him against the counter, idly flipping through one of Cordelia’s old spellbooks, though Dean doubted she was actually reading it. Sam stood at the sink, rinsing out his coffee mug with the methodical precision of someone pretending not to eavesdrop.

Across the room, Cordelia sat cross-legged on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. To the untrained eye, she looked disinterested. But Dean knew better. She was watching. Analyzing. Measuring the space—no, the tension—between him and Marjorie. And maybe, just maybe, pretending she couldn’t smell the desperation coming off both of them. Clueless.

The phone buzzed again.

Dean ignored it.

It stopped.

Then immediately started ringing again.

“Just answer it,” Sam sighed, shaking water from his hands as he reached for a dish towel.

Dean scowled and snatched the phone up, barely glancing at the caller ID. “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

“Where are you?” John Winchester’s tone had a way of filling a room, even over the phone.

Dean’s jaw tightened. His grip on the sandwich went slack. “Still working that case.”

“The case should be closed by now,” John snapped, his irritation cutting through the static. “I told you boys to track Meg, not play house with some—”

Dean shoved back from the table so abruptly that his chair scraped against the floor with a sharp screech. Marjorie’s fingers stilled against the pages of her book.

“We got a situation, alright? We’re handling it.”

Silence. Heavy. Tense.

On the couch, Cordelia finally stopped flipping channels. Even Sam, who had been making a valiant effort to appear disinterested, turned slightly, his back going rigid.

John exhaled, the sound crackling over the line. “What kind of situation?”

Dean hesitated. His eyes flicked to Marjorie, who kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the book in her hands, though he knew damn well she was listening.

He wasn’t going to rat her out. The wraith was her fight.

“Just some complications,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

John’s sigh was sharp and unimpressed. “We don’t have time for complications, Dean. We’ve got a demon on the loose, and she’s dangerous. I need you two back on the road.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Dad, we’ve got something dangerous here too. Once we finish this, we’re back on Meg. I promise.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then John spoke again, his voice lower, laced with something heavier than before.

“You’re getting attached.”

The words landed like a blow to the ribs.

Dean stilled.

Cordelia finally looked up from the TV. Sam abandoned the pretense of not listening, his fingers curling into the dish towel.

Dean forced a hollow chuckle. “What?”

“You know what,” John said, voice cold and clipped. “I warned you about her, boy, and now look at you. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? When did some crush become more important than your mother?”

Dean’s fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white.

John sighed, a sound weighted with finality. “Do what you want. But don’t forget why you’re out there.”

Then the line went dead.

Dean exhaled sharply and set his phone down—harder than necessary.

Cordelia, ever unfazed, flipped another channel. “Well,” she drawled, stretching her legs out on the couch, “that was tense.”

Marjorie moved toward Dean, reaching for his arm in a small, hesitant attempt at comfort.

“You alri—”

Dean jerked away, shrugging her off with a roughness that wasn’t entirely intentional. “I’m fine.” His voice was sharp. Clipped. He turned on his heel. “I gotta go get some stuff. Be back in twenty.”

He grabbed his jacket off the couch in one fluid motion and stomped toward the door, slamming it behind him with enough force to make the walls rattle.

Marjorie scowled, throwing her hands up in exasperation before flopping onto the couch beside Cordelia.

“Men.”

They said it in unison.

From the sink, Sam let out a barely contained snicker.

*****

The air outside was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the evening still humming with the remnants of the summer heat. The back porch creaked under Marjorie’s weight as she stepped outside, a glass of wine perched inbetween her fingertips. Dean was already there, lounging on the old wooden swing, one foot braced against the railing to make it sway in a steady rhythm. He was still in the same clothes as earlier; hadn’t even taken off his boots when he got back to Cordelia’s. He didn’t look up when she approached, but there was a tension set in his shoulders that told her she knew she was there.

Sam was perched on the porch railing, leaning back with his arms crossed against his chest, his face lit only by the soft glow of the setting sun and the illuminating porch light. He hadn’t said much since Dean got back, but his posture was relaxed, which for Sam, was probably the closest he got to being at ease.

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking between the two men. The weight of John’s call earlier, hell the few weeks, was pressing on her chest, and she could feel exhaustion in every muscle. But there was something about the quiet of the night, the low chirping of cicadas, being here with them, that made it a bit easier to breathe.

Dean shifted slightly on the swing, and the motion pulled her out of the spot. He patted the spot beside him without saying a word.

It wasn’t much, but it was an invitation.

She sat down in the free space next to him, her eyes darting over to Sam briefly. Her gave her a small, almost knowing smile before leaning back against the railing again, staring out at the backyard.

Marjorie could feel Dean’s presence next to her, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the silence, the only sounds being the creaking of the swing and the distant rustle of leaves.

The arm Dean had hanging over the back of the swing knocked against her shoulder with every sway of the seat. The warmth she felt was definitely just the wine. His fingers twitched a couple times, brushing against her skin lightly, almost featherlike. Neither of them did anything about it.

It was a peaceful kind of tension. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she knew she didn’t want to be the one to break it.

After a long moment, Sam broke the silence. “So, about Cordelia…” His voice was casual, but there was something about the way he phrased it that made it clear he had questions.

Marjorie’s lips curved into a faint smirk. She leaned a bit more into Dean, the small swing not giving them much room for personal space. “What about her?”

Dean snorted, reaching for the beer bottle resting beside him on the swing’s armrest. “You mean, why does she hate me?”

Sam tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “I wasn’t gonna put it like that but, sure. Seems like you two have a special connection.”

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand. “I don’t get her. She’s got that vibe like she’s too cool for school. Hell, she thinks I’m the enemy.” His voice softened slightly, and Marjorie caught the hint of frustration in it. “I don’t know. Can’t seem to break that woman’s guard.”

Marjorie tilted her head, studying Deans profile for a moment. “She’s been through a lot,” she said quietly, her voice softer than intended. “Trust isn’t something that she just hands out.” Her fingers traced the rim of her cup, eyes unfocused as she thought about Cordelia’s hard exterior.

“She loves Sam,” Dean complained, his fingers now grazing against the red strands of hair sitting next to him.

“Sam’s…nice,” Marjorie saw the way Dean’s face contorted as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t think he was sunshine and rainbows. “He’s not as rugged as you- he didn’t come barging in here like he owned the place. Plus, she has a thing for pretty brown hair.” She winked at Sam.

“Gross, Marj. She’s old enough to be our mom.”

Marjorie shrugged. She’d seen stranger things.

Sam’s gaze studied Marjorie’s relaxed attitude. The scene in front him him looking almost domestic.

“Maybe that’s why you two get along so well.” The words hung in the air, and Marjorie blinked, unsure of what Sam was getting at.

Before she could ask, Dean shifted beside her, the action causing her to sink deeper into his side.

“Don’t you start,” Dean muttered.

Sam threw his head back, looking up at the sky, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “What? I’m just saying. You two have a thing for doing things the hard way.”

Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “I don’t have thing, Sammy.”

Marjorie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way his lips turned into a tight, almost pained smile.

Something about it made her want to reach out, even if she didn’t know how.

And then the moment passed, just as quickly as it had come.

“You definitely have a thing.” Marjorie tilted her glass toward Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, but it was obvious he wasn’t mad. He was the little brother, the one who always played the peacekeeper, and tonight, it felt like that role was written into the lines of his face. “I think we’ve both figured that out by now,” Sam said, then added with a grin.

Dean scowled at Sam but didn’t argue.

The evening stretched on, and for once, Marjorie didn’t feel like she was standing on the edge of something dark. She didn’t feel the weight of the past or the unrelenting pull of the wraith chasing her. Instead, she felt normal- like the kind of person who could laugh and joke with two brothers who had somehow become her allies in a world of chaos.

Dean shifted again, his thigh brushing against hers. They sat there, side by side, the easy warmth of the night wrapping around them like a blanket.

They existed in the same space, content to share the silence and the quiet rhythm of the swing creaking beneath them.

At some point, Dean nudged her with his shoulder, the playful grin creeping back into his voice. “So, you think Cordelia has a friend for me? S’ not fair that Sam gets all the fun.”

She arched an eyebrow, leaning just a little closer. “You’re a dog.”

He chuckled softly, the sound more real than it had been all day. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her lips parted with a small, teasing smile. “It wasn’t meant as one.”

The evening stretched on, and the trio continued their stay on the porch, their voices mingling with quiet sounds of the night.

Dean was mid-sentence, telling some old hunting story when Marjorie’s words cut through the comfortable banter with a sharp edge.

“You guys can leave if you want.”

Sam snapped his head over to her. He glanced at Dean, who was suddenly still beside her, a slight tension creeping into his posture.

Dean, who’d been so lost in the conversation just moments before, now gave her his full attention, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” His voice was low, the playful tone from earlier gone.

Marjorie shifted slightly on the swing, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She finally met Dean’s eyes, and there was a vulnerability there that she didn’t usually show. "You’re not really stuck here with me. This is your job- hunting down Meg. I know you’ve got bigger things to do. I wouldn’t blame you for leaving. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and I'm not some…side quest."

Sam’s gaze softened as he jumped down from the railing, his large frame blocking her view of the night sky. “Marjorie, no,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. He crossed the space between them and stopped a few feet away, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach her. “You’re not just some side quest.” He shot a glance at Dean before focusing on her again, his words sincere. “We don’t just leave people behind. That’s not how this works.”

Dean’s jaw tightened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. Marjorie could see the flash of frustration in Dean’s eyes- he was tired, she knew that. But there was something more there, something that wasn’t just about their situation.

After a long pause, Dean finally spoke, his voice gruff. “You think we’d just walk away now? We’re a part of this, Marjorie.” He gave a short, dry laugh, as if he didn’t even believe what he was saying, but there was no denying the sincerity behind it. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his tired eyes before turning to face her fully. “This thing with the wraith…it’s your fight, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we’re just gonna pack up and leave. We’re here. We finish it.”

Marjorie felt a strange weight lift from her chest, but there was still an ache there, a tightness she hadn’t realized was lingering.

Sam gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not about the wraith. It’s about you. We’re not going anywhere until you’re safe. That’s the deal.” His voice was calm, a little like the brother Marjorie never asked for.

Her eyes softened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard and leaned back against the swing’s edge, letting out a quiet sigh.

Dean watched her carefully, his gaze more intense than usual, the weight of everything that had happened hanging between them. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “Look, Marjorie… You think we don’t want to be here? You think this is some kind of burden? Nah, it’s not. We’re doing this because we want to. Yeah sure, at first we thought you and Meg were in kahoots, and honestly I was coming here to kill you,” He took a deep breath, his voice rough. “But obviously, I was wrong. We’re gonna help you.”

Marjorie looked away for a moment, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite name. She felt a strange mix of gratitude and guilt- a nagging feeling that she shouldn’t be relying so much on them. But the warmth of their words, their concern, melted some of that doubt. She could feel the sincerity in every glance, every word.

"I’m just saying," she said, her voice quieter now. "You’ve been here for over a week and we’re only a bit closer to being able to kill this thing. You guys have to go save the world or something."

Dean cut her off with a shake of his head, the stubbornness in his voice as unmistakable as the set of his jaw. "We’re not going anywhere."

Sam nodded firmly, his smile softening as he glanced between them. "We’re gonna take care of it. After that, we’ll go find Meg."

Marjorie swallowed her words, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t expect this level of care- not from them, not from anyone but Delia anymore. Just months ago Dean couldn’t be in the same room as her. It was overwhelming, in a way that made her feel like she might break, or maybe- just maybe- she might let herself believe in the possibility of something more.

She turned to Dean, her gaze softening, and allowed herself to breathe a little easier. “Thanks,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I-I wasn’t sure where I stood with you two. We don’t have the greatest history.”

Dean leaned back against the swing, the motion easy, casual, but his eyes never left hers. “That’s old news. Don’t sweat it.” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.

The words hung in the air for a long beat before Sam cleared his throat. “Well, if you two are done being all sentimental, I’m pretty sure there’s a stash of candy bars in the kitchen, and Cordelia isn’t awake to tell me they’re gonna rot my teeth.”

Dean snorted, breaking the tension with a laugh. “Sam’s right. We don’t want to exhaust ourselves on all this emotional crap.” He nudged Marjorie with his elbow. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you sit there and feel sorry for yourself.”

Marjorie chuckled softly,“Who says I’m feeling sorry for myself?” She raised an eyebrow teasingly at Dean.

Sam smiled, stepping back toward the door. “Oh, you’re definitely feeling something.”

Dean stood up, offering her a hand as he did. “You coming? I’m not letting Sam eat all of them. I need my chocolate too.”

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking up at him with a faint, teasing smile. “Are you sure you want to share with me?”

Dean’s lips twitched. “I’m a generous guy.”

“Generous? I’ve never seen you share anything willingly,” Sam chimed in from the doorway, shaking his head with a knowing grin.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh before heading inside. For now, Marjorie knew she didn’t have to do this alone.

*****

It had been days since the phone call with John, and Marjorie hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The wraith’s presence was like a shadow, always lurking just beyond the edge of her perception. At first, it had been whispers- a faint voice barely audible, like a soft breeze brushing against her ear. But now, it was louder, clearer, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere.

She sat alone in the kitchen, the flickering light above her casting odd shadows on the walls. Sam and Dean were in the next room, likely discussing their next move, but Marjorie couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything. The wraith’s voice was too loud. It had been for the past few days.

“You’re weak,” the voice crooned from the corners of her mind, the words curling like smoke around her thoughts. “You think they’ll save you? They won’t. You’re just a liability.”

Her hands shook as she set the coffee mug down on the counter, the sound of it clinking sharply in the quiet room. Her gaze flitted to the doorway, where Dean had been standing earlier, and for a moment, she saw him again- only it wasn’t Dean. The figure that filled the frame of the door had hollow eyes, a twisted grin, and an unmistakable air of malevolence.

“They’re just waiting for you to break,” the wraith whispered, its voice wrapping around her like chains. “You’re nothing but a ticking time bomb. They’ll leave you. They’ll all leave you in the end.”

Marjorie blinked rapidly, pushing the image away. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and she had to remind herself that it was just the wraith. It was not real.

She stood quickly, wiping her face as if to rid herself of the unwanted visions. The last few days had been a blur of hallucinations and taunts, each worse than the last. At times, she felt like she wasn’t even in control of her own body. The wraith had gotten inside her head, and it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her.

Dean moved to where she sat in the kitchen, his expression unreadable, but there was concern in his eyes. “You good?” His voice was steady, but there was a slight tightness to it, as if he could feel the shift in the air.

Marjorie didn’t trust her own voice. She nodded curtly, unable to shake the feeling that the wraith’s whispers were still echoing in her mind.

Dean’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw something flicker there- something more than just concern. “Don’t let it get to you.”

But Marjorie didn’t hear him. The wraith’s mocking voice came back, louder this time.

“They’re just lying to you. They don’t care. You’re nothing but a tool to them.”

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she thought she might crumble. But she didn’t. Not yet.

“I need some air,” she muttered, forcing herself past Dean and out the door before he could stop her.

Dean’s voice trailed after her, low and urgent. “Marjorie-”

But she was already outside, pacing on the porch, trying to drown out the wraith’s voice with the cool night air.

Behind her, Cordelia stood by the door, watching with a careful, measured gaze. She’d seen it all- the way Marjorie began to flinch and cower, the way the wraith’s taunts had started to chip away at her. Cordelia watched the slow descent, seemingly out of nowhere, knowing exactly what it was like to feel the weight of something haunting you, pushing you to the edge. But she couldn’t let Marjorie see her own fears. Not now. Not when the girl needed her.

Her chest tightened, but she shoved the feelings down, forcing a calm exterior. She should have known this would happen. The wraith was a curse, not just a creature. It would latch on, find a weakness, and exploit it- exactly what it had done to Marjorie. Her own secret crawled up her spine like a cockroach, suffocating her. Meg was back and she led the Winchester’s here. She had taunted Cordelia the same way the wraith was taunting Marjorie. If Marjorie found out- Cordelia didn’t believe the girl of cold murder, but she didn’t do well with betrayal.

But still, watching Marjorie like this, it felt wrong. Cordelia wasn’t someone to wear her emotions on her sleeve, even with Marjorie, but now as she saw the toll that the wraith was taking on the younger girl, she couldn’t help the bile that rumbled in her gut. She should be helping her more. She should be doing more than standing back. Selfishly, her fear of Meg interfering the second Cordelia made too much of an effort stopped her from giving Marjorie the comfort she deserved. If she did too much, Meg would find them and expose Cordelia to all of them. That she had once worked with Meg on deals just like Marjorie’s. That, deep down, she knew the wraith would be back one day- no one escapes a deal with a BloodWraith. That she could find Meg’s location in minutes, and the Winchester’s could have a shot at ending her. But that was uncertain, and Cordelia wasn’t one for wishful thinking.

She glanced at Sam, who was silently observing, his concern for Marjorie clear. Dean had gone silent, the tension in his body palpable. The unspoken bond between the three of them was tangible, and Cordelia knew she was the outsider here, unable to be part of that. But still, the guilt gnawed at her.

Marjorie was fading quickly and despite everything, Cordelia couldn’t ignore the pang of fear that she might lose her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. She loved Marjorie, truly. Looked at the girl like she had hung the stars in the sky. That’s why she was terrified. Terrified of seeing hate in Marjorie’s eyes and knowing it was directed at her. She couldn’t bear it.

"I don’t know how much longer she can take this," Sam muttered, as though reading her mind. He was standing next to her now, his hand resting on the back of the porch railing, his eyes focused on Marjorie.

Cordelia’s gaze flickered to him before she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s strong. She’ll push through it. But…”

Her voice faltered, and Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. "But what?"

But I’m scared, she thought. She couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when Marjorie needed every ounce of strength she had left to fight this. Cordelia bit her lip, staring at the woman she had known for so long, seen so many versions of, and cared for each of them. But still, she kept her secrets locked away.

“I just hope she can,” Cordelia said, her words edged with something more than just concern. It was fear. Fear that the wraith would break Marjorie. Fear that Marjorie would break them- and maybe it wasn’t just the wraith she was afraid of.

The air grew heavier, the tension building between them as they watched Marjorie move through the haze of the wraith’s influence. Dean stepped forward, his hand gently landing on her shoulder as he joined her on the porch. The others followed suit, standing in a quiet solidarity.

But Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Whatever the wraith was doing to Marjorie, it was far from over.

*****

The wraith’s taunts were becoming more frequent, more aggressive. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there, twisting her thoughts, feeding on her doubts. Marjorie barely slept, knowing that even when she closed her eyes, the wraith would find a way in.

The silence in the room was oppressive, suffocating even. The air itself felt thick, as if the wraith had somehow infected every corner of the space, bending it to its will. Marjorie felt the walls closing in around her, her breath shallow as the taunts continued to echo in her mind.

"You don’t belong here," the wraith whispered again, its voice cold and biting. "They’ll all leave you eventually. You’re nothing to them, just a tool. Once they get what they need, they’ll cast you aside. Just like everyone else."

She shook her head, pressing her palms harder against her temples, trying to force the voice out, trying to push the suffocating weight of its words away. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t.

"You're worthless," the wraith’s voice came again, louder now, more insistent. "They’re already starting to see it. The cracks are already showing. They’ll know you’re weak. And then they’ll abandon you."

The world around her blurred, her vision swimming as the wraith’s words dug into her like sharp needles. She stumbled backward, the edge of the table digging into her ribs as she tried to steady herself. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Except, in her heart, a tiny part of her wondered if it was. What if it was right? What if everyone else really would leave her? What if the wraith’s voice had seen the truth before she could? What if she was already a burden to them, already a failure?

"Marjorie?" Dean’s voice was soft now, more tentative. "We need to talk."

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. She could feel him standing outside the door, waiting, probably wondering why she hadn’t answered. But she couldn’t bring herself to respond, couldn’t let him hear how far gone she felt, how much the wraith had already taken from her.

"Yeah," she finally said, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I’m fine. No need to get all soft."

The words felt like they were scraping against her throat, but they were the only ones she could force out.

A heavy silence followed, stretching between them like a chasm. She could almost feel Dean’s hesitation on the other side of the door, his concern mixing with something else- frustration, maybe. Was he angry with her? Did he think she was hiding something?

"We both know you’re not," Dean said quietly after a beat, his tone softer now, but still holding that edge of worry.

Marjorie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. If she did, she feared the crack in her composure would widen even further, and she’d be lost. She didn’t know how to explain it to him- how to make him understand the way the wraith had invaded her mind, how the darkness felt like it was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t tell him how it whispered to her when no one else could hear it, how it twisted her every thought, every feeling.

She pressed her back into the wall, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to push the images and voices away. She could feel it all closing in again, the suffocating grip of the wraith creeping up on her, and the fear that it might be right- maybe she was weak, maybe she was just a failure.

But she wasn’t ready to let that truth- if it even was the truth- consume her. Not yet.

She opened her eyes slowly, and for a moment, just a moment, she could hear Dean on the other side, waiting, still unsure. His presence, even from behind the door, felt grounding, a reminder that maybe she wasn’t as alone in this as the wraith wanted her to think.

But still, she couldn’t let him in- not yet. Not until she could hold herself together, at least enough to face him without falling apart.

"Just give me a second," she finally whispered, so softly that she wasn’t sure he would hear it.

And for a long while, there was nothing. No answer, no footsteps retreating. Just silence. The kind of silence that left her trapped between her own thoughts and the wraith’s relentless whispers.

*****

The wraith didn’t let up. Not for a second.

Marjorie had barely slept in days, the taunts digging into her mind like claws, twisting her thoughts until she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. But tonight—it was worse.

She had been lulled into sleep, exhaustion finally winning out, but rest never came. Instead, she was there again. The house smelled of burning wood and blood, just as it had all those years ago.

And then, she saw her.

Eleanor.

Her daughter stood at the edge of the bed, small and fragile, just as she had been the last time Marjorie had seen her. Her dark curls were messy, her nightgown torn. But it was her eyes that made Marjorie’s stomach twist with terror- because they were filled with fear.

“Mama?” Eleanor’s voice wavered, tiny and afraid.

Marjorie couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Then she saw what stood behind her.

The wraith loomed over Eleanor, its skeletal fingers curling around the girl’s small shoulders. It grinned, wide and monstrous, its yellowed teeth glistening in the dim light.

“You let me have her once,” it cooed, its voice echoing through the house. “You’ll let me have her again.”

“No,” Marjorie choked, finally finding her voice.

“Oh, but you will.”

The wraith’s grip tightened on Eleanor, and the little girl screamed- a heart-wrenching, piercing cry that shook the foundation of the dream itself.

Marjorie lunged forward, but the second she reached for her daughter, the image shattered.

She gasped awake, her body drenched in sweat, her heart slamming against her ribs. She was in her room at Cordelia’s, but it still felt like she was there, trapped in the nightmare.

The wraith’s laughter echoed in her skull.

Marjorie sat up, breathing hard. The truth hit her like a slap to the face.

This was never going to stop.

It would keep tormenting her, keep whispering in her ear, keep dragging her daughter into her nightmares. It would never stop unless she ended it herself.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the blankets aside. She wouldn’t let it win.

She wouldn’t let it take anything else from her.

Not now. Not ever.

She stood and crossed the room, grabbing the small bag she had packed earlier that day- just in case. Her fingers curled around the leather strap, and she took one last look at the room before slipping out the door.

She was doing this alone.

Because it had to be her.

*****

The stillness of the house was off.

It wasn’t the typical quiet of the night, where the wind rustled the leaves outside, and the world seemed to hum with secrets whispered just beyond reach. This silence felt wrong, sharp- a quiet that pressed on Dean’s chest like a weight, making him uneasy for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, the tension from the last week still eating at him. They had now been at Cordelia’s for two weeks, and each day Marjorie seemed to get worse and worse. After hours of tossing and turning, he’d given up on rest. Coffee was the only thing that could numb the gnawing discomfort that had taken root. As he passed Marjorie’s door on the way to the kitchen, a fleeting thought stopped him in his tracks.

Her door was cracked open.

A thread of anxiety coiled tight in his gut.

"Marjorie?" Dean called softly, his voice cutting through the oppressive stillness. His feet carried him closer to the door before he even realized it.

There was no answer.

He pushed the door open, his heart rate picking up, eyes scanning the dark room. The moonlight streamed across the bed, empty but for tangled blankets. The missing bag from the corner, the one she’d packed earlier, was gone.

And then it hit him.

She was gone.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, his body already moving in the direction of the stairs, a cold, familiar panic curling at the edges of his mind.

“Son of a bitch.”

He stormed down the hallway, intent on finding her, his thoughts running wild. The wraith. She was going after the wraith. And she was doing it alone. Damn it, she was reckless, always so damn reckless.

Sam was already awake when he appeared at the door of the backporch, rubbing his face and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking at his brother.

“She’s gone.” Dean didn’t stop to explain, barely slowing his pace as he strode past Sam.

Sam frowned, confusion still clouding his features. “Wait, what?”

“She took off. Packed a bag. No sign of her anywhere.” Dean reached for his jacket, frustration mounting with every second that passed.

Cordelia appeared then, emerging from the shadows like a shadow herself, her sharp eyes immediately landing on Dean. “What’s all the noise?”

“Marjorie’s missing,” Dean snapped, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on him.

Cordelia’s face darkened, a storm brewing in her expression. “Damn it.”

Dean’s frustration bubbled over. “You knew she’d do this?”

“I suspected she might,” Cordelia admitted, her voice tight with a mixture of anger and fear. She grabbed her coat, her movements precise. “But I was hoping she'd have enough sense to wait.”

Sam, ever the detective, was already putting the pieces together. “She’s going after the wraith.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the words coming out in a tight, exasperated breath. “Yeah. Thanks, Sherlock.”

Cordelia’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with a mix of concern and something darker, something she couldn’t quite hide. “Then we’d better move.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, that silent agreement passing between them like a spark. No hesitation. No second thoughts. They couldn’t let Marjorie go face the wraith alone. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through.

Dean grabbed his keys, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Let’s go.”

As they rushed out of the house, Cordelia’s thoughts churned, a storm she struggled to contain. She was terrified for Marjorie, of course. But that wasn’t the only thing keeping her up at night. If Marjorie went after the wraith, if she confronted it—there was a real chance that Cordelia’s secret, the one she’d buried so deep inside for so long, could come to light. And if it did—if the brothers found out what she was hiding—there was no telling what would happen next.

She could feel it closing in on her, that dark fear that she might lose everything she’d worked so hard to protect.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what scared her more than anything else.

*****

The abandoned warehouse loomed out before Marjorie like a hollow, forgotten shell. The air inside was thick with decay, the once strong structure now bowing under years of neglect. The cieling, lined with rusted beams, creaked and groaned in protest as the wind outside clawed at the walls, but in here, it was dead quiet. The scent of damp earth and rotting wood mingled with the sharp, pungent tang of incense, creating a strange tension that clung to the air, making every breath feel heavy.

The candlelight flickered, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the cracked concrete floor. Marjorie moved carefully, each step deliberate as she centered herself within the sigil-marked containment circle. The symbols were intricate and glowing faintly- a brilliant blue- barely visible in the dark, but they had been drawn with precision, each stroke of chalk and blood a calculated effort to trap the wraith.

An incessant drip fell to the floor, the thick, crimson liquid draining from her now cut wrist and plummeting to the floor with each step she took. The pain from the cut did not phase her- one, insignificant injury was helping her end this.

Her fingers tightened around the relic she had brought- the locket. It was small, fragile, and twisted from the fire that had destroyed everything she had once known. No one knew she had kept the jewelery- she was scared it would be taken from her. The delicate metal had been burned, the glass cracked, but it was still there, the remnants of her daughters life. A life lost. A past that haunted her.

She had allowed Eleanor to occupy her thoughts more in the past two weeks than she had since the day she lost her. Perhaps it was Cordelia’s warmth and admiration, or maybe it was the way Sam looked at her with those soulful, puppy-dog eyes when he asked about what happened. Or maybe it was how Dean gazed at her, as if they were the only two people in that diner, while she rambled on and on about her little girl. She wasn’t sure what it was. But one thing was clear: she had stopped avoiding it, letting the brothers slip past the walls she’d worked so hard to fortify.

Her heart hammered in her chest, as she knelt before the circle, placing the locket directly in the center. This was the final step. The wraith would come for her, of course. It had been lurking in the shadows, feeding off her fear, her grief. But this time, it wouldn’t win. This time, she would take back control.

The chanting started, the words flowing from her lips, ancient and familiar, yet foreign at the same time. Latin. Or perhaps something older. Something her grandmother had once spoken, something that had been passed down through generations of women who had carried their power in silence. She didn’t understand all of it, but she didn’t need to. She knew the intent. She knew what needed to be done.

The air around her vibrated with energy as she spoke the incantation, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The sigils around the circle flared to life, glowing brighter as the ritual took hold.

For a moment, everything was still.

And then, the wraith answered.

A gust of wind, sharp and sudden, whipped through the space, though the windows were shattered long ago. The candles flickered wildly, casting strange, erratic shadows against the walls. Marjorie felt the shift in the air, the temperature plummeting, the weight of it pressing against her skin like a heavy hand.

It was here.

Her breath hitched as the whispering started, faint at first, like the rustling of leaves on a distant breeze. But then it grew louder- closer. A sound that slid under her skin, into her bones.

“Marjorie…”

The voice was soft at first, almost tender, like a memory. But there was a dark edge to it, a twist that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her focus. This was it. This was the moment she had been preparing for. The wraith would show itself, and she would confront it. She had no choice.

“Mama…”

Her heart stopped, and for a moment, she felt the ground beneath her shift. She could hear it so clearly- Eleanor’s voice, sweet and innocent, calling to her from the depths of the memory she had worked so hard to bury. It was different than her dream. Eleanor was here. The same voice that had echoed in her ears the night of the fire. The same voice that haunted her dreams, her waking hours.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with the force of something she couldn’t outrun. She was back there, back in that horrible place. The heat of the flames licking at her skin. The smoke that had suffocated her. The crackle of fire eating away at everything she had ever loved.

“No…” Marjorie whispered. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself go back there. Not again. Not now.

But the wraith was relentless. It wasn’t just a shadow. It was a memory made flesh, a cruel manipulation of everything Marjorie had ever feared.

The temperature dropped further, the air thickening with a cold that bit into her skin. The warehouse seemed to darken, the walls stretching and shifting as though the very space itself was warping under the wraith’s influence.

And then she heard it- the scream.

It was so real, so visceral, that Marjorie felt her chest tighten, her breath catching in her throat. She could see it now- Elanor’s face, pale and twisted with pain, her small body writhing as the flames consumed her. The smoke choked her, and the heat was unbearable. The vision was vivid, too vivid, like it was happening all over again.

“Eleanor…” The name slipped from her lips, a cry of agony that she couldn’t hold back.

The wraith was feeding on her grief, on the weakness it had always known was there.

But Marjorie fought to stay grounded. She could feel the ritual pulling at her, the energy of the sigils battling against the wraith’s pull. She had to stay strong. She had to let go.

“Mamma… Help me…”

Eleanor stood before her. Barefoot. Soot-stained. Brown eyes hollowed by death.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

The words dug in like barbs. Marjorie’s entire body went rigid, the knife in her hand growing impossibly heavy.

“You let me burn.”

The words twisted, warping into something grotesque, the voice no longer her child’s, but something ancient and cruel. The girl’s lips turned into a sneer, her small hands flexing as nails blackened and sharpened into talons.

“You let me die, screaming for you.”

Marjorie staggered back, nausea curling in her stomach.

“No, El, I swear. I tried everything. Baby, there were too many of them.”

“You were supposed to be powerful, mama. You left me alone. I have no one.”

“You’re not real.” Marjorie jammed her fists into the side of her head, over and over again, trying to rid the image of her dead daughter standing in front of her.

The wraith was a parasite, feeding on the worst parts of her. It was using her love for Eleanor as a weapon, twisting it into something ugly.

Eleanor was gone. The child she couldn’t save was lost to the flames.

The wraith wasn’t her. It wasn’t Eleanor. It was just an echo, a twisted thing that had been feeding off her pain.

Marjorie’s eyes snapped open, and she stood taller, her hands clutching the blade. “You cant control me anymore,” she hissed, her voice steady, almost cold.

The wraith’s form flickered and shuddered, its distorted figure contorting as it reached out toward her. The air around them seemed to scream with a deafening roar, the force of the wraith’s power shaking the very foundation of the warehouse.

But Marjorie didn’t flinch. The fire in her veins wasn’t just from the ritual-it was from the anger. She wasn’t just fighting the wraith. She was fighting her own weakness.

The sigils around her flared with light as the wraith fought to maintain its form. The more Marjorie accepted the truth, the more it shrank, its ethereal body weakening.

“I’m not scared of you.”

And then, just as it seemed the wraith was about to snap into full corporeal form, the door to the warehouse crashed open.

Cordelia stepped into the room, her eyes wide with shock at the sight of the writhing shadow in front of Marjorie. She hesitated, fear flashing across her face as she watched the battle unfold.

“Marjorie, you-” she started, but Marjorie didn’t listen. Her focus was fixed entirely on the wraith, her grip tightening on the blade she had drawn earlier- a consecrated weapon soaked in blood. The ritual was almost complete. The wraith was vulnerable.

Suddenly, the air felt alive, buzzing with malignant energy, and a whisper cut though the stillness.

“Cordelia, how nice of you to join us.”

Marjorie stiffened. Her eyes flickered toward Cordelia, who had stepped back slightly, her expression panicked. Marjorie’s pulse quickened- what was going on?

A soft laugh echoed, cruel and guttual, from somewhere deep in the shadows. The sound twisted, warping, and then the wraiths form expanded- larger and stronger than before. It was using Cordelia’s fear.

It’s eyes, dark and glistening with malicious intent were fixed on Cordelia.

“Oh this one,” the wraith hissed, stretching its words like a snake, mockery evident in its words. “She’s so good at pretending, isn’t she? At hiding her true nature… her secrets…”

Marjorie’s heart stopped for a moment, but her stance stayed firm and her eyes didn’t leave the wraith. She could feel Cordelia stiffen, but her hands rattled against her sides.

“You think you’re so clever, Cordelia… you think you’ve hidden it all so well… but I see you… I know you…” The wraith’s form flickered and rippled, growing more solid with each passing second. Its voice grew louder, more distorted, like the scraping of nails on a chalkboard. “How many times have you danced with darkness, hmm? How many times have you betrayed those you claimed to love?”

Cordelia’s breath caught. Marjorie’s eyes widened as she saw the flicker of panic in Cordelia’s eyes- the subtle tremble of her shoulders. It was the same look Marjorie had seen in her own reflection, the same terror of being exposed, of being known for something terrible. The wraith was feeding on that fear, twisting it into something sharp, something deadly.

The wraith’s laugh echoed, guttural and sharp. “Poor, poor Cordelia… how many times did you think you could lie to her?” It was a sickening mockery of sympathy. “You think you’ve escaped your past, but I know what you did.”

Marjorie’s mind spun, and suddenly the pieces started clicking into place. The way Cordelia had always been so protective, so careful with Marjorie. The unspoken tension. The guarded glances. The secrets she’d kept hidden beneath the surface.

The wraith’s shadowy form grew bolder, twisting into something almost human now, a grotesque, sneering parody of a person. The voice that came from it was now low and slithering. “What was it you offered to get all of this? To live this lie? Tell her, Cordelia… tell her what you’ve done.”

Cordelia’s hand tightened at her side, her knuckles white. “No- stop,” she hissed, stepping back. But the wraith’s voice only grew louder.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, Cordelia. I know. I see you. How much blood has stained your hands? How many people have you thrown away to keep yourself safe?” The wraith took a step forward, its eyes glowing with cruel delight. “How you led me right to your precious Marjorie. You and Meg. Does she know that you were one of my best soldiers? How you found all those sad, innococent people and tricked them into deals? How you’re the reason I am here in the first place.”

Marjorie’s pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach twisting as she watched Cordelia’s mask crack, just a little. Just enough for her to see it- the fear. The guilt. The truth.

“I- I didn’t-” Cordelia’s voice was shaky, her lips pressing together as if she were struggling to keep herself from breaking down. But the wraith didn’t give her the space to explain. It wasn’t interested in explanations. It was interested in torment.

You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you tried to control everything around you?” The wraith’s sneering face moved closer to Cordelia, its shadow darkening her features. “You were never just her ally, were you, Cordelia? You were her jailer. You thought you could hold her down, keep her from realizing the truth about herself. About you.”

The air was thick with tension, a mixture of guilt, betrayal, and suffocating fear. Marjorie could feel it pulling at her, tightening around her chest, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. Not now. She had to see it. She had to know.

The wraith wasn’t done. It turned its attention back to Marjorie, its mocking grin widening.

“You think she’s your ally? Your friend? Your savior?” It twisted the words, each syllable laden with contempt. “What happens when you find out she’s been playing you all along? Without her, you would’ve never made that deal with me. Would’ve never had the false hope of a daughter reborn- would’ve never had to see sweet Eleanor die for a second time.”

Marjorie’s blood ran cold as the wraith’s form flickered and twisted. Its laughter echoed one last time before it finally evaporated, leaving only the cold, suffocating silence that remained between them.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved.

Cordelia stood frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that was a mix of shame and terror. The breath left her in a shaky exhale, as though the wraith’s words had carved deep into her, leaving marks that would never fully fade.

Marjorie’s heart pounded, a cold rage beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t just confronted the wraith tonight- she’d confronted her own darkest memories. But Cordelia had betrayed her, too. The truth was undeniable now.

Cordelia had known. She had known the wraith’s true power, and she had been hiding it all along, playing a dangerous game with both Marjorie and herself.

Marorie turned to Cordelia now, blazing tendrils of blue surging down her arms and curling around her hands. “You knew.” Her voice was tight, controlled. “You did this to me.”

Cordelia opened her mouth, but the words came out weak, barely a whisper. “My girl, I didn’t-”

“You brought that thing to me. You knew I would say yes- that I would die.”

Marjorie’s voice cracked. Cordelia had been just as much part ofthis as the wraith.

“I left that life behind,” Cordelia’s voice was choked, full of something that could’ve been regret. Probably fear. “I chose you. I protected you for years, Marjorie. Everything I did- it was to keep you safe.”

“You lied to me.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” Marjorie’s entire being was shaking now. The ground beneath them rumbled slightly, shaking the old building like the wind in a thunderstorm.

Cordelia, her Cordelia, the woman who had raised her, cared for her, loved her- had been hiding this from her the entire time.

The wraiths form flickered again, its mocking laughter filling the room with the worst kind of poison. “It’s too late now, Cordelia. She’s got you all figured out.”

Marjorie barely heard it.

Her eyes were locked on Cordelia’s, searching for something, anything that would make this hurt less.

“Do you have any regrets?” she whispered. “Doing this to me?”

Cordelia swallowed hard. “Every day.”

The wraith laughed again.

"Tell me, Marjorie-if I let you hear her voice again, if I let you see her little face just one more time-would you let me in? Would you let me crawl inside your head, take all that grief, all that guilt, and make it stop?"

It stopped in front of her, right in her face, breath like spoiled meat.

"You want that, don’t you? To be free of this?"

Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe.

For a terrifying, shameful second-she did want that.

No more waking up gasping for air.

No more hearing screams in her dreams.

No more guilt sinking its claws into her ribs.

Just… nothing.

But then she thought of Cordelia’s voice, steady even in her betrayal.

She thought of Dean’s concern, of Sam’s quiet faith in her, of the life she had built-however fragile.

She thought of everything this thing had taken from her.

She would not let it win.

"No."

The wraith’s grin twisted into something monstrous.

"Liar."

It lunged.

Marjorie barely had time to react before it was on her, knocking the knife from her grasp. She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling her bones.

Cold fingers wrapped around her throat.

Her vision blurred, the air squeezed from her lungs.

The wraith hovered over her, its face shifting-Eleanor, Cordelia, Meg, even herself.

It wanted to break her.

To own her.

Her fingers scraped against the floor, desperate, searching-until they curled around something familiar.

Cold metal.

The locket.

The last thing she had of Eleanor.

The offering she had used to summon this monster.

Marjorie gritted her teeth.

With the last of her strength, she slammed the locket against the wraith’s forehead.

The sigils in the containment circle flared to life, blinding-bright.

The wraith let out a shriek of agony, its grip loosening just enough for Marjorie to throw it off. She scrambled to her feet, gasping, reaching for the knife-

And then it was just her and the wraith, both on their knees, facing each other.

Marjorie lifted the blade.

The wraith smiled.

"Do it, then."

Marjorie’s breath was ragged.

The wraith wanted her to kill it in anger. It thrived on rage, on suffering.

But it wouldn’t get that.

Not from her.

"Shut. Up," she whispered.

She drove the blade into its heart.

The wraith screamed, its form twisting, breaking. Its body blackened, its flesh curling away in wisps of ash as the containment circle erupted in light.

For a brief, agonizing moment, its shifting form locked onto Eleanor’s face one last time.

Marjorie clenched her jaw.

"Go to Hell."

With a final, piercing shriek—

The wraith was gone.

Ashes scattered to the warehouse floor.

But the silence that followed felt different. Empty. Marjorie stood there, panting, the blade still in her hand, staring at the spot where the wraith had once been.

Cordelia stepped forward hesitantly, her face pale, eyes full of something Marjorie didn’t recognize-fear, regret, and guilt all mixed into one fragile expression.

Marjorie turned her back on her, unable to face her any longer. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, but there was something else now. Something cold.

She turned to leave.

“I trusted you,” Marjorie said , her voice low, almost calm now. “I trusted you and you didn’t care. One-hundred and fourteen years, Cordelia. That’s how long you’ve had to tell me. ”

“Marjorie-”

“The worst part about all of it, is that if you asked me now, I would probably forgive you.”

Cordelia flinched as though struck, her mouth opening and closing, desperate to find words that could undo the weight of what had just happened. But there was nothing. No excuse, no justification that could erase the truth.

Marjorie stopped at the threshold of the warehouse, her back still to Cordelia. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of burned wax and old blood, remnants of the ritual that had bound and killed the wraith. But the betrayal, the realization that Cordelia had been playing her all along- that was what suffocated her now.

Slowly, she turned her head, her voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut like a blade.

“If I ever see you again…” She let the words hang in the air, thick with unspoken threat. “I will kill you.”

Cordelia sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to stop her.

Marjorie didn’t wait for a reply. She turned and stepped out into the night, her boots crunching against the gravel outside the warehouse. The air was cold against her skin, but inside, she was burning.

She didn’t look back.

*****

Marjorie didn’t stop walking until she reached the edge of the warehouse lot, where the Imapala was parked haphazardly, its doors already open. Sam and Dean stood by the car, tense, weapons in hand. Deans face was a storm of emotion- anger, concern, something deeper he couldn’t put a name to. Sam looked exhausted, eyes flickering between her and the warehouse like he was still piecing everything together.

She barely registered them. Her body felt like it was moving on auto-pilot, her hands shaking as the adrenaline wore off. The night was still, unnervingly so, after everything that had just happened.

Dean was the first to speak. “Marjorie.”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge him.

He took a step forward, cutting off her path before she could get any further. “What the hell happened in there?”

Marjorie didn’t look at him, her eyes somewhere else, far away from any of them. She was breathing hard, the taste of ash and blood lingered on her tongue. “It’s dead,” she said flatly.

Dean searched her face. “Cordelia?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Gone.”

Sam stepped forward, cautious. “Gone?”

“I told her I’d kill her if I saw her again, so for her sake. I hope she’s long gone.”

Silence. The weight of her words hung heavy between them.

Deans mouth pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t argue. He just watched her, eyes scanning every inch of her like he was trying to make sure she was still standing, still her.

Sam, however, frowned. “Marj…”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, her voice raw. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Sam backed off, knowing better than to push her right now.

Dean took a second step forward. “You’re bleeding.”

Marjorie finally blinked, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles were raw, her nails still lined with the remnants of the ritual. The deeper wound on her arm, a thin angry cut from where she bled to summon the raise pulsed quickly.

She swallowed. “It’s a paper cut.”

“Yeah, well, your ‘paper cut’ needs stitches,” Dean muttered, already moving toward the trunk of the Impala to grab their make-shift first aid kit.

Marjorie watched him for a second, some of the ice in her chest cracking, just barely. Then she let out a slow breath and sat down on the open passenger seat of the car, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion she had been pushing back.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dean said after a moment. “Not now.”

Marjorie gave a short, bitter laugh. “Good.”

Dean retuned with the first aid kit and knelt beside her. “This is gonna sting.”

Marjorie met his gaze and sighed, “Go ahead.”

As Dean cleaned her arm, his hands careful but firm. Marjorie leaned her head against the door, her eyes fluttering shut. Sam stood next to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze everytime she would wince.

Dean finished wrapping the gauze around her arm, his mouth set in that gruff, focused line. Marjorie watched the muscle in his jaw ticked, the way he worked through his emotions by doing something. She wanted to say something- maybe to ground herself, maybe to pull the concern off his face- but nothing same.

“We should go,” Dean spoke, rising from his kneeling position.

Marjorie blinked, her gaze stuck to him. He wasn’t looking at her, but his tone was pointed.

Sam looked down at his brother. “Go where?”

“Meg.” Dean exhaled. “She’s still out there, and after everything tonight…” He hesitated, then finally locked eyes with Marjorie. “She’s numero dos, isn’t she?”

Sam scoffed. “Hold on, you’re telling me we’re going into this with no rest, no plan- just full-speed ahead to whatever the hell Meg’s got waiting for us?”

“Yes,” Marjorie’s voice was steady. “And I’m coming with.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to her. “You just took on the wraith alone, and now you want to go hunt a demon?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not sitting around while she’s still out there.”

Sam shifted, like he agreed but didn’t quite want to say it aloud.

Dean let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, you two are gonna kill me.”

Marjorie smirked, just a little. “You’d be bored otherwise.”

Dean shot her a look, but there wasn’t real heat behind it.

Sam cleared his throat, pushing off the car. “We need to figure out where she is. I’ll dig into possible leads, but she’s smart- she’s not gonna make it easy.”

“Perfect,” Marjorie muttered, rubbing her now bandaged arm.

Dean pointed at her. “You are getting rest first.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Not negotiable,” he added.

Marjorie huffed, but didn’t push.

Sam pulled out his phone, already scanning for anything that might give them a lead. “Marjorie, get some sleep.”

She nodded, moving to crawl into the back seat. Dean moved toward’s the drivers side, but before he climbed in he shot her another glance.

“You’re with us now, huh?”

Marjorie tilted her head back against the worn leather. “Guess so.”

Dean shook his head, but a faint smile made its way to his face. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Sam snorted.

Marjorie gave him a wink, allowing herself to relax into the seats, eyes falling shut once again.

Despite the exhaustion, despite everything, they were a trio now. And now matter what came next, they were in it together.

*****

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