#john was never meant to be the 'perfect father' or even a good one. its in the little details

[sexybabystevie]

something something some of the earliest scenes of john we have are of him being paralleled to the demon that killed his wife and destroyed his family, and are of him passed out while drunk in a chair watching something on the tv about war/the military. something something the john portrayed in the winchesters is angry, always seeking out violence so much so that he does rash things like illegally joining the war underage and thinking he can win against a ghost/creature in a fistfight.

[darkstarofchaos]

Let's get uhh...constructicons/Prowl (for the ask thingy)

Don't ship it.

Why don’t you ship it?

The biggest reason is that nothing about the situation was healthy for Prowl. Not only did he become part of Devastator in the most traumatic way possible, but the time afterward was physically and psychologically harmful for him as well. Outside of that, there just isn't much for me to ship there? Prowl sees the Constructicons as a weapon and the Constructicons are just fanboys (up until the narrative decides Prowl needs to be utterly alone and they drop him like a hot potato). The whole situation was incredibly wasted potential.

2. What would have made you like it?

A different writer.

On its own, Prowl being forced into Devastator isn't a deal breaker for me because the Constructicons weren't the ones responsible. They did decide afterwards that they liked Prowl and wanted to hang with him, but until then, he was never even meant to be part of the team; just a disposable test subject for integrating someone new with an existing combiner. And I do honestly get the appeal of, "You were disposable to them, but not to us". Goodness knows Prowl needs someone in his corner. Heck, I can even get behind the angst of "this situation is physically hurting Prowl, but none of them - including him - want to stop".

So the setup was great. Super unhealthy, but you can do some pretty interesting things with unhealthy. But as they say, the devil's in the details.

See, I like the Constructicons. I do not like the way John Barber writes them as an interchangeable amalgam instead of letting them have some individuality. And I really don't like how he tried to resolve that conflict with earlier portrayals by saying that combining "rots away the individual". I like the idea that the Gestalt mind affects its components, not the idea that it supercedes them. I also don't like Prowl's recent instability being ascribed to the combining process and not, y'know. The traumatic events surrounding it. But we get this explanation from Galvatron, who delivers it alongside lies about Prowl killing Spike's father, so I can ignore it. I can pretend it's just another lie.

What I can't ignore is that Arcee doesn't hear this and think, oh, maybe it's not Prowl's fault he's been so erratic lately. Maybe I should see if he's okay when I get a chance. Nope. She just turns on him completely. Because the post-Dark Cybertron arc is the "let's tear away what little support Prowl still has" arc.

So I don't like how the Constructicons were written, I don't like the in-universe explanation for how they were written, and I hate the way everyone saw Prowl falling apart (including people who dared to call him a friend, Optimus), and just went, eh, I don't really care. He's just bad. And then, just to make sure Prowl loses everyone, the Constructicons turn on him too. Because apparently they can spend time in his head and like what they see, but it's still somehow a surprise that the mech who tolerated them because they were useful might not actually want them the way they want him.

Get these mechs a different writer.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

As I mentioned above, the setup is great. It had a lot of potential, not just in terms of the relationship, but for character development, worldbuilding, and even the introduction of something like chronic illness with Prowl's physical health being affected by combining (again, he was introduced to the team as an experiment in adding bots to a combiner. It would make perfect sense if it wasn't an entirely successful experiment).

I also like a lot of the art and fics I've seen for them, even if most people seem to ignore the inherent angst in favor of sweet, funny, and fluffy pieces. I just wish more people dived into the physical and psychological impacts, whether in a shippy way or not.

[nicosraf]

Hello!

I've got an interview coming up for a pretty top Uni and I put angels before man as a possible book that I would be open to discuss.

I was just wondering about your thoughts on the themes of your book, especially the implementing of homoeroticness and the sympathetic stance for a widely condemned character.

Hello!!! Good luck with the interview!!! I hope it goes well and u get into whatever school is the one of your dreams :') I'm honored u named ABM. It's hard to talk about themes without rambling forever so I'll try to ramble just about what you specifically asked about:

On implementing homoeroticism — I think it was important, for me, to inject queerness into the story itself.

It's not a "queer retelling" just because a boy-ish character likes another boy-ish character (Lucifer and Michael don't even identify as men! They're angels!). ABM had to be a queer retelling in the way it told its story (not keeping to a conventional act structure), queer in its world (the angels are all So Flamboyant and Gay), and queer in the coming of age portion (Lucifer grows up feeling Different, feeling embarrassed, having the moment of Sexual Awakening from Seeing Other Boys in the Locker Room and the moment of Falling In Love with the Handsome Macho at the Sports Game, and Lucifer loves singing and dancing and is emotional and feminine; he's queer in a way beyond his attraction to Michael).

Making the homoeroticism so normative meant gushing about how handsome the angels are, about sexualizing them. It also meant using flowery language to sexualize them, to be tender about it. The angels aren't men but they're almost men, and men are usually denied flowery, tender sexualization. I wanted to approach it that way.

And now about making a condemned character sympathetic — I think you can either turn a condemned character into a complete victim (usually by taking their agency away) or make them... complicated. I wanted my take on Lucifer to be the second option for one big reason: the Bible is so strict in being Good vs Evil with no gray, so I wanted to make it gray. If I made Satan just the good guy and God just the bad guy, then I would be falling into that same problematic moral dichotomy of the Bible.

So Lucifer is complicated. He's the victim, but he hurts innocent angels. Phanuel didn't deserve that. Dina didn't deserve that. Baal didn't deserve to be manipulated either. Lucifer was also never really perfect; he was always a bit self-absorbed, and he's always been too quick to get emotional.

But I think positioning the devil as an "imperfect victim" is important too. Victims who lash out in ways seen as "unacceptable" are so often demonized, especially SA victims (which Lucifer is). Lucifer's explosion at the end of ABM was about catharsis, not about revenge, and it's not meant to be pretty (God already made his suffering pretty, made Lucifer cry flowers) or forgivable.

You're not supposed to forgive Lucifer; he doesn't want your forgiveness!

Forgiveness. I think a lot of readers think providing a sympathetic stance for a widely condemned character is about asking the audience to forgive them. Maybe for some authors, that's true, but John Milton, for example, never intended for you to forgive Satan. Recently, the Hunger Games prequel came out, which served as President Snow's "villain origin story" — anyone who read the book or watched the movie knows that Snow isn't forgivable in that. Milton and Suzanne Collins were just... trying to explain them, trying to provide a little nuance.

I think the question of forgiveness is really important when it comes to the devil. The Bible is centered around forgiveness, a lot of Christians ask why God doesn't forgive Satan or why Satan won't accept God's forgiveness.

In ABM, Lucifer begs for forgiveness from God over and over throughout the book. The chapter he meets him, Lucifer crumbles to the ground and says, “Father, Father, be merciful, please have pity on me, please forgive me.” He doesn't even know what he did, but he's sorry, and he's sorry and sorry and sorry until the end. There's this line from the revision that puts it nicely, I think:

'Heaven will despise me. No one can ever love me again.’ “I’ve done the unforgivable.” Lucifer had become the unforgivable. But he was breathing easier, though he didn’t realize it yet; he had unshackled himself from the pity of angels. From the promise of salvation, he had been liberated.

It's always been important to me for Lucifer to become unforgivable in the end, not just for God but for majority of readers. He frees himself from pity (of the angels and of the readers) and from being a "good" victim, from being good. The first to free himself from the moral constraints of wanting to be good — that's really what makes him the devil.

I hope this ramble is helpful :') good luck!!!

[flowersarefreetherapy]

Who is John Laurens?

Oh my dear, dear Raccoon, you have just opened a can of worms that I am so excited to share with you!!! Um . . . this is my special interest, have fun its an essay!!

(content warning for discussions of race-based slavery in the Americas, childhood death, self-harm/suicidal ideations)

So John Laurens was born in South Carolina as the second oldest son of Congressman Henry Laurens, and was referred to as the oldest child after his three oldest siblings all died before he was six (only five of the Laurens children would survive into young adulthood). Henry Laurens was a co-founder of the South Carolina company that imported the most amount of enslaved people near the middle of the 18th century and his wife Eleanor was the daughter of another rich plantation owner, so John grew up in a life of luxury that was built off the sweat and blood of people who were denied rights. 

(quick little note in here, when John was 12, Henry wrote to a friend saying how proud he was of John for focusing only on his studies and not being distracted by the local girls, like all the other boys were. It’s a beyond hilarious letter, given what happened in John’s later years)

When John was about 13-14, Henry took him and his two brothers to London so they could receive the best education possible, as education in the American colonies was not as good as what European education systems provided (if you were a white man only). After two years there, Henry returned to South Carolina to look after his daughters, as his wife passed and they were staying with relatives. This meant that John, at barely 16 years old, was taking care of his two younger brothers–Harry, who was about 14, and James (Jemmy) who was 10. John handled his responsibilities well, even if he did struggle a bit with managing money, but tragedy hit when his youngest brother Jemmy fell one winter, hit his head, and died in his sleep. It was one of the pivotal moments in John’s life that shaped how he treated younger men he met and pushed him to want to be the perfect son for his father. 

John went into legal study instead of becoming a doctor out of that desire to be the perfect son. He studied for several years in Geneva and formed many close relationships with a few of his peers. We don’t have information on how far those relationships went, but we know he was involved in at least two during his years studying there. When he moved back to London, he ended up meeting a woman named Martha and getting her pregnant. Though they would get married, John would leave for the American colonies months later, would never respond to the dozens of letters she sent him, and never met his daughter, Francis. So. There’s a lot of speculation about why he had a relationship with her when she was the only close relationship he had with a woman outside of family and he never wrote her back or seemed to highly value their legal status as husband and wife. The emotions and reasons of everyone involved there is a historical mystery.

But anyway! John is in the colonies! There’s a war! There’s no time to think about silly things like women and college! There’s killing to be done! John Laurens was signed on as one of George Washington’s aides-de-camp, which is where he met a young, driven, determined young man from the Caribbean named Alexander Hamilton. The two of them hit it off right away. They were both smart, desperate for glory in battle, and connected through their shared belief in abolition. An unusual stance for someone of John’s background to take, but he was determined to bring abolition to the colonies, specifically his home state of South Carolina, and he would spend the next 7 so years trying to turn that dream into a reality. He went as far as to ask for his inheritance in the form of Henry freeing the enslaved people who would have been given to him (Henry said no and it sparked a lot of debate between the two of them). So the war is happening. John spends a lot of time between fighting in the north and leading skirmishes in the south. It's from his campaigns in the south that we have the famed Hamilton-Laurens letters that everyone loves so much (I am everyone. That includes me, I will admit it)

John tended to forget people existed if they were not right next to him (which would explain the situation with Martha) and so his letters to Alexander are very sparse, whereas Alexander would write him a letter every week, sometimes even three times in one week. Alexander’s letters are dramatic, full of hope for the future and lots of admiration for John that is very flowery even for the standards of the time. Unfortunately for us, there are portions of these letters that have been burned or torn out, so there is speculation that the contents explicitly stating love that moved beyond friendship and prose, and into revealing an actual relationship. However, it is sadly a very recent trend to focus on queer history, so a lot of their letters have been watered down or outright ignored. There is also a struggle between wanting to use terms that we are familiar with and knowing that, to quote my history professor, that the past is a foreign country and we are just visiting. So to apply modern labels to something such as sexuality when there is no concrete evidence is a heavily debatable stance, especially with the importance of someone choosing how they want to be identified and not having those labels forced on them.

(that being said, I do think the evidence points us to Alexander Hamilton being at least bisexual. He had serious romantic feelings towards both men and women throughout his life, including John Laurens–regardless of whether or not those feelings were returned in that case. John remains an enigma there, though most scholars place him somewhere in the gay category)

Anyway, returning to John from my little tangent. He kept fighting and getting hurt and going out and fighting and getting hurt. The Marquis de Lafayette, who was the youngest member of their trio, wrote in a letter that there was only one battle in which John did not get wounded, though not for the lack of trying (funnily enough, it was the only battle in which Lafayette did get wounded). This leads to the same discussion as sexuality being applied with looking at the mental health of historical figures. At this point in the historical conversations, many historians are in agreement that John was at the least clinically depressed, possibly suicidal. The proof for these claims are evidenced in the way he did not take care of himself at all. He did do exactly as Lafayette wrote; there is not a battle he was in where he was not stabbed or shot. This coupled with a few things he wrote in letters to his uncle when he was younger reveal a young man who struggled with serious depression and a lack of regard towards his own life and safety. It would be this disregard that would ultimately get him killed on August 27, 1782, when the idiot man decided against General Greene’s orders to attack a nearby British foraging group. Did I also mention he was suffering from a severe fever at the time? The American soldiers would be horribly outnumbered and John was killed. He had made serious progress towards integrating the Continental Army in the south and was in conversation with the government of South Carolina to create a battalion of formerly enslaved people. However, after his death, those strides towards abolition in South Carolina were swiftly buried. 

John Laurens’ death greatly impacted those closest to him. Henry Laurens was devastated by the loss of another child and would remove himself fully from politics a few years later. The Marquis de Lafayette would write that John was one of the best and bravest men he knew. George Washington would echo the same sentiments, saying John’s only flaw was his recklessness. And his death emotionally broke some part of Alexander. From the moment John died, Alexander would never form a close relationship with another man. He would have casual friendships, but never again did he have another relationship like he did with John (and if you want to cry, I suggest reading the last letter Alexander sent to John—which he never received because John was dead before the letter got to South Carolina. In it Alexander is all happy about the new country that’s being started and asking John to join him in making the new nation, saying “It requires all the virtue and all the abilities of the country. Quit your sword my friend, put on the toga, come to Congress. We know each others sentiments, our views are the same: we have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy ....Yrs for ever, A Hamilton”)

(if that doesn’t make you cry, I don’t know what will)

Anyway, if anyone has read this far, thank you for reading my impromptu essay. Thank you for the question, Raccoon, and I hope this answers it!

[plasticfangtastic]

Carnivorous Lamb ch. 4

A Homelander x M! OC fic

A/N: Happy reading, this chapter contains spicy scenes of slightly NTR nature, read at your own risk. this chapter its mostly smut lol...prev. chapter:

Tags: r18, ntr-ish, dubcon, age gap (HL is in his mid 20's, OC in his early 40's), DILF, priest kink, moral degradation, slowburn, top HL, Homie its a warning on its own.

Chapter 4

Early Spring

He was bad after all… that’s what his mother had said… that’s why his mother had smothered him… why she never stopped smothering him, why he made his father kill his mother.

He made people do bad things.

That’s why he argued with God about his calling… he must've been mistaken.

He kept people away, rid of all the pretty things in his life that were gonna do him no good but then he welcomed this one… all because he was so pretty.

Now he had broken him.

John would dissapear in the morning.

John would not come back for a long time.

The bruises he left would heal, no longer any proof that he had been here in the first place.

God spoke to him for the first time as he caught the boy on the news, his failures broadcasted for the nation to see.

He spoke with God for many dreamless nights until he understood his purpose.

On a perfect spring Monday morning he came back.

In his garden where the trees flowered readying to bring more peaches, Homelander took a step towards the building glad to see it had been painted recently.

“I should tie a bell on you.”

He almost fainted from the surprise, putting his books to the side, staring him down across the aisle.

“I could learn to knock.”

The priest smile warmly at him.

“I… I wanted to see you…” Amarello whispered.

“You wanted to see me?” he looked around as if he was speaking to somebody else and not at him.

“To know if you were alright? You left without saying goodbye… I was worried…”

The thought of him worrying for him washed away all the nerves off his being, he had done something awful to a man so kind, he had made him break his vows, made him accept his feelings and then dumped him like he was another floozy– he was special so why did he treat him like just another mud-person.

Amarello was nothing like the others… This was more than proof of that… that even after he abandoned him, he still missed him, he still worried for him.

Guilt settled quickly, knowing he had behaved so poorly to a man he should’ve appreciated. To a man who had so much space in his heart left but only for him.

The older man tore the space between them, approaching quickly just to check on the younger man.

“You've been fumbling quite a bit according to the news… have you been praying? You stopped coming for my advice so I assumed you didn’t need it anymore but I hope you still ask for some…” he bit his lips– Is my fault isn’t it? I don’t want you to feel like it's your fault, John… I did you wrong.” 

A hand wearily reached for his face, cupping his cheek glad to be welcomed, glad that the lamb nuzzled his face against his sullied touch.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I swear. I never meant to do that… I… please don’t think I am crazy, Father… I… I have this friend inside me… sometimes… sometimes he takes control. And he’s good! but he’s angry… He has to be stronger and smarter than anybody else, even me… to protect us… he… he’s so angry… and we do these awful things…”

“It doesn’t matter, my son.”

He pulled him closer wanting to hold him in his arms, but choosing not to.

“Tell me what burdens you so heavily that you’re failing to uphold your end of the deal.”

“...end of the deal?”

“God gave you these powers for a reason… your purpose in life is to use them… not to squander them, not so you could fail at rescuing folks from a burning building… It’s my fault, no?”

His hand retreated, ashamed of touching him as those blue eyes watched him in confusion, hands creeping to the sides of the man as soon as he felt him pullign away, he wouldn’t let him go far, Homelander wanted him here with him, wanted to decipher his words with minimal effort.

“You had nowhere to put your burdens because of me… what I did to you… what I made you do… I promise I’ll help you get better…”

“It was…?”

“Is my fault that our lord its turned away from you… why all this awful had befallen you” His once light voice grew heavy– I asked for guidance, I asked and asked until I ran out of breathe to understand what I had to do to help you if you ever came back…”

A mind could conjure a hundred strange things but not more stranger than this priest bizarre words, his gaze so dead he wasn’t sure if this was a fever dream, he sunk into his shoulders, catching a whiff of his scent, wrapping his arms around him, Amarello lacked any hesitation returning his gestures with affection breathing in the clean scent of his soft John– he had made him sick, he thought.

Hence why he had become so sloppy, why he had become a caped danger, even if they saw him as great and pure, he could tell by the mountainwork of propaganda being spouted by Vought to make every mistake appear not so bad, that he was being abandoned by their heavenly father.

Remedy his mistake… he had to by any means.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me…? You don’t think–

“You’re good. You should be good… there’s nothing of you that was carved wrong…. let me help you stay good.” he whispered so quietly, Homelander could’ve missed it if he hadn’t been eager to receive his compassion.

Homelander nuzzled his neck, his lips parting to take in the heated skin, his hand tugging on the cloth.

“All the disease festering in you… let me take it with me… let me carry it for you…”

His taste was sweet, as sweet as his words and his touch, as sweet as peach flowers, this body twisting and learning, adapting and molded to his needs, fast and shallow thrust fill him as the Supe continues to flourish inside of him, his body numb and hazed as the nonstop stimulation continues– as he seeks to build rivers inside him, as he seeks to flood him with all the terrible things that he held back until he’s returns as a blank slate.

Bloodied kisses return old bruises, more handprints tattooed his hips and thighs, as he squeezes and lifts him, as he continues to slam himself with wet grunts, the room echoes every wet sounds, every squeak and mewl that escapes the priest, the doors unlock and for a moment he worries that a choir member will walk in on them, if his usual drunks will walk in on them, if another lost soul would find them… how would he explain that this is not corruption– that this is spiritual medicine? or better say… ritualistic purification.

How to explain as the young men hoist him on top of him stroking his cock as his body grows limp around his shoulders, leaving his sins in the only way God would let him?

Nobody finds him, nobody finds them as the young man cleans him, his tongue savoring the mixture, tongue digging the overly stimulated entrance, it puffs and opens around his lips, crying as his body wants more, his body that’s so weak and wasted somehow craves for more and he has to stop himself from going down that train of thought.

This is merely a duty… he cannot feel pleasure from this, he cannot reward himself with the flesh, this is just the way this messenger had opted to dispose of the sinful seed, of the germinating evil within.

He’s left full of his hate and this numbing heat in his stomach, his ears unable to listen to the words of the young Homelander as he kisses his nape relentlessly.

[governmentdroneoralienspaceshift]

This is some of my happiest stuff because it’s about my boyfriend!! Who i love so much!! And it’s inspired by Taylor Swift and Father John Misty and the most beautiful and inappropriate song to have a first dance to at a wedding your parents are also attending.

Vows for A Chapel in Vegas #6 (in D for two sex addicts)

My loves used to be like the sunsets, fleeting, it could be beautiful, but it burned so much too quickly, it hurt me. I used to think love was supposed to feel like fireworks, love was meant to be like a blazing fire, I never once stopped to realize how hurt my heart felt as it thumped like a wild bird in it’s cage, thinking it was love if the bird beat itself to death.

It is always something to relish, when one is proven wrong, on so many things,

the satisfaction of knowing I was wrong with this, far outweighs any satisfaction being right about anything else could ever give me.

And I am happy to announce to anyone that would listen, that I was wrong, I felt love,

yet not once do I think I was loved.

You are the sunrise gently kissing me good morning,

and the moon gently kissing me goodnight.

I don’t need a blazing fire, you are a tender chandelier, enough to vanquish darkness, not enough to set my life ablaze. I don’t need fireworks to make my heart thump like a wild bird in its cage, your arms are the strong branches it’s been waiting to lay on for so many years, so it can finally sing.

I realized long ago, I had spent far too much of my life in darkness, barely awake, just enough to get by, and it is in my most strenuous show of labor that I, only myself, bring me back, like a newborn who has to breath for the very first time.

There was light once more, but constant, boring even, enjoyable to spend the days,

yet missing something else entirely.

And now you’re here, to light my sky with a sunrise and a moon, I can look up, and not be blinded, for once I enjoy hoping. I found it lovely, that my happiness isn’t solely meant to be you, but you are the most beautiful aspect of it.

I believed love could only be sought after, and I pulled at my string of fate, thinking those I found along the way were the ones to stay, but love is patient, so they say, and by sitting long enough, the string leads right where it’s supposed to lead, and I land exactly in your arms.

“Our love isn’t a burning fire, it’s a candle in the dark”

Steal the words right of my mouth, get in my mind, be mine. Kiss me goodbye a thousand times only to spend the night, kiss me make me forget my name, kiss me go ahead, ask nothing from me and I’ll watch in awe as you proclaim me to be all you have ever wanted.

I don’t understand, I don’t pretend to know, I have not even the slightest clue how anything works in your mind, despite the seeming notion that we inhabit each other’s heads and think alike.

All you have ever wanted from me is nothing.

And I know you ask none of it, but I would give you everything,

my wild, my children, my wine.

I found no use for rings of gold, I only want your hand in mine even if it’s with paper rings.

I want nothing more from you, than you.

You claim me perfect when I am clearly not, I used to think you insane, only now I realize how much it does mean, that you are unable to see my imperfections as inconveniences, but as something else to love about me. I can only think of how insane I must seem to you, doing the same thing, because perhaps just like me, you don’t realize I see you as perfect, despite knowing the very reality of things, which is that none of us are perfect.

You hate what I hate, and I love what you love.

I never once stopped to think, what happens when two people are so good for each other, it seems as if no flaw big enough could exist.

And you ever so giving, ever so compliant, have let me stay wrapped up in your bed sheets for as long as I want, and against all my rules, I lay there completely bare, and plan on staying forever.

I cannot comprehend the way in which you see me, I like me, I’ve gotten to love me, but it does not seem to hold a candle next to your vision of me. Me, who can be inpatient and unkind, me whose words slash and stab when mad. Me who storms out and breaks down, who refuses help until I’m nothing if not another unrecognizable me.

I used to think I wasn’t your equal like that. I could never be so patient, or loving or kind. But sometimes, I am allowed to see, and I accept, I am more like you than I think, and I see more of me in you and I find myself happy with that. Because I can tell it makes you glad.

Love is patient, so I’ve been told, love is kind, so I’ve been told.

But love can lie, love can hurt, love gets impatient and makes you choose, love is mean and makes you leave. I’ve been all of it, experienced all of it. I was mean and impatient, I was lied to and I was hurt and I chose and made my choices.

My choices lead me to you, blindly following a string I thought I could see, I can only now understand it was always a matter of fate, to the butterfly that flapped its wings to the red dress I wore that night. The heart knows what the head thinks it knows, search parties aren’t needed.

Love is patient, love is kind, love is sacrifice, and you are. You are you are you are.

And you ask for nothing back, and sometimes I feel as if I ask too much, just by asking you to be at my side. There is nothing I want more, than your peace, your happiness.

I’m very afraid I might not be able to provide that, and you selflessly hold me in place,

so I don’t turn into a blazing fire, you hold me so I can be a candle.

But if I get to be that, there’s nothing else I’d want to do with my life.

All other pursuits seem meaningless, next to having a life with you.

I have never asked what you mean to do with your whole life, but I hope it’s not too much, to ask to be in it forever? Or to have just five more minutes, wrapped up in your bed sheets.

[dothwrites]

I know this is something popular but not super written about. Would you please consider doing a drabble of Dean finally opening up about how bad John was and Cas absolutely destroying that man? I feel like I could really use some protective bamf Cas right now.

of course! because fuck john winchester that's why

---

"so yeah. dad." dean laughs uncomfortably and takes another sip of his whiskey. "i mean, what can you say?"

castiel could say quite a lot, but he chooses to keep silent. time means little and less to angels, he can float through decades like humans flip through photo albums. he already knows all about john winchester. what matters is that dean knows.

"he was a good dad. he tried. i mean." dean's expression twists.

"it's okay," Castiel begins. allowing dean to leave the shadow of his father has been like sucking poison from a wound. even now, almost fifteen years after his death, castiel can still see the remnants of john winchester pressed on dean, like bruises on clear skin.

"he was never there," dean explodes. "he left me and sam to figure things out--he left me to figure things out. i was the one who had to do everything for sam, who had to raise sam."

dean continues. like a stone rolling down a hill, he can't be stopped. "and if i pissed him off... it was so fucking lucky that i was already good at lying to cover up my hunting injuries. the bruises, the cuts? if anyone guessed the truth, they would have taken us away. i would have lost sam." the bleakness in dean's voice isn't that of a man over the crest of forty. it's the fear of a child, clinging to what they know. castiel's heart aches.

"and when we didn't have any money... after the first time i got caught and sent to sonny's, I knew I couldn't steal anymore. so. so i found ways to make money."

Dean stares down at the floor. his voice is tiny when he says "you were the first. i mean. the first guy that i was with that ever... you were my first that meant something."

castiel can't hold himself back any longer. he reaches out and takes dean's hands in his. dean's knuckles are large--the result of a hard life and injuries. his palms and fingertips are calloused. he's rough. imperfect.

castiel loves him more than he thought was ever possible. his love could shake the earth from its axis.

"dean." castiel's thumb strokes over dean's knuckles. "perfect, wonderful man. you never have to apologize to me for anything."

dean breathes a small sigh that stutters in his throat as castiel says, his voice hard, "your father on the other hand. your father would have to apologize for much."

"what--"

"john winchester was a man who took two of the greatest treasures given to him--you and your brother--and threw them away. he was never a true father, not in the ways that mattered. he was a coward when it came to confronting his loss, and he chose to retreat into hunting rather than raise his two sons."

castiel raises dean's knuckles to his lips. Dean's hands are slack, but he doesn't pull them from castiel's.

"your father never deserved you. he was a weak, cruel man, and the fact that you are the way that you are, is a credit to your resilience, and not to him. i'm sorry that you never had someone to love you like you deserved when you were younger. i'm sorry that you walked those paths alone. I wish i could have been there with you."

"doesn't matter," dean says, his voice thick and choked. "you came when it mattered."

"as I will always do," castiel says, kissing dean's knuckles in benediction. "i strive every day to be worthy of your love."

Dean's snort breaks the spell between them. "be worthy of... for fuck's sake, cas. you saved the world, like. a billion and a half times. I feel like that entitles you to whatever snuggles you want."

"well, one never wants to presume," castiel says primly, his dignity is robbed, however, when dean lunges forward and pushes him back against the couch.

"well, I presume," dean says, lowering his head so that his lips brush against castiel's as he speaks. "and i think that you've earned my love and a little bit besides."

castiel's laugh is lost in dean's kiss.

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Good Enough

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 6,372

Summary: Y/N and Dean are planning their wedding, but a reminder from the past gives him doubts about his relationship and whether he’ll ever actually be good enough for her.

Warnings: Swearing, Dean’s past with Lisa comes back to haunt him, ANGST, Tears, Dean’s self deprecation rears its ugly head, Making up, Fluff.

Music: Love Of My Life - Queen (Dean bar scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: The next time stamp is here! Stay tuned for another announcement soon about the saga! Hope you all like the time stamp! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​.

Y/N pressed the ‘end’ button on her phone, throwing it beside her on the couch with a loud groan of frustration.

Looking down at the coffee table in front of her, she shook her head at the sudden overwhelming feeling. The whole surface of the table was covered in bridal magazines, brochures, printouts of venues, her laptop with multiple tabs open, and everything else that came with planning a wedding. She kept hitting brick walls with every place she was looking at being unavailable for the date that she and Dean had decided on. The only thing she had managed to do was finalize the guest list, which was at 80 people. It wasn’t a big number, but knowing she would have to do the invitations as soon as a venue was decided, it was a lot of people. Luckily, it was everyone she or Dean cared about, without having to make sacrifices for their special day.

Y/N heard the key in the door and Dean’s boots on the wooden floors as he walked through the house. He smiled when he saw her, walking over quickly and leaning down, kissing her softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered against her lips, kissing her again.

“Hey,” she sighed, a relief washing over her now that he was home. “How was work?”

He huffed out a breath as he leaned back against the couch. “Busy. Having the new guy on today didn’t help. I felt like how you must feel with the kids in class, keeping an eye on him most of the time.”

“He’ll get better soon enough, don’t worry,” she reassured him, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

Dean glanced over the coffee table, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “That looks like a lot. You okay? Anything I can help with? Not that I know a damn thing about weddings.”

He smirked with a small laugh, kissing her cheek. Y/N smiled and shook her head, looking down at the table and sighing heavily.

“I keep hitting dead ends with venues, that’s all,” she stated, shrugging.

“Hey.” Getting her attention, he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Everything’s gonna work out. We’ll find something and it’s going to be amazing. I know it.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t really feel better despite his comforting words. “I guess I’m just worried about a lot of this.”

“You know whatever you need from me, I’m here, right? Say the word and I’ll do it,” he told her, his hands leaving her face and taking hers.

“I know,” she whispered, smiling softly at him.

“Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her. “We got this, okay?”

“I know, I just…” she stopped herself, unsure of how to express herself.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean frowned, sensing something wasn’t right. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him, smiling softly. “But… I just need to know you want all of this. I know you keep saying you want me to have the wedding I want, but I want us both to have that, Dean. I want what you want too.”

“Don’t go thinking I don’t want all of this. I wanna do this for you. For us.” he said, smiling reassuringly. “I do. I promise you, I do, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” She nodded, her worried expression morphing into a soft smile.

“Okay, good. Now, take a break from all this stuff and let’s make dinner. Sound good?” he asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling wide as she leaned in and kissed him.

As they got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to start cooking, Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as she felt a pressure lift off her. Dean always had a way of doing that. It was incredibly cute to see Dean so excited, even if he didn’t understand what she was saying when she mentioned something to do with the wedding, but he secretly loved getting involved.

They couldn’t wait to get to the big day and start the next part of their journey together.

The doorbell rang, alerting Y/N that her guests for the evening had arrived. It was a Saturday, and unfortunately Dean had to go into work because of some problem with one of the cars, so Y/N was left to do more of the wedding planning herself. Dean felt guilty as he left, but she had assured him that it was more than okay.

She walked to the door and opened it, smiling wide as she saw Mary and John on the other side. They all hugged each other, before Y/N led her into the house.

“So, how are things going?” Mary asked, as they walked into the kitchen where Y/N had been making dinner.

“Things are… stressful,” Y/N replied, huffing a small laugh. “Though I managed to book a venue yesterday, and that’s taken a lot of pressure off. I was going to tell Dean first, but do you guys wanna know?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mary exclaimed. “Yes, absolutely!”

Y/N opened her laptop that was kept to the side on the kitchen bench, bringing up the photos of the outdoor venue. “Dean was telling me once that you guys used to drive up here a lot when he and Sam were kids, and I thought I’d try it out. The land is owned by the ranch close by that’s a wedding venue and I asked if we could use this space. They said they had an opening for our date, so I booked it straight away.”

She showed them the photos of a beautiful location, surrounded by trees and a lake. It was perfect for the ceremony, and the clearing nearby would be perfect for the reception.

“Y/N, this is…” John shook his head, speechless as he looked over the photos. “God, the boys used to love going there.”

“Y/N, it’s stunning! Oh, it’s going to a beautiful wedding,” Mary told her, her smile radiant as put her arm around Y/N and brought her close.

“Do you think Dean will like it?” Y/N asked, nervously.

“He definitely will. We used to take the boys fishing there. They never caught a damn thing, but they always loved going,” John replied, reassuringly.

“Okay, good.” Y/N nodded as she closed her laptop. “Because we initially thought about having it here, we don’t have room for 80 people.”

“Well, this is perfect,” Mary said, smiling.

“It is. I can’t wait to show Dean,” Y/N smiled, before standing up and walking into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

“Anything I can help with?” Mary asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Nope, almost done,” Y/N replied, smiling over at her. “John, there’s beer in the fridge. Mary, wine?”

“I’ll take care of that,” John insisted, taking a beer out before finding the wine Mary liked on the small rack.

In the garage, Dean pulled the Impala up and cut the engine, turning off the car. He sighed tiredly as he leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. It had been a long day, and the last thing he had wanted was to go into work on a Saturday, but being the boss, he was needed. He hated that he couldn’t stay home and help Y/N out with whatever she needed and enjoy time with her, but at least he was back in time to have dinner with her and his parents.

Getting out of the Impala, he locked it and walked around the back of the car to the other side. He tried to slide past his work bench, but rammed right into it, cursing as the edge dug into him, sending a few tools flying to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

He blinked a few times, crouching down and picking up the screwdrivers that fell on the floor. As he did, something that had fallen behind the bench caught his eye. He reached behind it, taking out the notebook that had gotten stuck. Opening it, he flipped through the pages, seeing old calculations and notes of his, knowing that they weren't of use now. Suddenly, a page fell out, falling at his feet, with unfamiliar writing on it.

“What…” he mumbled to himself as he held it up, reading over the page properly.

His face fell as he read over the words that were no doubt written by Lisa, recognizing her handwriting now that he could see it properly. She must have used this from his office in their house when she couldn’t find anything else.

Stubborn. Too close to his family. Doesn’t earn enough. Just a mechanic.

It was a pros and cons list. She had made reasons for whether she should stay with him or not. The only thing written on the pros list was that he was a good father figure to Ben. However, the cons outweighed everything as he read over them again. He didn’t earn enough. His job wasn’t good enough. And if that was true then that meant he wasn’t good enough. He knew he shouldn’t care what it said considering he was with Y/N now, and they were engaged, with his relationship with Lisa practically ancient history by now. Yet he couldn’t stop reading over her words.

Crushing the paper into a ball and shoving into his pocket, he shut the notebook, tossing it in the paper basket kept next to the bench. He walked over to the door that led into the house, closing it behind him and walked down the hallway, hearing Y/N’s infectious laugh coming from the living room.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, seeing him enter the room.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to her, kissing her softly as he leaned down. He went over to his parents and hugged them before sitting down next to her.

“How was work?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Tiring,” he replied, huffing slightly, but offered her a smile. “But good. Glad to be home though.”

“Well, I was telling your parents, but I can tell you now,” she started, sharing a smile with John and Mary before she turned back to him. “I found a venue for the wedding.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly as he kissed her again.

Y/N frowned slightly as he pulled away, sensing something wasn’t right with him, but she let it go for now. She hoped that he was just tired from work and that was it.

“Do you want to hear about it?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, too quickly. “Actually, I’m gonna wash up and why don’t you tell me over dinner.”

“Sure,” she agreed, nodding. “Well, food’s ready. We were just waiting on you.”

“Okay,” he muttered, standing up and walking out of the room.

“Does he seem a little off to you?” John questioned, frowning as he looked between Mary and Y/N.

“Something must’ve happened at work,” Y/N sighed, worriedly.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s nothing too serious,” Mary added, her expression matching Y/N’s.

Dean returned after freshening up, just as Y/N, Mary and John walked over to the dining table. They all sat down, each of them taking turns to put food on their plate. They ate in silence, worried eyes glancing between each other and discreetly looking at Dean as he ate. Sensing they needed a distraction first, John and Mary exchanged looks, before she cleared her throat.

“So, we actually have something for both of you,” Mary announced, looking at John, giving him a firm nod.

The elder Winchester took out a small, folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and slid it across the wooden table to his son. Dean frowned curiously and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, as she looked over Dean’s shoulder. He opened it, both of their eyes widening as they saw what it was. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to speak.

“That’s from us, and after we spoke to your mom and dad, we decided to split things between us, so there’s should be coming to you soon,” Mary told Y/N, smiling.

“Mary…” Y/N trailed off, shaking her head as she was still in shock. “We can’t accept this cheque-”

“Guys, this is insane,” Dean finally said, frowning as he looked up at his parents.

“I thought you’d say that, but-” Mary started but Dean cut her off.

“We’re not taking it, mom,” he interrupted, his frustration getting the better of him.

“Dean,” Mary sighed, thinking about how to make him understand. “We’ve been sitting on this money since before you started renovating this place. We tried to hint then too, but you didn’t take it, wanting to do everything yourself. Had you never had this place we would’ve given it to you on your wedding day to put towards a house, just like we did with Sam and Eileen. Considering you have this place now, the least we can do is help with the wedding.”

“You’re really sure about this?” Y/N asked, completely unsure if this was a good idea. Clearly Dean wasn’t accepting this.

“Absolutely,” Mary replied, smiling. “And don’t even think about paying it back, it’s for both of you to use, however you want. Put it towards the wedding, if there’s anything left, put it towards the honeymoon, or savings… whatever you want.”

Dean shook his head, the frown still evident on his face. “So what? This is a pity offer?”

“No,” Mary gasped, eyes wide with shock. “Of course not, Dean. How could you think we would do that?”

He scoffed, turning to glare at Y/N. “I don’t make enough money, right? That’s what this is. You asked them for money.”

Y/N looked at him, unable to get over her shock at the way he was reacting. “What? No. No! Dean, how can you think that?”

Dean chuckled bitterly. He looked down at his food, suddenly losing his appetite. He quickly stood up, pushing up his sleeves as he pushed his chair out. Y/N felt her heart banging repeatedly against her ribcage, as she watched him get up.

“We’re not taking this. No fucking way,” he hissed, pushing the cheque back across the surface.

“Dean,” John’s voice bellowed around the room, staring up at his son with a stern expression.

“Dean, we just wanted to contribute, that’s all, honey,” Mary reasoned, trying to calm the situation. “If this is how you feel, then it’s put to bed. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

“Yeah, damn right that’s how I feel,” he snapped, as he turned to face her.

“I’m sor-” Mary started but he cut her off again, turning to Y/N.

“Do you think I can’t do this for us?” he asked, his voice eerily calm but the shakiness gave away how upset he was, as he faced Y/N.

Her eyes narrowed in upset as she stood up too, looking at him. “Of course I think you can do this, Dean. How could you even question that?”

“Because it’s exactly what it looks like, Y/N!” he yelled. He scoffed and shook his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. “What I do isn’t good enough. I’m not good enough.”

She visibly flinched; her eyes widened as she looked at him. She had never seen him this upset. She felt tears brim her bottom lids, threatening to fall. John and Mary watched on in horror, unable to understand what was going on with their son.

“What?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he muttered, looking away from her, his jaw clenching tight. “And if you haven’t already, you’ll realize it one day.”

“Dean,” she breathed, a tear rolling down her face as she saw how dejected he looked.

“That’s not true.”

“If you don’t want this anymore, Y/N, there were easier ways to tell me,” he spat, turning away from her and storming off.

“Dean, stop! What’s gotten into you?” she yelled, following behind him.

“I can’t fucking do this right now,” he scoffed.

Mary and John were hot on their heels too as they stopped in the entrance, watching Dean pick up his keys and make his way to the door.

“Dean, where are you going?” Y/N asked, choking as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I can’t be here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I need to think.”

“Think about what?” Her voice was cracking, the tears finally falling down her face. Everything was falling apart in the span of a few minutes, and she had no idea why. Why was he acting like this?

“I don’t know, Y/N, okay?” he snapped, turning to pin her with a scowl. “I just… I gotta get outta here.” Gesturing around him, he turned to open the door.

His mind was cloudy with all the doubts he was having at that moment. He needed a drink and some time to cool off. He walked through the threshold, not looking back at Y/N.

“Dean, wait-” she started but the door slamming as he left, cut her off.

Y/N felt knots in her stomach, tightening and moving into her chest. She tried to breathe normally but started to feel as if her throat was closing off, cutting off her air supply. Tears stung her eyes as they continued to flow down her face. She began hyperventilating, her hands cupping over her mouth as she began to cry. Her body shook with the force of her sobs. Her legs felt like jelly, like any minute she would collapse and wouldn’t be able to get up again.

“Oh, honey,” Mary whispered, as she wrapped her arms around Y/N tightly.

“I don’t… k-know what I did to-to make him think-” she stuttered, stopping as she sobbed.

“You didn’t do anything, sweetie. I just… There's something wrong. I didn’t think he would act like this. At most, he would be annoyed and then eventually give in. But this?” Mary tried to figure out what was going on, but shook her head as she couldn’t think of what could be wrong with her son.

“I’ll go talk to him,” John offered.

“No, he just needs space to process whatever’s going on in his head,” Y/N sniffled, pulling away from Mary as she looked between them. “You can head home if you want to. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” John stated, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and hugging her as she was between him and Mary. “Everything’s gonna be okay, don’t you worry.”

The silence made her mind wander off into irrational directions. Had she done something to make Dean this upset? Had she said anything to make him think he wasn’t good enough? She loved him so much, and she wanted nothing more than to be his wife, but if she had really made him feel that way, then she was the one who wasn’t good enough for him.

She managed to convince John and Mary that she was fine enough for them to leave, insisting they take some food home with them. They said their goodbyes, and Y/N headed upstairs, completely exhausted after the whirlwind evening. As she got changed in the walk-in closet, she felt more tears sting her eyes. They rolled down her face, but she didn’t make a move to wipe them away as she changed.

She just wanted Dean to come home so that they could talk and forget about what just happened.

Dean drove around town for a while, the words he said to Y/N plaguing his mind. He was just so angry after finding that list from Lisa, it just came out in the worst way possible. He reached the regular bar that he would go to with the guys, needing at least one drink to calm himself down.

Sitting down at the bar, he ordered a whiskey double, neat, and gulped the first one down in one shot. Asking for another, he nursed it as he thought about everything that had happened in the past half hour. His anger had dissolved quickly and had morphed into fear. Fear at what he would or wouldn’t find when he got home. As a Queen song played in the background from the jukebox, he quickly realized how much it was mirroring the situation they had found themselves in.

Love of my life, you’ve hurt me

You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know

What it means to me

He realized how he had overreacted, that his parents, just being the people that they are, would just give the cheque to them. He shouldn’t have taken his anger out on them and Y/N. Hell, she didn’t even know what he was upset about. That considered, he knew that he wasn’t good enough for her, especially now. Taking out his phone, he looked at the screen and saw a few missed calls from her and a few texts. Gulping the lump in his throat, he opened the messages and felt his heart sink into his stomach as he read over them. There were three, and as he read the words over again, he felt tears prick his eyes.

She had nothing to be sorry for. He was the asshole that let things blow out of proportion, all because he let one stupid note get to him. Determined to make it home and fix everything, Dean paid for his drink and left the bar.

He hoped like hell that he hadn’t ruined his whole future in one evening.

Dean entered through the door from the garage. Not a single light was on as he walked further in, seeing the kitchen, dining and living area completely dark. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the stairs and began the climb to the second floor, knowing he had to face whatever came next, even if he was fearing it so much that his stomach was in knots.

He walked towards their bedroom and stood at the threshold, his heart breaking at what he saw. Only one of the bedside lamps was on, providing the only light in the room. Y/N was lying on the bed, her back to the door, her knees drawn up as she laid in the foetal position, her shoulders shaking. She was sobbing quietly, the sounds low but somehow so loud in the quiet room. With every cry, a piece of his heart felt like it was shattering into smaller shards.

He moved slowly towards the bed, sitting down on the edge, watching as her head slowly turned. Her eyes were red and puffy, wet from the tears she had shed. She looked at him, sitting up slowly, their eyes meeting. Suddenly, she launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, crying into the crook of his neck. He felt tears prick his eyes, letting a few escape as he felt his sadness wash over him.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never should’ve said the things that I did, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please, just tell me.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her away and cupping her face, looking her deep in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”

“How could you ever doubt how I feel about you?” she asked, her voice croaky from how much she had cried. “How could you ever think you’re not good enough for me? What did I do to make you think that?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. I promise. This was… this was all me and my crap,” he said, shaking his head.

“What did I do to make you doubt me?” she cried, fresh tears making tracks down her face.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he reassured her, frantically moving towards her, grasping her shoulders. “You didn’t do anything, okay? This… this is the reason I overreacted.”

She frowned as he handed her the paper, but opened the folded page and read over the words written on there. She was confused, knowing she didn’t write this, her eyebrows lifting in realization as she read over the “pros” column.

“I’ll kill her,” she growled, looking up at him with a ferocity in her eyes. “I’ll… God, I wanna hurt her!”

Y/N stood up from the bed and paced the floor, her whole body shaking with how angry she was at that moment. She couldn’t believe that something like this could come between them, showing that Lisa still had a grip on Dean’s mind.

“She doesn’t get to do this to you anymore, Dean!” she yelled, holding up the piece of paper. “She doesn’t get to ruin our future!”

He scoffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “I nearly let her.”

“So, don’t,” Y/N said, walking up to him. She cupped his face in her hands, making him look up at her as he sat on the bed. “You are good enough for me. Every part of you. I love you for exactly who you are, and if I have to spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you that you’re my one, my everything, that there’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re so right for me, then I’ll do it.”

Wrapping her arms around him, his forehead rested against her chest as she laid her cheek on his head. She held him tightly, neither of them wanting to move away from the other.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his hands on her hips, feeling the material of his black t-shirt she was wearing against his skin. “I just saw that cheque, and I thought about that list, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you’re not,” she stated, kissing the top of his head. “You were upset.”

“That’s no excuse,” he whispered, hating himself for taking it out on her. “You didn’t deserve that. I uh… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to end this-”

“Dean, stop,” she choked out, pressing her forehead to his, combing her hand through his hair.

He shook his head, lifting it to look into her eyes. “I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about this even before finding that list. I’m always scared I’m gonna say or do something to give you a reason to leave me. If that happened… I know I wouldn’t survive it.”

Y/N frustratedly wiped her tears away, looking around the room for her sweats. Finding them, she roughly pulled them on and slipped on her sneakers, putting on a light shirt over the black t-shirt she was wearing. Dean watched her; confusion riddled his face as she moved around the room.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice wavering as his mind started to make up horrific scenarios.

“Come with me,” she said, firmly, a determined look on her face as she held her hand out.

“Where are we-” he started but she cut him off, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bed.

“Shut up,” she muttered, scowling as she dragged him behind her, down the stairs and out of the house, just as she picked up her keys from the table at the entrance.

Knowing he couldn’t argue when she looked so distressed, he followed behind her as they made their way to her car.

“Get in,” she demanded, harshly.

He was shaking, wondering what the hell had come over her suddenly but again did as he was told without saying anything that would possibly make her angrier than he already had. He couldn’t tell what he had done, but she was upset with him.

Dean looked on in silence as Y/N backed out and turned the car, the tires screeching as she sped off down the road. He gulped as she drove, his mind trying to talk itself out of thinking she was possibly going to kill him and dump his body somewhere. However, he also found her anger strangely arousing. They drove ten minutes before he recognized that she wasn’t going to do that, and that she had turned down a very familiar street. They drove past several houses before she stopped, pulling the car up to the curb and cutting the engine.

“Get out,” she ordered, leaving the keys in the ignition and opening the driver’s side door, slamming it shut as she stood on the road.

He got out, closing the passenger door and following behind her, looking around the dark street and quickly realizing they were standing in front of her previous rental house, just across from his and Lisa’s, all that time ago. She pulled at his jacket and he stumbled, straightening when she pulled him to stand in a specific spot next to the curb. She looked up at him, standing directly in front of him as the deep glare, her eyes riddled with sadness, was still on her face.

“Do you remember what happened here?” she asked, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

Frowning, he shook his head as he was unable to think straight, his mind clouded by the sudden change in her demeanour. “Y/N, I-”

“Do you remember what happened here, Dean?” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly as she raised it.

He sighed, glancing between the two houses, giving her a curt nod. “Of course I do.”

“Tell me,” she ordered, not breaking her eye contact with him, the scowl still present.

“It’s…” he cleared his throat, pushing down the lump in his throat as he looked at her. “It’s where I helped you with your stuff. It’s… it’s where we met.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her face as she nodded slowly. “And it’s also where my life changed forever. Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Y/N,” he breathed, trying to reach for her hand but she pulled away, making his heart sink. She had never done that. Never.

“Do you remember what was happening in that house?” she asked, the tears flowing freely down her face as she looked across the street.

He looked over, breathing heavily, his breath shaky as he exhaled but said nothing. He remembered all too well.

“You thought you were happy. You thought everything was fine… but you were losing yourself because of-” she choked, shaking her head, overwhelmed as she thought about those early days and her first impressions of his relationship with Lisa. “Because of her, and you didn’t even know it.”

He was silent, unable to say anything or even try to deny it, because he knew it was true. Turning his head to Y/N, he saw her looking up at him, the glare finally disappearing, her eyes holding a determined look despite the tears.

“And now, you could lose yourself because of her again if you don’t stop yourself from thinking that she's right,” she stated, stepping closer to him. “She was never right and she never will be. She didn’t know you like I do. She didn’t love you like I do. She’s gone from our lives… so don’t bring her back into it by going back into the shell she put you in.”

His jaw clenched as he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight as a tear slipped down his right cheek. Lifting her hand, she cupped his cheek and brushed it away with her thumb, stroking his jaw. She pushed up on her tiptoes, capturing his plump lips between hers, kissing him hard and desperately. She needed him to see there was nothing there to leave him over.

Pulling away from the kiss but keeping close, she looked at him as her thumbs stroked along his cheeks. “You’ll never give me a reason to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

“You got a lot of confidence in me, sweetheart,” he muttered, a slight scoff in his tone.

She smiled softly, knowing that if he couldn’t see it himself, she’d spend forever showing him he was worth more than he gave himself credit for.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I do.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Don’t be,” she whispered back, her eyes closing, content to be close to him again. “We’re going to be okay.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice laced with hope, as he lifted his head to look at her properly.

“I know so,” she replied, a soft smile on her face. “You’re not getting rid of me any time soon, Winchester.”

“You still wanna marry me after that?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” she said, simply as she pushed herself closer into him. “You can’t let something she thought affect you because it’s not true. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So… promise me, right now, that you’re going to let this go. All that matters is you and me.”

Looking deep into her eyes, he remembered everything they had been through together, and thought about all the amazing things they still had to experience. He wasn’t going to let someone from his past ruin his future.

“I promise,” he said, firmly.

She smiled up at him, moving in and capturing his lips, kissing him passionately. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So fucking much.”

“Let’s go home,” she whispered back, stroking her hand lightly over the back of his head. “I think I need to show you just how much I love you.”

He hummed against her lips, kissing her softly. “Yes, please.”

She laughed, biting her lip. “I scared you a little, didn’t I?”

“Well, when I didn’t think about how you could be plotting to kill me,” he joked, smirking as she chuckled, “it was kinda hot to see you pissed off.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she giggled. “You’re crazy.”

“Hey,” he called out, pulling her closer, his hands sliding down to her hips. “I can’t help the fact that it turned me on, sweetheart. It’s just the magic of you.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, pressing her lips together as she tried not to smile. “Let’s go before someone sees us out here.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the car, separating as they got in. He glanced back at the old house once more, feeling an enormous weight lift off him as he looked at the place that held a lot of pain before Y/N came along. That weight had resurfaced when he saw that list that Lisa had made, but as she always did, Y/N had been there to stop him from losing his way. She was the one who built him back up to the person that he used to be, the one who reignited his spirit. He had known early on how special she was, and she proved time and time again that she was there to stay.

And now, he was never going to lose sight of that. He let Lisa get into his head again, but for the final time, he was putting an end to that. He had someone by his side who wanted to be with him forever, and he was never going to forget that ever again.

Y/N sat at the dining table the next morning, her coffee in hand, all of her plans for the wedding spread out in front of her. She smiled as she sent a few texts out to the girls, asking them if they were available the next weekend to start looking for her wedding dress. As she was looking at photos, she flinched slightly, feeling Dean’s lips against her neck, moving down to her exposed shoulder, the sleeve of his t-shirt she was wearing having slipped down.

“Oh my god, Dean, don’t look!” she yelled, hiding her screen with her hands.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down beside her. “Babe, you haven’t even found a dress yet. I’m pretty sure it’s okay if I can see those.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to see in case I do find something like this,” she explained, smiling sheepishly. “I want to surprise you.”

He smiled as he leaned forward, kissing her softly. “You’re gonna knock me out no matter what dress you pick. Just sayin’.”

“Even if I look like a frosted cupcake?” she teased, giggling.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, his lips hovering close to hers. “‘Cause then you’ll look good enough to eat.”

“That’s so cheesy,” she snorted, laughing.

“You love it,” he grinned, chuckling along with her.

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him lightly but he had other plans, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her chair, onto his lap. She moaned softly against his lips as his fingers ran lightly over her bare thighs, the t-shirt riding up as she straddled him.

“So…” she pulled away from the kiss, reaching for the cheque on the table and showing it to him. “What do we want to do with this?”

“We use it,” he replied, nodding confidently as he smirked. “If there’s any left, we save it for the future, including anything your parents are sending.”

She beamed, brushing her knuckles against his cheek. “Sounds good.”

As they sat there together, having breakfast and coffee as they talked about the plans, Dean was leaving all the negative thoughts behind with the confidence that the woman sitting next to him wasn’t going anywhere. With the promises already made the previous night, he smiled as he thought about all the new ones he would make on the day she finally became his wife.

On the day the next chapter of their lives started.

A chapter he couldn’t wait to explore with Y/N by his side.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons​ // @winchest09​ // @downanddirtydean​ // @jensengirl83​ // @wonder-cole​ // @that-one-gay-girl​ // @whatareyousearchingfordean​ // @flamencodiva​ // @danneelsmain​ // @ellewritesfix05​ // @roonyxx​ // @akshi8278​ //@hobby27​ // @michellethetvaddict​ // @spngirl05​ // @kyjey​ // @440mxs-wife​ // @stoneyggirl​ // @stoneyggirl2​​ // @deanswaywardgirl​​ // @redbarn1995​​ // @marianita195​ // @babypink224221​​ // @deans-baby-momma​​ // @parinarain​​ // @thoughts-and-funnies​​ // @mandalou29​​ // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​​ // @supernatural-love14​​ // @vicmc624​​ // @prettyboyswow​​ // @lunarmoon8​​ // @irmcpar​​ // @compresshischest09​​ // @weepingwillowphoenix​​ // @xlynnbbyx​​ // @whiskey-infused-dreams​​ // @perpetualabsurdity​​ // @verytoadpapersoul​​ // @pink-sparkly-witch​​ //

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

[puppypeter]

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

[jae-canikeepyou]

| kismet | j.jh | part one

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 10k+ welps

summary: his parents sends him for a month long vacation to the country side to meet his other half, which so happens to be you. and alternatively, your beloveds asks of you to be in your best behaviour while he’s around. disliking how things turn out, you both come up with a pact with each other before your two families gathers together for christmas eve dinner.

genre: arranged marriage + bad 1st impressions

a/n: happy new year ✨ and you know what that means? *wink wink* new layout for my oneshots hihi! ok you guys this took soooooo long to write ;-; i wasn’t satisfied with the first draft so i had to reboot everything! and i mean everything!! :3 so i had this specific genre in mind for a long time and i’m glad that someone requested at the same time while i was in the progress of writing it~ i should’ve posted this on christmas day but i was spending time with my family :D hope you understand hihihi anyway i’ll stop this here so you can enjoy reading! ~j

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| part two | part three (final) |

jaehyun never reacted so quickly in his entire life, simultaneously spitting out the drink he consumed and eyes growing at the news his parents suddenly brought up. his neck ache at sudden twist. “what did you say?” he wiped the drips of coffee at the corners of his lips. his breathing intensified the more the silence passed.

mr. and mrs. jeong playfully sighed & exchanged looks as their son shouldn’t be this surprised regarding the topic. they have discussed about this when he turned eighteen. now twenty-three, he shouldn’t be so surprised or over-reactive about it either. 

“you heard your father,” mrs. jeong chewed her meal elegantly, yet giggles were still heard through closed lips. “you’re meeting her next week.”

he squinted with plenty of doubts filling his head, he was sure that there was still a year left. and to him that also meant he has exactly a year to convince his parents to call off the marriage he never asked for, let alone planned it. he still has a lot- correction, have yet to achieve in his mid-twenties and having a wife now would be slightly cutting his privacy short. 

in other words, the path to leisure he wished for after years of academics would divert to spending a life planned out for him. he had a diary and planner, and 

they were organised and well-thought out. but he had enough of his parents writing out his future for him, why couldn’t he write his own love story?

jaehyun was on his second last year of veterinary medicine, having some of the weight and pressure of academics lifted off his shoulders. of course he knew he still has to study, he just felt a little relaxed knowing that he would soon practice his dream career.

never had he expected that time flew and was going to meet his fiancé soon. 

his phone blinked with along with a message from his friends— mark and johnny. he briefly looked at the wallpaper of his long-time girlfriend of four years; she was the one who was on his mind. “nononono, i can’t get married now.” jaehyun’s panicking voice echoed the dining area, shoving the phone into his pockets.

mr. jeong raised a brow, placing his cup of coffee on the glass table. “relax, you’re not putting a ring on her finger yet.”

“‘yet’?!” the dimples on his face deepened as his cheeks bubbled. “mom, dad, i haven’t even met her!”

“hm? that’s why you’re spending the whole month at the countryside!” mrs. jeong exclaimed excitingly, and to jaehyun it seemed she was enjoying herself as if she were the one going there too.

“a month?! what am i going to do over there?!” 

“isn’t this great? we finally get to see you outdoors instead of a laptop and report papers! you need a break honey.” his mother clasped palms.

“ugh i can manage my time—”

“once you start working i’m pretty sure you won’t have the time to, jaehyun.”

since the love topic was brought up, his parents started to dig out their memories during their dating years. jaehyun groaned and massaged his temples, feeling uncomfortable with all the love stories he already heard or been told about. “did you forget that i have a girlfriend?” mumbling, he let out a deep, long sigh hoping they would hear him. and that failed miserably. his parents were in their own world. 

he shook his leg underneath the table and grew impatient with the duration of their conversation. “please, i’m begging you. i’ll get married in my own time and pace. sue and i are pretty much going to settle once we graduate-”

a certain ringtone perked his ears and his hands quickly pat his pockets to search his phone. he let out a sigh of relief, that his girlfriend psychologically read his mind and knew how much he wanted to get out of the dinner table, not to mention his parents’ overly attachment to one another. 

“sue you called! i was wondering if you want to hang out for a while.” his voice was high in spirits. but word has it when it reached its high, it would plummet to the ground shortly after. “hey, what’s wrong?” 

on the other line, just a call away from his girlfriend, was her held-in sob and whimper. “where are you right now? i’m coming to get you.”

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jaehyun’s limbs shook in anger and slammed his fists onto the stirring wheel so hard that this time he promised himself he would move on. last week, she didn’t just break up with him— that was a call for farewell, something kept well hidden from him and all this time he didn’t know she felt the way she did for the years they’ve spent together. 

for a minute he wished this was all a dream, that conscious world would wake his slumber mind. it wasn’t. the reality pretty much awoke him and kept him up all night. he blinked several times, her words still numbing his hearing, wishing it was a lie... but he heard her loud and clear that night. 

“...you’ll always have a place in my heart.. but i’m really sorry..”

he grew speechless though his heart had millions of questions. the windows of his lips sealed closed no matter how much he wanted them to be answered. opposite from where he was at, he stared at the porch of her house, waiting for a silhouette to appear before him. instead a luxurious car pulled over and an unfamiliar man took his coat off to wrap around sue. that action didn’t hurt jaehyun, but it was sue’s smile of comfort that triggered his pain more. seemed like she knew this man given that she let him into her house, like nothing heartbreaking happened before this. 

the door closed and jaehyun’s teary eyes never left her residence until loud slams of swinging car doors opened on both sides of the passenger’s seats. “tsk.” he hissed and quickly rubbed the tears meaning to fall. him being seen crying would really make him a target for his friends, for not moving on. couldn’t risk being the attention more than he already was.

“goodness mark it’s not like we’re on vacation that you have to pack almost everything,” johnny threw one of mark’s duffle bags at the boy, earning a so-what kind of look from him. “we’ll only bring jae to the y/l/n’s then leave afterwards—”

screw this, jaehyun thought. by now he shouldn’t look too swollen to his friends. but screw mark for renting and living across from his ex’s house. 

“save your explanation john.” jaehyun growled and started the engine, fastening his while seatbelt the two continued their bickers. more of it was mark’s shallowness that pissed johnny.

“yeah, save your explanation john- ow!” mark gave the tall lad a death-gazing glare at the pain that stayed on his skin.

johnny leaned forwards, tapping the dimpled boy on the shoulder. “dude, you changed your mind?”

jaehyun scoffed, resting his left arm onto the window’s edge as he drove. “mom said i should be accompanied. i didn’t want you both to come but she’s so insisting it’s getting into my nerves.” 

“actually mrs. jeong said you might need us after your sudden breakup,” mark pressed the button. the window rolled up and down whereas him and johnny exchanged looks to try to liven up the mood in the car. “what are friends for, hm?”

“o-oh yeah. you’ll need us.. as in.. ‘sue’pport.” he nodded with a fake sob. soon mark bursted out in giggles and joined the wagon. 

“‘cause you lost your ‘sue’weetheart.” “she’s making you ‘sue’per emotional.” “we were ‘sue’prised she dumped you.” “but as your brothers, we ‘sue’wear we’ll be here—”

“ugh! i don’t know why mom suggested you to come but your side comments really aren’t helping at all—” jaehyun rolled his eyes regretting instantly at the pain afterwards.

his friends found him hilarious. they were laughing so hard that jaehyun couldn’t continue or interrupt their exploding voices. “since when did you need help, mr. leave-me-alone?” johnny took a huge leap from his seat to be beside the offended boy. “for all i know you’re the type who wants everything perfect, in control and planned.”

“nah dude, right now..” mark zipped his bag. “he needs help with love issues.”

“this has nothing to do with my love! and for the record, about the y/f/n’s? it’s arranged!” he lowered his cap and slid back slightly against the seat while the car was on idle. “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“that can change dude,” johnny slurped on his giant soda takeaway. jaehyun battered his eyes but was careful enough to not leave his sight off of the road. “who knows this fiancé of yours could meet your expectations. maybe more than sue could ever do.”

jaehyun’s mind clouded and still had the effects from the breakup. still so fresh. he didn’t want to believe it in fact happened; that it was all true. he was sure sue was the one for him. hearing his pals say it word per word only had it finally sunk in— she dumped him.

it terrified him in ways he couldn’t imagine, haunted him countless of nights because he failed her. he even bragged to his parents that he would marry her and slip a ring on her finger. thinking about it, how stupid was he to hold onto that hope?

he looked like an idiot, felt like one and his friends probably viewed the same. they said his fiancé could outstand sue? she was the perfect package! what more could he get?

he had her.

honks of the vehicles behind led jaehyun’s eyes trailing to the stoplight that emitted green. he pulled over and johnny knew he had to take his place. 

“here, let me drive. you’re not fit for driving. now, just be comfy back there, okay?”

—

hours later violent jolts of the car hit jaehyun’s cheek, regaining consciousness from his slumber just to witness the beautiful sunrise peeking from the horizon. he sat up, his posture trying to straighten to denumb nerves that held long during his sleep.

his playlist blasted the speakers. johnny had his legs on the dashboard and hummed with the music. mark was still sleeping peacefully like he hadn’t had a care in the world other than his precious bag of unfinished chips in his hands. 

he groaned at the discomfort of pulled muscles and the sudden break to the countryside. if johnny needed an hour intervals for the drive he could’ve said so, right? but now they were at the open road, greenery and fields merging together in one land. 

“what time is it? where are we and are we there yet? i’ll drive if what you do delays the journey.” jaehyun gestured him to move aside. “johnny, stop eating.” it was quarter to two.

“wha-? i’m hungry. hey, you’re the one who didn’t want to come and yet you’re rushing to get to the y/l/n’s?” johnny unwrapped his second burrito. “besides, we’re only five minutes away—”

“tsk ‘cause i need to piss real bad.” jaehyun was fidgety and panned the view before setting eyes on his friend. 

johnny felt a churn in his stomach as his cheeks bubbled. “oh gross! i’m eating dude! if you’re gonna piss then do it outside?!”

jaehyun shoved the burrito into johnny’s mouth to not speak anymore. “rather hold it in than for you to puke in my car!” he held his strength while johnny fought his way to breathe properly. “i won’t piss outside and there are cattles who feed on fields!”

“bruh stop lecturing me with your vet knowledge- ah!” johnny held his forehead from the sudden finger flicking.

“dude, it’s called common sense. now move aside!” he shooed the tall boy off the driver’s seat. jaehyun stepped on the gas, heading towards a small town entrance.

they finally reached a couple of stores & restaurants, surveying and asking its townsmen using your family name to locate your residence. maybe they would know which apartment or house you resided in. except that was the twist of their understanding. 

jaehyun and his boys were shocked to know how your family name plastered in posters and brand products displayed at open stores, but were more shocked to see the gazes from the people. 

a little over an hour, they managed to get hold of more information as they were told your house was ten minutes away from the town. jaehyun walked along the pavement to grab something to drink, only to be poked by a young man who was around the same age as they were.  

“hi.” he greeted the unfamiliar man. “i take it you’re looking for the y/l/n’s?”

he took a squint as he observed jaehyun from head to toe, circling around him. “uh-huh, you look like m’lady’s husband-to-be in the pictures.”

“e-excuse me?” jaehyun cleared his throat, seemingly unwilling to have this conversation going.

mark held his laugh per usual, it would take time to get used to jaehyun stumbling his words. 

because the engaged man really wasn’t ready at all. 

“yeap he’s the guy.” johnny popped the ‘p’ with a lollipop in his mouth. jaehyun rolled his eyes, taking the candy stick and tossing it away. he didn’t care about johnny’s scoffs.

the new young lad wore his motorcycle helmet. “sweet.” he prolonged the word. and that was when both mark and johnny lost it. they recalled the pun they entertain themselves with prior to arriving here.

“oh, i work with the town’s famous family,” he showed his i.d. wrapped around his neck. “you can follow me since i’m heading there too.” the three quickly twitched at his quick paced movement. “i’m kunhang by the way, but i’d rather be called hendery. it’s my professional name, it just sounds cooler.”

jaehyun furrowed his brows at the praise. “okay hendery, uhm famous? they’re big time?” he pointed at the posters holding your family name. “how so?”

hendery swung his face shield downwards. “you’ll see.”

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gallops of horses were drumming the entire farm. dust and dirt swirled with the wind in the air and it took a while for the boys to adjust their sights at the distance. hendery dropped a couple of spare boots for them to wear. jaehyun was in awe. horses were majestic animals and though he got to study them, he never seen such a number of them on the fields.

“oh goodness me our guest is here!”

they turned around to voice of a jolly lady, an apron on and folded cuffs from her clothing. “hello there! welcome! you must be jaehyun! my soon to be son-in-law!” she shook his hands and later pulled him for a hug. “oh you look just like your mother!”

“hi mrs. y/l/n. y-yeah, i get that a lot these days,” jaehyun scratched his head. “thanks for having us.” 

her eyes trailed at mark and johnny, and they too, were pulled in for a hug. “i see jaehyun brought along his handsome friends with him! do enjoy your stay here with us!” she caught a glimpse of a figure approaching the crowd. “c’mere baby and meet the boys!”

jaehyun looked over his shoulder, lips parting and exhaled a short breath. she seemed young, she has a pretty face but obviously still in high school. what the? oh g- i’m marrying you?

“pfft no ew. i’m not getting married to you. i’m only 17.” she let out a chuckle, almost sarcastic enough for jaehyun to explode.

crap i said it unconsciously.

your mother lightly slapped her arm. “marg, where’s your sister?” she asked. “i told her to specifically come at the barn 1600.”

“she took jet for a ride. ‘detour’ she said, but i guess she’s on her way here.” she replied and mark choked on his water bottle. marg rolled her eyes. “green minded ass-”

“language marg!” hendery flicked her forehead, the latter held the pain. “the rudeness. sorry, kiddo here is the family’s baby. you’ll see the eldest daughter soon- oh! right on time m’lady!” he waved his hands up high.

jaehyun didn’t know what pissed him off more; one was at himself for being starstruck and in awe at you after his breakup, and two? 

the beautiful black horse you were riding on didn’t seem to be halting. it was trotting at first. you were on its saddle. he squinted his eyes, were you smirking? unbelievable. he thought you were doing this on purpose. no, you were really going to run him over. 

he noticed a change in speed, trotting then galloping on dirt. the sounds of it matched with the beatings of his rising heart. jaehyun took a step back, then it became more than one, until he was worried that he would end up being chased. there were couple of gasps and reminders of voices. he fell on his bum with palms hitting the ground as he breathed heavily, eyes still on you.

the horse listened to your rein, it let out a loud neigh with its front legs heavenwards. your laugh merged with it. “whoa- hey, easy jet, easy.” you cooed the animal, soon removing your helmet and hair flowed like those in shampoo commercials. “i think he got the message.”

jaehyun sat there dumbfounded, his brows drew together. what message? you were centimetres from killing him- wait. he saw you turn cold and your smile disappearing.

bingo! he got it. he knew the reason why you did this. 

you were against the arranged marriage too.

johnny leaned into mark’s ear, who had his hands cupping his lower face. “bro, jet’s a horse so stop giggling and clean your mind.” 

“dude i’m not laughing at that. just look at jae. i’ve never seen him so helpless.” he cackled a laugh. 

once your feet were on the ground, he finally got a better look on you. you were wearing a light wooled grey sweater with denim blue jeans. your hair now on one side and boots stained with dried mud. you took off your gloves to put your hand out for a handshake, one rested around your helmet. “hi, i’m y/n.” you greeted with a smile, ensuring it was fake enough for jaehyun to notice. 

“quite of an entrance.” jaehyun dusted his jeans and groaned at the exerted strength as he stood. “jeong jaehyun. veterinary medicine student..” he was about to grab your hand until you shoved yours into the pockets of your jeans. 

“y/n!” your mom exclaimed with warning. “your manners-” she clamped her lips when you put up a hand, eyes darting at her later at him.

“alright, okay. look mr. i didn’t ask for your field of study and i don’t need to know or do anything with you.”

jaehyun crossed his arms, a fake smile plastered on his face. what an attitude. “apparently you will? because i’m here for the next thirty days.”

“is that so?” you hummed and jaehyun didn’t like how you singsonged.

he knew something was coming and sometimes he thought it was best to keep quiet instead of letting his annoyance towards you spark up. “good, that means you’re helping me out with everything i do here.” he heard you say. “and do things i tell you to.”

“what?” his eyebrows snapped, and for you it was quite entertaining to see this reaction from him. following the trail of your footsteps, jaehyun stomped on wet soil as he stood before you. “hey you can’t just order me around like i’m your staff!”

“of course i can, you’re in my property-” you gestured the land.

“no, it belongs to your parents.” the tone of his voice irked you. he was grinning too.

“i can do whatever i want and choose whenever to help. i’ll only listen orders from mr. and mrs. y/l/n if they want me to do work..” he trailed off, your mother waving at him with admiration— typical as she saw him like an long lost son. “..but i guess not. my mom did say i needed a break from studying too much and she’s totally right. i must be pardoned from labour.”

it was your turn to cross arms and give him a lop-sided smile. the audacity of this man. you felt like ripping all your hair out. “you think staying here would prevent you from doing labour, your highness? sitting on your throne all dignified and at peace? well guess what, just because you’re a guest that doesn’t mean you get to be treated differently-”

you heard him bubble out a forced snicker. what was it this time? “of course it’s different! i am the guy you’re betrothed to-”

“i won’t allow it.” your jaw tightened with lips in a hard line. “a person like you is not worth my time and definitely not someone i’d want to marry.”

he pursed his lips. “wow do people ever tell you how bad of a host you are? you just don’t go shoving assumptions into people’s faces for your own entertainment. we’re humans.”

“i’m only rude to you. and yeah, people are humans. but you’re the devil’s incarnate.” you pulled jet’s reins and led him to the stables in which jaehyun observed how you gave that same smirk from earlier. “see if you’ll enjoy your stay here, hubby.” 

jaehyun clenched his fists and was sure little crescent moons already indented his palms. he only wanted sue to call him that. yet that was useless, they broke up. your face remained in his head and anger filled him up, now boiling so much that he felt a little lightheaded arguing with someone like you. 

he wanted to yell but johnny and mark sandwiched him between them with hendery walking in front. “tsk it’s only the first day and i want to go home.” he scrunched his nose. 

hendery had his palms behind his head, lips jutting to hold his grin. “m’lady—” he corrected himself. “y/n’s not usually like that. it’s a first seeing her so cranky and hotheaded.”

“really? how is she usually like?” mark asked with curiosity. “she seems cool because she smiled at johnny and me before the tables.. y’know, turned.” he shrugged with implications towards jaehyun.

“not cranky and not hotheaded.” hendery opened the door to your house, showing them to the large living area. “a lil’ different today but i tell you, our y/n is a professional equestrian. she’s passionate with what she does and—”

“a horse rider?! passionate?!” jaehyun hissed as he took off his shoes and brown coat, kicking it slightly to the side and hung it on the wall respectively. “she almost killed me!”

johnny hit the back of jaehyun’s head and clicked his tongue. “snap out of it jae, you’re overreacting. we’re at your future in-law’s residence and i think it’s a bad idea to badmouth their daughter.” 

only a low groan escaped out of jaehyun as he refused to listen. “look, first impressions don’t always hit off a good start. but thinking how you both don’t have a say to this arranged marriage, your feelings towards each other are totally understandable.”

jaehyun pressed the bridge of his nose as he took in his friend’s words. if what johnny said was true, was it right for him to begin holding grudge on you on the first day? you barely knew each other. clearly he knew you hated him, yet if his parents were here and saw the whole thing, they’d ask: why risk the chance of not trying? and again, he remembered he was told, people can change. 

—

throughout dinner, he got to know what your family business was and why it was well-known. he didn’t ask questions, they were just told to him like they were comfortable with it. they weren’t bragging either. perhaps it was due to the fact jaehyun would soon be part of this family that they told him the entire story. 

you didn’t show up during the hour and honestly it got jaehyun feeling so much relief since he wouldn’t have to deal with another useless argument. he disliked wasting time and preferred to do this schedule accordingly, so remembering it only made him rage inside. he was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with you tonight. 

except that relief was shortlived. you had to appear right when he thought of you.

great.

he tried to fix himself in his seat on the sofa by the fireplace, averting his gaze upon you while your mother continuously slapped you light on the arms. you probably finished your bath, given that you still have a towel wrapped around your head and a.. robe.

“y/n! have some courtesy! we have guests!” your mother warned as she gestured in front to cover you, apologising to the new boys. hendery immediately stepped in as well, his eyes shutting to a close and pushing you back to the bottom of the staircase. 

“but mom! i’m hungry and there might not have any cookies left if you keep giving it to them-” you were cut off with hendery’s pats.

he brushed his hair. sighing, he had to shoo you away because you were clearly attracting eyes, definitely not the decent kind. “i have a jar prepared for you m’lady so please.. get dressed!”

you quickly ran up as you were told, mumbling and complaining. jaehyun and his friends were definitely at a loss for words. because not only were you careless, you were oblivious too. 

mark scrunched his nose to start a conversation with jaehyun. “looks like she called you ‘hubby’ too quickly.” he closed his lips to contain his laugh. 

“pfft jae your ears really are honest huh?” johnny pointed at them as he held his chest, fistbumping mark for another win. 

he wasn’t going to tell them that he in fact did find you pretty, and the thing was, he shouldn’t be giving a reaction too soon. “it’s the spicy chocolate cookie!” jaehyun defended.

“huh, i didn’t bake any cookie with those flavour-” hendery pondered, but he stopped since he spotted jaehyun begging to help him here.

“you know that we know if you’re lying right?” the two squinted eyes, putting more pressure to the boy to admit what he felt when he saw you earlier. “bet ya felt something.”

afraid that your family could hear them, jaehyun grabbed their shoulders to huddle them in close. he cleared his throat to catch their attention, yet his friends continued their giggles. “i swear if you both embarrass me in front of the y/f/n’s, consider the days with your precious.. phones.”

“ah c’mon dude. don’t do that. we bought our i12’s together-” mark whined.

“then at least help me out here guys. i have a reputation to hold-” 

“oh for being her hubby?” johnny gave a playful grin and soon was replaced with a nervous smile. “okay i’ll zip it.”

he heard your mother facetiming his mom, voices loud enough for him to know that there would be a huge gathering at christmas eve dinner. great, another one i have to deal with.

jaehyun put down his beanie and crossed his arms to snooze for a bit. he had too much going on in his head the whole day that maybe sleeping it off would let him calm down from all feelings he felt tonight. on the sofa, the weight beside him lowered, the scent of freshly baked cookies along with lavender perfume got him peeking under his beanie. 

it was you, who looked like a squirrel happily munching away with your jar of cookies whilst eyes glued to the television.

he smiled a little to himself. so you can have this cute side-

fragments of sue’s face appeared in his mind. right. he was supposed to be heartbroken. he still was. a week into the breakup had remains to his heart. bothered with sue’s ultimatum and your annoying munches, he grabbed your wrists and out at the veranda.

it pissed him because it seemed like he was the only one who cared about both of your futures or actually would do something to change your families’ minds, where as you were carefree with your cookies. “hey!” you held the jar tight in your arms as you quickly slid your feet into your slippers. “rude! i’m eating!”

the rest of the people in the dining and kitchen area grew voices of woohoo’s, jaehyun’s pupils flared at their cheers. “just come with me for a second!” he hissed, turning the knob and closing the door.

“seriously jaehyun you can’t just ruin my happy time! what do you want-”

he looked in between the curtains from the outside, where he could faintly hear his friends talking the embarrassing things about him— especially how he felt for this arrange marriage. “aren’t you pressured or angry at the situation our parents have put us into?” he leaned against a column. “even my friends are joining the wagon.”

you cackled whilst scrolling your phone. “here i thought you only cared about animals, dr. jeong.” hearing how jaehyun scoffed at your comment, you shoved your device in your pockets. “and yes of course i’m mad! what they decided is so against my will.”

jaehyun stared at you and surprised that he actually felt exactly the same. “really? then let’s make a pact. sounds good?” he offered with arms folded while you still were occupied with your phone. “well?”

“why would i listen to you? as far as i know, we already clashed and hate each other.” you rolled your eyes. “what makes you think i’ll agree?”

he sighed. “y/n, i know you don’t want this, i don’t too. at least there’s something we have in common. i’m just thinking that we have to show them we’re not meant to be together. we both have lives we want to live without the other.”

there was a change in his voice. you could tell he was serious and trying to suggest something he’d want you to agree on. “fine, what’s the pact?” you gave an uninterested tone. probably a bad idea, you thought.

“like you said, ‘clash and hate each other’. we have exactly twenty four days to convince them that you, me, us?” he pointed at his chest then yours. “is impossible. twenty four days, it’s until the night of christmas eve.”

actually that’s not bad at all. “hm, that’s easy since i can’t stand you.” you said, now standing up to face him. “even better if we can do this in less than 24.”

“cool, we have to make our fights as natural as possible. no signals or heads-up. full-on make me angry and i’ll do the same. the more we argue the more they’ll believe there’ll never be an ‘us’.” his voice a bit lively than before. “i want my buds to be fooled into this too. just be realistic and- nghf!”

you shoved a huge cookie into his mouth. “tsk, you’re noisy. i get you so shut up. i agreed with the pact, but i have conditions, okay?”

jaehyun nodded as he chewed angrily with his eyes closed, though the cookies’ taste might’ve simmered down his temper towards you. “ha, then i have conditions too-”

“see you in the morning.” he heard you say as the door slammed with the attached bell ringing his ears. 

now that was one of his conditions; no interrupting while he talks. he sighed seeing you head up the stairs. he sighed. “ugh, i can never marry a girl like her.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

stretching as high as you can, the muscles loosened in every part of your body from riding yesterday. the sun shone its brightest despite the cold weather. you remembered the pact and you knew you would not let a day pass without bothering him. somehow his existence annoyed you to the bone, not even words were enough to explain how you felt. 

at the farthest point your peripheral could reach, you spotted jaehyun peacefully— and actually enjoying— the hammock whilst faintly you heard mark and johnny debating which pronunciation was the correct one. fixing your boots as you walked towards them, the two scurried off to the side, noticing the stomps of your feet getting closer. 

“get up.” you wriggled the hammock, causing it to be lop-sided. 

jaehyun managed to balance himself from the swings. “what the-” his voice hitched. “you’re ruining my relax time!”

you pretended to ponder as you looked up to the sky. “hm, sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?” referring to his sudden action towards you the night prior.

“seriously y/n what do you want? i’m in no mood to do work today and i clearly told you last night-” jaehyun fixed his eyes onto your finger that silenced his lips.

jaehyun raised a brow and rolled his eyes. what was your deal? he thought. “condition number one.” you started, bringing your voice down. “starting today you’ll do the work for me and with me. considering you’re taking veterinary science, i’m guessing you know your ways through equine husbandry. so in the coming days you can check the horses’ health while i practice my rounds.”

ah, so that’s what this was about. “uh-huh, but my condition number one is you shouldn’t make me do labour unless you really need it.” jaehyun got off the hammock, chugging his glass of water like it’s one-shot. “it’s the first light, y/n. my service starts in the afternoon.”

“i see. you’re not a morning person.” you checked your nails.

“i so am! but it’s my month long vacation. let me enjoy this before i experience exploitation from you.” he forced a smile that made you want to push him off the veranda.

you walked down the steps and straight to the barn opposite from your house. “it’s either exploitation today or exploitation for the whole month.” you singsonged while you twirled in your stance. hearing him growl meant your tactic worked. “i’ll let you experience the beauty of country side, city boy.”

jaehyun’s brows narrowed as he followed you anyway, later looking back at his friends who were stifling a laugh. “did you just compare me to feces first thing in the morning?”

“did you just boggle up my brain with scientific terms?” you hid a giggle when you heard his friends finally bursting out and losing it. because they too, experienced jaehyun’s sudden blabber of uncommon usage of words, especially conversational-wise. “i made a pun but it seems like you acknowledge the nickname.”

“i did not!” jaehyun pressed his temples. “i may have misheard you but i didn’t acknowledge it! you’re too assuming!”

“mhm sure.. but you are stepping on one though.” you whistled and gestured mark and johnny to the stables.

jaehyun grumbled as he checked the soles of his shoes. indeed he stepped on it and licked his lips in annoyance that it’d be hard to clean it off. the door opened and hendery’s morning face only turned sour at the unsightly view. he tossed another pair of spare boots for him to wear before they both headed to where you all were. 

hendery introduced the things they do here; feed the horses, fix their saddles  repair them if damaged. they were minor things since your family did hire people to do them. and since you and him were professionals in equine sports, he mentioned you both spend all days practicing. 

good, if it was you who toured him around the area, he wouldn’t think lasting a day with your intentions of ruining his mood. though it was part of the pact, it seemed like you enjoyed this a lot more than he expected. hendery brought him to places your family owned, land properties that expanded until the mountains. it’s no wonder you were free to roam around and unafraid of getting lost. 

you made him do a lot. and he was glad he was able to handle, thank heavens. however he didn’t feel much of a challenge from any of them, where you claimed they were ones he couldn’t do. jaehyun lost track of time, the sky was his only companion to tell the hours and probably lost count of the tasks too. all he could remember was the endless bickering, yells and frequent eye rolls. 

in all those, he still let you off the hook— first day of work and all, he has to be patient. and he wasn’t bothered with what you tasked him to do, until his friends stood behind you as you showed them the rest of the horses. 

after you told him to move the bundles of hay he thought was the last, you were currently trying to make mark pet the horses as they were bobbing their heads towards the young man while johnny recorded his reaction. 

“isn’t she all well now.” jaehyun rolled his eyes as he helped hendery lift the infinite bundles. “my friends get the leisure and i have to work?”

hendery laughed as he unbuttoned his collar. “she was told by her mom that you’ll be in her care since you both will get married eventually. plus mrs. y/f/n said it’s a way to get to know y/n too.” he explained, seeing you walk towards them with a hay cart, hands signalling your childhood friend to get some bundles from you. the final bundles were finally fed to the horses, and you skipped your feet to fetch jaehyun.

jaehyun knew you had intentions to make fun of him because the way you walked really pissed him off. so he decided to have his fun too. ”are you that weak you’re unable to carry a small patch? guess my hourly pay needs an increase.” he low-key flexed his muscles. truthfully speaking it was a sight to look at, too bad his attitude didn’t match it.

you rested on one leg while you look at him. he was testing the waters with you, smile slowly resurfacing as you gave even the slightest reaction towards him. oh it’s on. he annoyed you yesterday and would be a lot more in the next coming days. jaehyun leaned forwards that he was towering over you. his body made you feel small but that didn’t stop you from getting back at him.

“the only thing increasing for you is workload.” you hummed, putting back the cart into its place.

he glared at you as if you were dead meat. you ignored him. “i’ve had enough for today. muscles are sore.” hands in his pockets, jaehyun kicked the remains of hay off his shoes before he was stopped by you. “ugh you’re so annoying.” he clicked his tongue. 

“nope, you’re not done until i am. we have to find materials for christmas wreaths at my grandpa’s up north.” you pointed at the mountains as you took hendery’s hands and soon mounted on jet with him.

“oh and i’m supposed to walk there while you’re so relaxed miss bossy?” jaehyun shook his head in disbelief looking at the distance.

“uh yes?” you laughed to yourself. “i don’t think you’ve ever ridden a horse before, but if ever you did, it’s probably at a carnival.”

sudden outbursts of emotions evident on his face now. “was i born under a rock? of course i’ve ridden!” he took the reins given to him by hendery. “and it’s not a carousel!”

for a while he had a certain confidence, his soles stepping on the stirrup and dimples deepening with the strength he gave to put his right leg over. but once that was done and high up off the ground, his heart beat an army per second. cash, hendery’s horse gave loud neigh. jaehyun had done this before as a child and definitely felt like one now. he should be able to handle a 30-minute journey.

jaehyun heard you giggling, perhaps he knew how hideous he looked. despite hendery seated behind you, you led the way for the most part of the ride. you were surprised to see jaehyun have gotten the hang of it. it pissed you a lot because he was vlogging with his phone— sputtering out words to keep the diss battle going. johnny and mark hopped on the available bikes, cycling on your sides, and their laughter rather calmed you than annoy you. 

it pissed you a lot more because you’ve practically ran out of ideas to tell him in return. keeping quiet wasn’t your forte, you were a young woman with plenty of things to say, even more so to jaehyun. going through the woods, you signalled hendery to halt the horse for you and the rest of the boys followed you to gather the materials needed. 

“this shouldn’t be too long to take.” jaehyun looked at the trees towering meters above him, then straight to you who was shaking head in disbelief. “we’re just taking the materials at your grandfather’s and head back, right?”

“did i mention my granddad?” you balanced yourself on large wood log. the tone of your voice started to warm up with bickers you weren’t able to tell him. 

“you did!” jaehyun anticipated this and somehow he didn’t. “now lead the way to his place and we can get the hell out of here.” his eyes grew squints of disgust at his surroundings, as if he hadn’t been into the forest before. his friends went on ahead with hendery around the woods to look for what’s needed.

“nah, we’re picking acorns, pine cones, berries and other leaves by hand. his cottage is just around here but that doesn’t mean the materials are from him. let’s go, whiney.” 

“oh my g-” jaehyun pulled you on the arm and off you went towards him. “y/n i’ve had enough for today and i’m so tired of taking your orders- i’m physically tired of doing things your way and i can’t think straight-”

“pecans?” you said as his eyes crossed to see your palms full of the shelled nuts. “you’re hungry, aren’t you? that’s why you’re so cranky and agitate-y.” placing one but onto a flat rock, you smashed it strong enough for it to crack yet not totally destroying the inside. you popped one into your mouth and gave the most taunting grin jaehyun has seen from you all day. 

he was about to grab the rest of the nuts until you swung your arm that he wasn’t able to reach them. “y/n! give me some!” he yelled and the rest of your friends look at you both after hearing you laugh in the most evil manner.

“never!” you scurried off deeper into the woods. jaehyun rolled his eyes not at how fast you were, but due to how slow he actually was because of the amount of disgust he had.

he knew this would take all day and he didn’t know how long his patience can take for another three weeks with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jaehyun couldn’t describe in words with what he experienced since arriving. if he had to compare with school, it was similar to studying and cramming for hours non-stop. it gotten him mentally exhausted, physically too. but the only difference between being cooping up in his room and doing work outdoors was the continuous nagging from you. 

it was far from quiet. he could handle his mom’s high pitched yells. but you? anything that came from you or done by you made him want to plaster a duck tape on your lips. you were as annoying as a five year old child who looked for someone vulnerable to bully. unfortunately he became your prey because he was in your lands. and though there were times he was able to banter back, he always felt you still had the upper hand.

it was all sunny and good days out in the countryside and jaehyun found that fact the only bright side. he enjoyed it every single morning. yet sometimes good sunny mornings meets its bad, that is, when grey clouds destroyed the beauty of the sky. in this case, it was you. you were far from his dream girl— sue. she was elegant, poised and had a heart of gold. you were the complete opposite who’d rather be rogue and do things your way. other than completing ten christmas wreaths and feeding the horses or more farm work, he couldn’t remember what he did for the past eight days because all that entered his mind was the dictator you. 

but today he felt different, maybe things wouldn’t be as hard than last week. he felt good. he sat at the long dining table with all morning faces exposed. it was currently 7 a.m and your mom have already prepared breakfast. and per usual, you were the only one they waited for before they start the first meal. 

“marg, is your sister still asleep?” your mother put down a large casserole to warm up everyone’s stomach in winter. 

marg only shrugged because for one, she didn’t care, and two, she stated that it wouldn’t be her doing this since jaehyun was marrying you. “oh jaehyun. please do head upstairs to her room and awake y/n up.”

“and why do i have to do this?” jaehyun mumbled to himself and johnny nudged him on the arm. he groaned and got up, his stomps were heavy and unwilling. 

once he was in front of your door, he knocked twice loudly so he wouldn’t have to spend so much time to get you. there was a small tune playing in your room, like it was from a music box. the door was already opened. he peeped through the thin gap, seeing you still sleeping soundly. goodness’ sake, he thought, and entered the room since your mother was asking if he woken you up. 

your room was in fact, neat. all things were organised and arranged. if there was one thing he learned from you other than being an ass, was that you loved stuffed animals. not a hint of dolls or barbies or any toy displayed related to that spectrum. two lines of medals displayed and they all shone in gold. plaques had your names and young portraits of you with smiles of victory. hendery wasn’t lying when he said you were a professional. he wasn’t going to lie— you were impressive despite the little horns coming out of your head.

he stood next to your bed where you were all bundled in a huge blanket. he raised a brow, it was strange for you to have two thick blankets covering you. “hey y/n.”

no response. 

“y/n. wake up, your mom is calling for breakfast and you’re usually the first one seated at the table.” he wriggled your body with the butt of the umbrella and you didn’t budge.

“she baked croissants and aren’t they your favourite? dipped in chocolate ganache and sprinkles?” he tried sounding happy. note that, he tried.

this girl.. he bit the insides of his lips, spotting the markers in a cylinder container and took one to begin drawing on your face. his soft giggles filled your room and the strong scent of markers met your nostrils, waking you from your slumber. 

“what the he- jaehyun?!” you hissed at how close his face was to yours, failed to realising he was done drawing on your morning skin. “get away from me!”

everyone downstairs could hear the both of you, arguing like cats and dogs. each footstep might’ve covered the entire floor above them and the ceiling could give in. 

“you ruined my morning with your ugly face!” “what?! you’re more ugly, ugly!” “you entered my room?! you have no rights!” “breakfast’s ready and your mom asked me to!” “well my nose could’ve smelled mom’s food but i smelled your stinky breath instead!”

“whatever, i finished your share of croissants!” jaehyun quickly head down the staircase.

“you dare eat my food?!” you still had a blanket from head to toe as you followed him down. “no one takes my food!”

“your loss since you’re still in bed you lazy ass!” jaehyun sat beside johnny and continued his meal. “and you were snoring loud too-”

“i did not- agh!” you grumpily sat and immediately eyed the last croissant sitting at the center of the table. all eyes were on you with black ink scribbled on your face. 

there was an awkward silence then you felt jaehyun’s stare at the only food you wanted for breakfast. there was a back and forth battle of stares between you, him and the food. maybe it was the slow reflexes you have in mornings that jaehyun took the bread before you did. he stuck out a tongue as he deliciously ate half of it, chewing slowly just to let you imagine the flavours of sweet silky chocolate. you could feel yourself drooling and the cravings of your stomach rising up to your throat. every chew he did was a stab to your guilty-pleasure heart. 

jaehyun stopped and gave a smug grin. “you wanted this y/n?” his question sounding a song rather than an honest one. “all you have to do is beg.”

you gulped, rolling your eyes. “shut up!” you kicked his knee out of jealousy and savoured the soup instead. 

“ow!” he hissed through a laugh and looked at your mom. “mrs. y/f/n, i’d like to know the recipe for this. do you give lessons?” jaehyun licked the remains of chocolate around his lips, hopefully it was enough to cover up the violence you did under the table.

your mother giggled at his sweet talk. “why learn it from me when you have y/n to teach you?”

you choked on your soup and tear your gaze away from jaehyun to your mother, where she was already enjoying your shocked reaction. “oh give me a private lesson, bulldog terrier.” he propped his chin and mimicked clicks as if he was calling animal.

you quickly touched and rubbed your face to see the ink contaminate your fingers. the spoon reflected the dark circle around your right eye. “oh my g- you! this will be hard to remove!” the fork around your hand pointed directly at him. 

“y/n!” hendery put down your wrists as jaehyun laughed loud. you took the wet wipes marg gave you and whined a little whilst you stood by the mirror behind jaehyun.

“don’t be so bummed out honey.” your mom assured, giving a wink to jaehyun. “it’s a small prank. marg did it to you before.”

checking yourself for the last time at the mirror, you rolled your eyes. “i have enough patience for marg,” with one hand you cupped jaehyun’s lower face from the chin spreading to the cheeks, soon pinching hard on his dimples with a pointer finger and thumb. “but none for the human bread.”

“ow don’t touch me!” jaehyun swifted his head to look at you and he saw you flashed a smile like you were satisfied. 

“a human bread with molds. ew, i lost appetite so i’ll be out for a ride.” you stood up to grab your coat. “see ya ugly.”

“remember to you have to clean the barn house y/n!” your mom called out.

“yeah got that!”

johnny and mark bent their heads down and let their friends suffer from multiple dots on his faces. what made it funnier was that jaehyun munched happily on his meal, hadn’t gotten a single clue. he then eyed you when you passed the window and straight to the stables. “isn’t it too early for practice?” he drank his cup of hot chocolate. 

“she can ride all day. sometimes she doesn’t arrive home and the next morning you see her sleeping in the barn house.” marg tied her hair into a high bun. “the amount of dedication is there, except the passion she used to have isn’t really there anymore- hey!” she glared at hendery who gave her a warning look. 

what was that all about? jaehyun thought while his eyebrows met together and good thing it wasn’t obvious to your family. he was indeed curious, but he’d rather hear it from you than to look like a jerk who wanted to gossip about personal lives. the thing was, it’s you. though majority of the week was him suffering with workload, he liked to bicker with you until you gave up and had nothing to say. 

so far he recorded as 5-11 in terms of owning the other. the latter was his score and he was proud of it.

hendery’s phone vibrated and slid it to jaehyun’s place. jaehyun blinked to adjust his sight to the brightness of the phone. a sigh came out of his lips and the rest of them could tell it was another order from you. “ooh that doesn’t sound good.” mark slurped his soup. 

“it’s not.” jaehyun brushed his hair and hesitation slowly crept his body. “she asked me to clean the upper floor of the barn by the time she arrives.”

—

jaehyun massaged his wrists by twisting them. he looked at the barn house’ entrance because he noticed a figure approaching. you’ve had the best morning after jaehyun ruined it. as you rode, nothing beats the freshness of the cool wind. you love riding through the woods and grasslands. it sets you free from everything keeping you caged. your smile began to falter when you saw jaehyun who was not even halfway close to finishing. “you’re late. your mom had to apologise on your behalf because i’m doing the job for you.”

“ooh thanks! i’ll count on it!” you laid comfortably on a chair.

“hey!”

you leaned against the furniture, arms crossed where he was a floor above and standing at your 2 o’clock view. “dr. jeong it looks like you’re having a hard time. need help?” you stifled a laugh because he still has the ink marks you left on his face.

“on with the assumptions again, aren’t we?” he fixed his gloves and moved wooden planks from one place to another. 

“yeah you make yourself too easy of a target, jaehyun. and i thought you’re the type to not take things seriously.” you tied jet’s reins to a pole.

“you’re forgetting my condition number two, you can only badmouth me if the others are around. now get your flat butt up here and move the tool box aside so i can continue what i’m doing.” he grunted whilst lifting. 

dusting your pants, you were now standing a storey high. the sight of the height below you made you sick. jaehyun nudged your arm and you took the items blocking his way. you sighed and he noticed how fidgety you were. he put up a small smile. his entertainment from you didn’t end at the breakfast table. 

he scooted closer to you, pretending to bump into you with the pile of tall wooden planks in his arms. he heard you hiss, and that was the signal to begin. “oops didn’t see you there shorty.” there was a change in his voice, a more aggressive type of approach. 

“you’re doing that on purpose.” you checked the pained area of your forearm.

“what if i’m not? it could be an honest mistake.” he tilted his head away from the wood to see you.

a held-in soft disbelief laugh came out of your lips. “honesty doesn’t really blend in well with you.” 

jaehyun gasped with arched brows. “wow i’m very offended— you think this face..” he largely gestured himself. “would ever lie?”

“if you want to hear me saying you’re handsome.. it’s not happening.“ you took the rope to hang on a nail. 

“but you did say it.” he singsonged and you could push him off the loft but that could only happen in your head. 

“then that’s an honest mistake.” you flashed a forced smile at him. you carried the boxes stacked upon one another. “if you have a huge ego like that i bet you never dated. no girl would ever date you.” 

jaehyun fell silent, his mood to bash you suddenly changed. the shifts in his steps became heavier and as if he was putting his anger upon them. he didn’t like being reminded of sue, even if you unconsciously did so. “can’t you just keep quiet as you work? do you always have something to say? keep your damn mouth shut if you think all the fun you get is from belittling people.”

“okay sheesh sorry i didn’t know you have a heart for people too.” you removed your helmet to relieve the discomfort from it. 

as time passed— two hours to be exact, the more your guilt begin to seep in you. jaehyun never spoke after that. silence was like death at this point. not a hint of sniffs and sighs from him. did you go too far that he actually chose not to talk anymore? all you thought about was the pact he suggested. what now? anyone could appear any moment. 

this wasn’t like you at all. you hesitated to talk to him and to give the first move to bicker. you stood there staring at him piling boxes after boxes and sweeping the floor where dust accumulated like piles of sand. you bit your lips because screw this, you hated this atmosphere, you hated this silent treatment. “j-jaehyun?” you called out.

nothing. 

“hey-”

“hm? guilt eating you up now?” you froze at his voice as he chuckled. “it has, hasn’t it? look at your face!” he was laughing, his hands holding his ballooning stomach. “y/n you should’ve seen yourself!”

your gaze followed his hands that quickly took his phone placed at one corner. he was recording and your obliviousness blinded you. “oh you have no idea how much i wanted to laugh! my cheeks hurt so bad! hahaha!”

“you’re not using that to blackmail me!” you strided towards him.

he put his arm high as you struggled to reach it. “i might as well do that thanks for the idea!” faintly you heard his friends coming to check as to why their friend had the laughter of the century, only to find you both bickering again like this morning.

“delete that video jaehyun! i mean it!” “not until you agree to clean the loft!” “that’s like telling me to do everything!” “then that’s exactly what i’m telling you to do!”

johnny put up his phone to recording the struggling you and jaehyun enjoying his time to take advantage of his height. “dude i’ve never seen jaehyun this happy since sue broke up with him.”

“yeah his dimples are legit showing it’s scary me.” mark squinted at the two of you.

jaehyun swung his arms to avoid your attempted catches. he scrunched his nose and although that was undeniably cute, you couldn’t afford to feel humiliated for another two weeks. “jaehyun please delete it!”

“it’s not convincing enough you know?” “stop joking around we could fall!” you hissed. “fall?! then stop trying to get my phone!” “then put down your ridiculously long arm!” “yours are just too short!” “i swear— delete the footage!”

“you have to sound like you beg for it—” he cackled and with a few stretches you managed to reach his wrists as you lunged forwards. “oi stop!” that one last reach only made jaehyun lose his balance and fell backwards. 

and all you heard were yells of worry.

to say that you both gladly fell on soft pillows of hay was an understatement. at least that what it looked like to your friends. jaehyun was shocked, his arm felt numb. he took a good look at you and there you were laying on his arm with pale lips. “hey, you okay?” his hands were already out to help you. “y/n—”

“m’lady!” hendery rushed to you, causing jaehyun to flinch at the tone of his voice. he gently took your right arm, but you gritted your teeth and asked him to take the left. “painful?”

“not that serious.” you said, feeling the stares from jaehyun. “ew don’t look at me like that. i’m fine, really. let’s just call it a day.” you gave a small smile and he wasn’t buying it.

because jaehyun saw you clung onto hendery for dear life. 

[impala1967dwinchester]

Hello I just wanted to say ur amazing writer and I was wondering if I can request Winchester brother x sister reader where the reader is the youngest Winchester maybe around 16- 17 you can choose the fits but I was hoping u can do like where the reader is depressed and has ED (eating disorder ) and doesn’t tell the brothers and one day it gets worse and passed out the brothers are worried trying to help her out but it hard for her I hope this ok if not I can do different request it just I found comfort in angst topics with struggles I go through you know sorry if this doesn’t makes sense

It started years ago. To be exact it started when your father lost it, going mental on your oldest brother Dean. The three of you were thick as thieves and it physically hurt to see the complete and utter destruction your father left behind for Dean to clean up.

Living your life on the road was okay, you had two great older brothers that kept you up. Kept you in good spirits but it's hard when your whole world around you is crashing. You know it, your family knows but no one else.

How Dean and Sam ever dealt with the massive weight on their shoulders. It blew your mind. You. You weren't worth anything, especially not your mother burning on the ceiling. Your father resented you. You didn't need him to say it, because you could tell. Dean was his soldier, Sam was the disappointment, but the smartest out of the three of you. But you, you were the reason all four of you were in this mess. The reason why John was searching for that revenge every day.

Covering it up with the idea of saving people, but you were smart, so very smart. Sam had complimented you many times on your quickness, and sharpness when it came to the lore, but regarding your father, it was never the approval you were looking for.

Lots of things happened, to get you to the age of seventeen and drowning in the pit of your stomach all because you all no desire to be here anymore. You weren't helping your older brothers you were just in the way.

In the way of progress, a major setback to them. For them to prove to John that they would be like him, do like him. They'd have to leave you behind. It was for the best.

It started off as a way to conserve the little food the four of you had. At the ripe age of seven you learned quickly that offering your food to Sam was a better idea, or skipping off to lay in a shitty motel bed was better than eating. Yes your stomach would growl and the acid would burn, but anything to keep the weight of your brother off your shoulders.

As you grew up you learned that if you stayed at school as long as you could it was the best. Dean had just learned how to drive driving was his passion, reading was Sam. And yours... yours was to stay away, out of the way.

By the age of fifteen, you had your patterned packed down and tight. You leave with Sam since he drove you to school, and since he was a senior. You felt a wave of dizziness almost every morning. The night's dinner is still wrapped in its paper bag. Claiming to take it for lunch. Dean never argued with you. Kiss your forehead and hitting the pillow quicker than he hit on the girls that passed by the motel's door.

Your father was already starting to become absent. The shadow of what a perfect family no one ever talked about. You thrived in the school building though. Sam kissed your forehead his height greatly giving him the advantage before saying his goodbyes to you and running to meet with his senior friends.

You walked alone in the hallways. The bullying started almost immediately the second you stepped into the building. Near of my brothers were aware of the shit I went through on a daily basis. Years later they still weren't.

You had settled on never telling them about my dislike for eating, you hoped and prayed most night that they'd never find out. It was better without their acknowledgment of your weakness. Who knows they might be the same way everyone was at school.

The last year had been hard for you and your brothers, your father making less, and less of an effort with all three of you. Your relationship was already straining to stay alive, the burning and hurt in the bit of your stomach was something that was constant now, and from what you could tell it wasn't going to get any better.

Your brothers are now in their early 20's still taking care of their baby sister. Nights you guys sat down for dinner were odd, without John there. The quiet days where a now older Sam would drive you to school, along by yourself all day long. The teasing being relentless.

The whole idea, you were constantly dizzy, constantly on the verge of falling asleep no matter if you were in class, or at the crappy motel room with your brothers.

Tonight though, tonight your world fell apart as you walked in through the door, your final year of schooling was just starting your summer of staying inside and reading was over. The hot day of September had gotten to you more than you were willing to say. As you walked in through the motel door, the cool air hitting you in your face, and the hot air of the evening summer day kicking you in your ass.

It was too much, down you and your light bookbag went. Dean had been on one of the motels' beds when he heard you fall, Sam behind hadn't been able to catch you even with his long arms.

You don' remember much. You do remember hearing the sounds of your brothers frantically rushing around the room, one dropping his gun, and the other rushing over to your side.

"Dean what the hell just happened?" Sam asked in a frantically worried voice. "I don't know all I heard was the engine of Baby, and then her fall to the floor," Dean said rushing to your thin frame. Neither had noticed until now when they finally had time to pay attention to their baby sister that she was rather thinner than a normal seventeen-year-old.

Paler then normal, "Sam do you notice it?" Dean asked as Sam pulled the lightweight bookbag from your small shoulders. A small hum came from Sams's lips, maybe it was too much to say it. The words making truth when they leave his lips.

Sam picked you up feeling just how boney you were. "How did we let her get this bad Dean?" He questioned, Dean kept his head down grabbing her bag and following behind Sam to the bed's side.

When you woke up your two brothers were talking quietly in the tiny kitchen. Sam saw you try to get up their conversation stopped at a halt, and they both came over to help you.

Quiet overcame the room. Dean was the first to speak. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" He asked, you shrugged your shoulders, the ache in your body was strong, but not enough to make that your brother's problems.

"Y/n please be honest with us... Is this the first time something like this has happened?" Your brother Sam asked. Swallowing hard, before talking you answered Dean's question. "I feel fine guys really nothing to worry about." Answering Sams was going to be harder, you don't really remember the last time something like this happened, maybe last week in school, maybe a few years ago. "I don't remember Sam." That was all you said. Sad expression littered their coarse and worn faces.

"Y/n, how long have been like this?" Dean asked, furrowed brows as he asked the question. "Like what?" You replied. "Like how you don't eat at dinner and think we don't notice, how long Y/n? Just answer please." Dean said.

You tried opening your mouth, but the pressure of being truthful with your brothers was overbearing. Trying again and still, nothing slipped out. Sam ur interrupted your train of thought. "Since dad started on with his hunt for yellow eyes?" Simple questions always have a simple answer.

"If you want an honest answer I'd say seven or eight." You said, pushing yourself up from laying in the bed to sitting up against the headboard. The gasps for air were real between your two brothers. One hand came to rest on top of yours while the other paced around the motel room.

Your guess as to which was mad, and empathic wasn't hard for you. Dean pacing around the room meant he was angry, and Sam's empathic hand on top of yours meant he to wanted help. "Why didn't you tell us?" Dean questioned me, Sam turned to look at his older brother. "That won't help, we were talking remember. We need to help her, bot questions her about her actions or even her reason why." Sam said, Dean, calm down as he continued to pace.

Sam returned his attention to you. Hand still laying on top of yours, "Y/n why don't we, all the three of us help you yeah?" He said you laughed a little and Dean looked up from his pacing feet. "I don't think you guys could ever help me. I've been and felt this way for ten years now. This is just how I am now. Broken and worthless to this Winchester family." You said the strain of holding back was harder than you thought. Dean had paused his pacing staring at you and Sams's hand had engulfed yours.

Dean came over, putting his finger under your chin, grabbing your attention. "You listen here, to Sam and I. We care more about you than you'll ever know. We don't care what any person thinks, we don't care about Dad as much as we care about our little sister. Now believe me when we say that all we want to do is help you, helping you is what Sam and I are here for. Y/n you aren't alone, you aren't, worthless, and you most definitely aren't broken. We can help you all you have to do is let us in." Dean said sitting down next to you when he was down.

"We love you and don't wanna see so much potential be wasted especially when we knew we could have helped you," Sam added. You were having a hard time believing them, but nothing would stop you from trying especially when you had your brothers by your side.

[wincestation]

Wincest in the Pilot (aka my final paper)

2k of academic rambling. I got plenty of help and inspiration from this post and this blog review. Also huge thanks to @s2e11playthings for helping me find the latter. It is me! Essay-anon came out of the shadows!

The first interaction between the two brothers as adults occurs when Dean sneaks into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night. Sam fights the intruder before the latter pins him to the floor, making him realize it's his brother. The first words Dean tells him after not seeing him for two years are, "Easy, tiger." Dean's hand grabs Sam's neck and he smiles broadly at his little brother. As stated in the subsequent dialogue, the reason Dean appears this way is because he knows Sam would not have answered the phone if he had called. Why? the only reason Dean would call (which is also the reason he showed up) is that something happened to their father. Sam knows this, and maybe he didn't care if something really did happen to John. But what if John was the one who called? Maybe then Sam would answer, because he knows that this phone call has a different meaning: something happened to Dean.

Sam and Dean step outside to talk. Sam initially refuses to come with his brother, saying he is done with hunting, with the life that Dean and their father lead. Dean mocks Sam's aspiration for a normal life, perhaps as part of an attempt to persuade Sam to come with him, and return to the life they always shared together. After an argument between the two, involving emotional manipulations on both sides ("It wasn't easy, but it wasn't so bad", Dean dismisses Sam's words; "Do you think Mom would've wanted this for us?" Sam touches on a sensitive point), Dean understands that his brother is not about to give up, and finally reveals the real reason for his arrival:

Dean: I can't do this alone.

Sam: Yes, you can.

Dean: Well, I don't want to.

Dean completely contradicts everything he had said up to this point. In this sentence he expresses an emotional need for Sam, not a practical need. He could have sought out their father alone but chose not to; Maybe he saw the danger to his father's life as a good enough reason for Sam to come back to their lives again. Sam can not remain indifferent to this emotional vulnerability, and agrees to come with him - not because he cares what happens to their father, but because he too, like Dean, needs his brother and does not want to say goodbye to him again.

Sam agrees on one condition: he has an interview on Monday and he must get back on time. Dean agrees. Sam could have offered Dean to sleep on the couch and drive in the morning, or even go after the interview. But he does none of these things, and travels with him at that moment, in the middle of the night, without providing explanations to his girlfriend and without even kissing her goodbye. "At least tell me where you're going?" She calls after him as he leaves, with no answer. This urgency can be interpreted as a concern for the safety of Winchester Sr. but given the relationship between him and Sam, this is probably not the case. Why then is Sam in such a hurry to abandon the life he, allegedly, wants so much? In light of the dialogue between the two brothers the answer seems simple. He missed his brother, and now that he knows this feeling is mutual, he feels he has a good enough reason to leave the "normal" life behind - even if only for one weekend. This confirmation is the real reason he's arguing with his brother. The dialogue between them, according to this interpretation, is full of subtext:

Dean: I will not go until you come with me, or kick me out of your life forever.

Sam: If you want me to come, you need to tell me what I need to hear.

Dean: Don't make me say it out loud.

The two set out to find their father. After research, Sam and Dean discover that the monster of the week is a "woman in white" - a ghost that kills unfaithful men. Later in the episode, the ghost tries to attack Sam, who tells her she can't hurt him, because "I'm not unfaithful, I never was." She replies, "You will be." The hegemonic interpretation, presumably meant by the creators of the series, is that Sam is about to cheat on Jessica with the murderous ghost (with or without his consent). But Sam being targeted can be interpreted in another way. Is he going to betray his girlfriend by wanting to return to the life he shared with Dean and their father? Or even, can it be said that he did not betray her, but his brother, by leaving the family and trying to live a "normal" life with a woman?

The scene on the bridge, in which another confrontation takes place between Sam and Dean, can also be interpreted in two ways. Sam says, half in mockery and half in pity, "Mom is dead, and nothing will bring her back." Dean, in a fit of rage, grabs his brother and slams him at one of the bridge poles. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." This is of course one meaning of things. Another meaning could be, "Dean, I moved on, and nothing will bring me back." To this Dean responds in the only way he knows, "don't you dare not give up on me like that." Throughout the episode, and in this scene in particular, Dean repeatedly mocks Sam's choice to leave college - "Do you really think you're going to become a lawyer? Marry your girl?" - And this ridicule can stem from jealousy over the seemingly perfect and normal life that Sam managed to achieve, but at its core is another jealousy: Sam chose this life over a life with him.

The series hit screens in 2005. About two months after the premiere of the first episode, a blog review titled "Supermatural is Supergay" was published. The author described the series as follows:

It’s like the Hardy Boys, only gayer. I love the awkward sexual tension between the brothers. […] So Dean is the super control freak “top”. He has to be driving at all times. […] Sam rides in the passenger seat. He’s the soft spoken bottom boy, always staring out the window in this deep, dreamy state of mind. No idea what the hell he’s thinking about, but I suspect he is wondering where this relationship is going, and if Dean will ever say “I love you”.

Wait a minute… don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about incest here. See, that's the backstory. They are not really brothers. They are secret lovers, hiding their dirty affair. So they pretend to be brothers so nobody questions why they are together 24/7, why they share a bed. […] Throughout the episodes, they give each other hot glances. It’s never part of the dialogue, they just look like they will rip each other’s clothes off at any given moment. […]

UPDATE: On last Tuesday's episode, "Bugs", they were mistaken for a gay couple and then pretended to be a gay couple in the next scene. See, I told you they are gay guys pretending to be brothers. You heard it here first.

Although the writer was wrong in his assumption - Sam and Dean are indeed brothers - he makes a claim that will receive many reinforcements from the fans. There is a certain tension between the two characters, a codependence bordering on desperation that often later in the show will cause them to take extreme steps to keep each other safe. The brothers' love borders on obsession, which caused many fans to agree with the blogger's opinion - just a week after the first episode was aired, the first online community dedicated to the romantic relationship between the two brothers already opened (sn_slash, or Supernatural Slash, "for all your brotherly needs"). It is difficult to say whether the homoerotic clues came from the creators and were picked up by the audience, or whether the audience interpreted the show as he wished and the creators decided to satisfy their desires, but throughout the series there is recognition of the two's special relationship: In "Bugs" [1x08], everyone is convinced they are a couple and they continue the pretense; In later seasons, the brothers discover that books are being written about their lives, and that many fans of these books are convinced they are a couple (in "The Real Ghostbusters" [5x09] in the Supernatural convention, there is a panel called "The Homoerotic Undertones in Supernatural"); And many of the characters in the series, even those who know about the two being brothers, describe their relationship as one of codependence, blind and absolute love, for which they often sacrifice the entire world ("Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other", [5x19] "The point of no return").

Did the creators not understand that this is the message they are transmitting? It is hard to believe that they were unanimous on the subject, especially in light of all the reflexive references they themselves have planted in the show. If so, what could be their reason for engaging in a relationship that is fundamentally unnatural, perverse and forbidden, socially and often legally? This can be explained with the help of another issue - that of the exclusion of LGBTQ+ relationships from the public sphere and the lack of legitimacy for their visibility. Supernatural hit the screens in 2005, a time that may not seem so long ago, but its gay visibility is still lacking, and in which there was still no legitimacy to present a proud couple in popular culture. Maybe, as the blogger suggested in his review, the creators genuinely wanted to create a series that would center around love between two men, but felt that the world was not ready to see that content explicitly. After all, it was only a few decades ago that homosexuality was also perceived as unnatural, perverse and forbidden. Maybe acknowledging that, the creators chose to turn Sam and Dean into brothers, as if to reassure the conservatives: of course they are not just two men who are together at any given moment, staring at each other longingly and willing to sacrifice the whole world just so they won't be left without each other. That could be interpreted as homosexuality - and beyond the harsh criticism, such TV series simply wouldn't survive (or at least, that is how the creators may have felt at the time). And if some of the fans understood the true meaning in which the creators wanted engage, well, that was not in their hands.

To sum up, it is difficult to argue that this relationship is characterized as purely platonic. Even if the creators did not intend to create such an impression already in the first episode, they were aware of this impression and included explicit references to this unusual relationship. Although only an analysis of the first episode was conducted here, throughout the entire series there are unequivocal statements that support this assumption (some of which I mentioned above, but most of which have been omitted). And perhaps there is no need for many words beyond those uttered by the brothers themselves, for the first time in the pilot, and for the last time in the finale ("Carry on" [15x20]), before they said goodbye to each other for the last time: "I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

[collecting-stories]

One Sunset - c. 08 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Your birthday keeps getting closer.

A/N: Two more chapters to go! 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ Oh, my love, she waits, so long overdue ✰

The baby, Hope, the youngest, so far, of your sister’s six children, was propped on your hip. Clingy, she pressed her face against your collar, head tucked in your neck as you bounced just slightly from foot to foot. She‘s been crying when Esther handed her off, a passing comment that “there was something different about you” as she rejoined the conversation your older siblings were having. You carried Hope outside when the fussing started again, threatening to interrupt your father’s reading from the bible before dinner. She wasn’t the youngest of all the babies there, Jubilee’s son took that honor, being just three months, but Hope was the most restless.  

“You used to be like that,” your mother teased, coming out to bring you a bottle for Hope as she squirmed in your lap. You’d settled with sitting under the tree in the yard, letting your niece tear through the grass.  

“Destructive?” You asked, looking up through the sunlight to her.  

Ever since JJ had mentioned the possibility of leaving you had been thinking about what it would look like when you were gone. Knowing what was in store if you stayed, you had given leaving your mom and dad a lot of thought anyway. It would be just them in the house, plenty of grandchildren to take care of but just the two of them at night when everyone else went home. You would miss it, but it was these moments, so rare now that you were the last left in the house, that you would miss most of all.  

“Restless, unsatisfied.” The adjective stung when she said it, as if she resented the trait even in a baby. “The minute you were steady on your feet, you used to take off.”  

“Maybe I was just curious about everything around me?” You suggested, that bizarre fear that she knew something settling in your stomach. It was the same queasy feeling you used to get when you were little and you would lie, certain your mother would know.  

She nodded, though it was not in agreement, “and what does the bible say about that?”

“And he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power.” You replied, all too familiar with the warning verse that your mother had kept taped to your bedroom mirror as a child, a reminder that your curiosity was as much a sin as anything else.  

“That’s right, we don’t need to concern ourselves with other, worldly things.” She replied.  

“I don’t think Hope is concerned with anything other than appreciating God’s creation,” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, as you looked down at Hope sill pulling at the grass and then staring in wonder at her dirty hands.  

“I’m not talking about Hope, I found a…very revealing outfit tucked under your bed along with a sweatshirt I’ve never seen in the house before.” She said, playing her cards. She did know something she wasn’t letting on, just as you had suspected. It was better than you thought, something you could play off easily.  

“They’re Kiara’s. She wore the dress on Sunday and I told her it was too revealing for church so she came in and changed. And the sweatshirt is her…boyfriend’s, she had it with her.” You lied. The dress was the one that JJ bought for you. For almost three weeks, since he’d first suggested it, you had been packing and unpacking a duffel bag, certain that you wanted to go but then unsure at the same time.  

Your mother’s observation of you was probably right, you were restless. They had raised you the same way they raised your siblings and yet, nothing about the church seemed to comfort you. It made you discontent just exist in the space sometimes but you had always assumed it was because of some deep fault of your own. Some sin you weren’t consciously aware of that ensnared you. Restlessness would follow you forever, it felt like. But then you’d never felt restless with JJ or Kiara or Pope. You never felt like you were trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for you.  

“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” The tone was back, the disapproving one that silently conveyed the underlying meaning of her sentence. If your mom had known, she would not have let her hang around.  

“He’s very religious too. I think he goes to a non-denominational church,” you lied, pulling Hope’s dirty hands away from the hem of your dress.  

You had come outside with Hope because you wanted to be alone. Her crying was the perfect excuse to separate yourself from the rest of your family but then your mom had followed you out here, determined, it felt like, to deny you any moment alone.

“Your good with the kids,” she ventured, “It’ll only be a couple of years before you’re having little ones of your own.”  

“That’s what Esther said when she handed me Hope.” You replied lifting the baby with you as you stood up. There was no point in trying to hold onto your attempts at relaxation. Babies had been all your mother wanted to talk about since Timothy’s visit to the house. She couldn’t stop herself from mentioning your future imaginary family. “How did you and dad know you wanted to have kids?”

“We prayed and fasted and the Lord answered us by giving us Faith and I knew then that he was telling me to leave my womb in his hands.” She replied as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the response, “How many kids you have is something you’ll have to talk about with Timothy but God will guide you.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shifted Hope in your arms as she babbled, her dirty hands gripping your cardigan.  

Maybe JJ lying to you should have been the push that you needed to embrace this idea of Timothy and Zambia and the twelve children he was probably going to expect you to have. It should’ve put you back on the path of the Lord, that “most righteous” path, as your father called it during Sunday service. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just close off the part of you that loved JJ so much that you considered running away with him. He had lied but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that all of it was a lie. There were parts of it, you were certain, that had to be true. You had been thinking about him since you left John B’s.  

“What if...” you chanced, beginning to walk back to the house with your mom, “what if Timothy isn’t who I’m meant to be with?”

“Why do you say that?” Your mom asked, stopping. She didn’t look surprised or even bothered by what you thought sounded like your usual restlessness.  

“I just think...what if I’m not a good enough wife?”

“You have to pray, and have faith in the Lord and in your husband that they will guide you down that path and help you to learn how to serve your household.” She answered.  

Hope started fussing again and your mom took her from you, proclaiming that it was most likely time for a feeding and heading back inside with her. She called over her shoulder for you to check the church, the light in the nave was on. You wanted to thank her for the moment alone but then she might’ve stuck around and questioned you further.

You walked to the church, pulling the old wooden door open and heading inside to turn off the lights in the vestibule. Your father was known to forget and leave them on and you were sure that your mother thought sending you was some subtle way of telling you that you needed to reconnect with Jesus through prayer. You weren’t so sure that was what you needed but you would take the moment alone that you had been trying to get the first time you went outside.  

Before you could hit the light switch you noticed the familiar army green backpack leaning against one of the back pews. You hadn’t seen JJ since you left John B’s house but that was his backpack, sitting in the middle aisle. There wasn’t any reason for JJ’s bag to be in the church but you walked toward it anyway, curious as to its existence in that space at that moment.  

The bag, you quickly discovered, was not without its owner. JJ laid there on the bench, asleep, from what you could tell, his lip split and a horrifying bruise under his left eye. You knelt down by the edge of the pew, brushing his hair away from his face so you could see him better. Just the sight of him had your heart pounding.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you whispered, laying your hand on his arm. “JJ.”

He groaned, shifting on the pew before opening his eyes slowly, a smile gracing his features as he saw you there in front of him, the cut on his lip bleeding slightly at the motion. “Hey Ace.”

“JJ, what happened?” You asked, moving to sit next to him as he sat up. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive with him, considering what John B had told you, but all you could think about was the bruising on his face. You’d seen less noticeable bruising before that JJ had always brushed off and maybe it was unrelated but your mind was drawing connections as you looked him over, noting the large purplish mark peeking out from the arm of the cut-off shirt he was wearing.  

“Nothing,” he swore, shaking his head and shifting away from you slightly. “I’m sorry, I just needed to crash for a few hours.”  

When you reached for him again and he moved back, you felt an ache. He looked battered and you didn’t care about what sort of bet he made, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that for the last few days you had been thinking about him. “JJ, please, tell me what happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours before he could stop you.  

“I fucked up everything.” He replied, leaning back against the pew and closing his eyes. “I didn’t...I should’ve told you about-”

-

Despite Pope’s attempts to reason with him, to remind him that the last person on earth you probably wanted to see was him, JJ couldn’t stop himself from moving forward with his original plan. He had offered you a way out and, whether you wanted it with him or at all, he was going to come through on that promise. He loved you and maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to Tennessee.  

JJ almost never went home but he did a few nights after you had run off, after Kiara told him that you’d come to see her, he went back home again to get the keys for his dad’s boat. Luke always kept the keys on him and JJ hadn’t actually been on the boat since he was a little kid. The first time he had smoked weed when he was twelve and his cousin took him on the Phantom for a joy ride down the coast to buy some specially cut stuff from a friend of a friend. He had let JJ smoke it on the way home and the probably broken rib that he’d suffered the week before suddenly didn’t hurt half as bad.  

He wasn’t stealing the keys for a joyride this time though. He was stealing keys to get you as far away from the Outer Banks as he could. Pope had reasoned that you hadn’t really ever made up your mind and that by now you had probably definitely decided not to go off with some guy on a whim, but JJ had to believe you were still leaning toward going with him.  

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” Luke chided, sitting at his work bench. If there was anything that JJ knew about his father, it was that Luke could sit in front of his work table all day and nothing would ever actually get done.  

“I’m only here to grab some stuff.”  

If he said nothing, it caused an issue. If he said something, it caused an issue. JJ had spent enough years in his father’s home to know that it didn’t matter what he did, if Luke was in a mood then there was nothing, he could do to avoid it. And usually, he would just make his visit a short one but he needed that key and that key was hanging off his dad’s neck.  

It took Luke a couple beers and a trip down to Barry’s trailer before he confronted JJ’s return home with more than a snide remark. It started off with shouting about the electric bill when he tried to hit the light switch in the living room and realized that the darkness was unescapable. And that, of course, like all the other bad things that existed in his life, was JJ’s fault.  

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to do something before you actually do it?” He screamed, a string of insults following that would stay trapped in JJ’s head for what would arguably be the rest of his life. The rage was just what JJ needed though, his dad was erratic, distracted, and close enough that when he shoved JJ against the wall and tried to choke him, the key was in reach.  

He had the key and when he finally got his dad off him, he ran for the door, grabbing his bag and running through the woods. Still not talking to John B, he knew there weren’t too many places for him to go. He stayed on the beach for a while but then moved on, heading to the one place he knew he wasn’t technically welcome. JJ had seen your family’s cars in the yard and had ducked into the church, falling asleep on one of the pews.  

It wasn’t like you could’ve contacted him, you had no phone and you couldn’t exactly get away easily during the day and maybe that was what made it so easy for him to convince himself that he wasn’t beyond forgiveness. He needed to talk to you, had wanted to for days now. He needed to explain things to you, make you understand that he did love you and the bet was stupid, a mistake that he wanted to take back more than anything in the world.  

-

“JJ, I don’t care about any of that right now,” you said, brushing hair away from his face. “What happened?”

He sat up a little, pulling the makeshift necklace out beneath his shirt, the keys to the Phantom hanging there around his neck. “I got the keys.” He replied, “I don’t know if you even would still want to go, but I got the keys.”  

“Is that how this happened?” You asked, eyes still on his bruised face and not the keys he was holding up.  

“It doesn’t matter-”

You cut him off, “it does matter, JJ-”

“No.” He insisted, “no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to base anything on feeling bad for me.” JJ had spent his whole life trying to make sure that nobody felt bad for him. Sympathy, charity, pity, it was all just fake and he hated it. He did everything he could to be sure that no one ever knew what kind of father Luke was because he never wanted them to look at him like he was broken.  

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You admitted, kissing his cheek.  

JJ didn’t protest the affection, though he wanted to laugh. Here he was with you worrying about him, telling him that you didn’t want to see him hurt while he had hurt you. For days he felt like he had been plagued by that moment, replaying the way you looked at him when you asked him if John B was telling the truth. Kiara told him to give you space and Pope told him to take things slowly but all he wanted was to be with you again, to make everything right.  

“You shouldn’t even want to talk to me right now.” He said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  

“My propensity for forgiveness might surprise you.” You teased, then shrugged, “I don’t think that you lied to me about...about being in love with me,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you spoke, “I mean, I hope not-”

“I wasn’t.” JJ replied. “If Sarah hadn’t bet me to ask you out, I wouldn’t have, but everything else was real. I know I should’ve told you...I just, didn’t want you to look at me the way you did after John B told you. Everyone else already looks at me that way, I didn’t want you to. I’m so sorry.” It seemed like the only logical thing to say to you.  

The door to the chapel creaked open and JJ slid down to the floor as you stood up, moving down the aisle to keep whoever it was out of the church. Your dad stood there at the entrance, holding the door open with his foot as he caught sight of you. “There you are, your mom sent me out to find you, she said she asked you to turn the lights out here.”

“I was,” you replied, moving closer to him, “I just, stopped for a moment to sit in prayer.” An easy lie, one your parents were always all too willing to believe.  

He nodded, “do you need another moment? Some fellowship?”  

“No, no, I’m okay.” You promised. “I’ll be right there.”

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped back out of the church. You knew he’d be just on the other side of the door, waiting for you to turn off the lights and follow him in for dinner. Knowing the limited amount of time you had, you ran back down the aisle to where JJ was just standing up.  

JJ’s eyes went wide as you grabbed his collar and quickly pulled him into a kiss, “I have dinner with my family, come to my room tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah okay.”

As you left him you flicked the lights casting him in darkness as he dropped back down onto the bench, a small smile etched on his face. He’d come to the church because he needed to be close to you, especially after his encounter with Luke. But JJ had honestly thought that things between you were irreparable. Knowing they weren’t felt better than he could’ve imagined. Like he was floating above clouds. Stupid to think maybe but he didn’t care.  

-

JJ’s muscles tensed as you traced your fingers beneath a nasty purple bruise that stretched across his stomach to his side. You leaned over him, hovering like a ghost in the stillness, and placed a kiss just over the discolored skin, eliciting goosebumps over his skin.  

He stayed camped out in the chapel until the lights went off in the house and your family left for the night. There were too many smaller units these days to accommodate everyone when they came home to visit but your father was friends with a local motel owner who always gave him a good deal. JJ had tried to stay alert and awake but he’d fallen asleep, getting up later when the lights were off and sneaking across the yard to your window, knocking and hoping that you answered. That you meant it when you said you still believed he loved you.  

Your parents were asleep down the hall from your room and he knew that trying anything would be risky and dangerous but being back in your room again since the last time, since he’d slept with you, it was almost as if a switch went off for both of you. He climbed through the window and was already grabbing at your waist, pulling you into a kiss as you led him to your bed.  

He breathed out apologies and “I love you’s” between kisses, making sure that he took every opportunity to remind you both how sorry he was and how much he had missed being close to you in the few days apart. JJ had tried to tell himself that if you chose to stay with your family, he would be okay and understanding and he would force himself to be but he knew that he was lying to himself, if things ended between the two of you, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. Maybe that was unhealthy but he really didn’t care at all.  

“I was thinking, we could go to Florida,” you said, keeping your voice down as you sat on the bed, JJ’s shirt keeping you warm. He was laying on his back, covers pushed down to his waist, one hand behind his head and the other resting on your thigh.  

“Why Florida?” He asked.  

In all honesty it wasn’t that Florida was anything particularly special it was just that you were trying your hardest to think of anything to say so you didn’t start crying. When you’d seen him in the church earlier you had almost lost it and that was with only his face visible. The bruising on his stomach and sides made you feel ill. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to go to South Beach.”  

JJ grinned, hand squeezing your thigh, “you on a topless beach? Yes, please.”

“How about I conquer a two piece before I attempt going topless?” You joked, taking his hand in yours.  

“I don’t know, you look pretty hot...” he said, moving his other hand from behind his head and grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up passed your chest. You swatted his hand away, stifling a laugh. The sound of it made him smile though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, that flicker of sadness still there behind them. There was nothing he wanted more than being here with you but he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt that settled in.  

“What’s the matter?” You asked, registering the change in his demeanor before he was even fully aware of it himself.  

“Nothing, I-” he sighed, shifting around to sit up in bed, “I should have told you. About the bet, about my dad. I just...I know, under the surface, I’m not the most likable person. I’m loud and I smoke too much and I drink too much and I’m not that smart and I just...really wanted you to like me. So I didn’t say anything. And I know that’s not an excuse-”

“JJ,” you cut him off, “I was mad that you lied and didn’t tell me about the bet but that doesn’t change the way that I feel about you. And it doesn’t change the way I know you feel about me.” It was hard to explain, it had been hard to explain to Kiara when you had shown up crying at her house, but you didn’t think that JJ was lying to you about the whole of your relationship. He said he loved you and you believed him, there wasn’t a single moment that felt unreal to you in that sense, whether he had asked you out because of a bet or not. “You said you only asked me out because of the bet but everything else was real and I believe you.”

“I don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”  

“Stop trying to sell yourself short.” You replied, leaning forward to kiss him, “it won’t work.”

Before he could answer you, the floor creaked and the you both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded down the hall. The light by your desk was still on and the footsteps came to a stop outside your bedroom door, a knock sounding, followed by your dad’s voice. “Ace, you awake in there?”  

You pulled JJ’s shirt off, grabbing your nightdress and putting it on as you got off the bed and went over to the door. “Yeah, hold on!” You were thankful that the door opened in, obscuring the twin bed from view. “Sorry, I was having trouble sleeping so I was just up reading some verses.” You lied.  

“Hmm,” your dad nodded, easily convinced, “what were you reading?”

“1st Peter, 4...uh, ‘and above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Just felt like something I really needed tonight.” You replied.  

“That is a good one,” he contemplated, “I told your mom I’ve been a little stuck on the sermon for this coming weekend...it’s a big one, with Timothy’s family visiting and your birthday. But maybe I’ll put some focus on that verse, see if the Lord speaks to me about it.”  

“I’ll pray on it as well,” you promised, twisting the doorknob in your hand as you waited for your father to decide to head back to bed.  

“I’m just grabbing some water, do you need anything?” He asked, looking toward the kitchen.  

“No, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a hug, “love you, see you in the morning.”

“Love you too Ace,” he said, leaving you and heading to the kitchen.  

You shut the door to your room, blocking out the rest of the world again and nearly jumping when you turned and found JJ standing right there beside you. “My dad could’ve seen you,” you whispered, pushing him away when he tried to wrap his arms around you.  

“He didn’t.” JJ replied, voice low. His hand darted out from his side, grabbing the front of your nightdress before you could get away, using the leverage it gave him to pull you back to the bed. He flicked the light off on your desk lamp on the way to the bed, sitting when the back of his knees hit the mattress.  

“What are you doing?” you asked when he started to pull the nightdress over your head again.  

“Undressing you.”  

“JJ,” you fought a smile, biting your bottom lip, “you need to go...that was way too close.”  

He pouted in the dark, letting your nightdress fall back into place as he laid his hands on your hips. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can walk to Heyward’s in the afternoon?” You offered. “Timothy and his family will be here on Wednesday...”

“When’s the party?” He asked, trying not to let himself dwell on the actual question, were you staying or were you going?  

“Saturday evening...I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. It was leaving home either way but one of those included the possibility of never speaking to your family again.  

“It’s your decision. I love you, either way.” JJ promised.  

-

taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @outerbankspreferences @stevie-buck @bijleegiregi @vitaminekabc @minigranger @teamnick @just-smile-darling @obxsummer @damonsalvawhore27 @isqbella @tomzfrog @fangirlvoice @phantompogues @98starkeys @ilovejjmaybank @lemur46 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @babygal-babygal @niya-savage @divvrx @princess-of-the-fandoms @thecaptainsgingersnap @jenjie @yourprincess-maybe @wowmaybankk @goldeng1rl8 @outrbanks @mendesmaybank @thehomeiknow @minnie-bby @katiaw2 @2kayla64 

[pastelsandpining]

Song: "The Panic In Me" by Elton John

Pairing: post-calamity zelink

Congrats on 200!! You deserve more you lovely goddess!!

here you go! a serving of angsty fluff

The Panic in Me

words: 2349

warnings: death mention, panic attacks, nightmares, survivor's guilt if you squint

Masterlist | Song Fics

------

In a perfect world, they could leave their past behind them. They could move on with their lives, never once interrupted by the ghosts of an era that played out so long ago, neither of them should be alive to remember it. But this was not a perfect world, and too often, memories of the past taunted and pulled them so taught, it was hard to believe they hadn’t broken yet. Link did not know if it was easier to have a full memory, or if he was the lucky one out of the pair. Most of the time, he just felt lost. Where something should be, there was a blurry and vague image that made no sense to him. Gaping holes in the memory of his past life lead to many sleepless nights, and this was just another one of them.

In that life that was lost to the hands of time, he’d been a knight in service of the princess. A hero, destined to bring about the Calamity. That’s the kind way to put it, he thought. Harbinger of doom was a more fitting term, even a century later when it was done and over. It was a cruel trick that, by the time he was able to sink the sacred blade into the grotesque body of the beast, he could not remember much about those he was fighting for.

There was a collection of memories, sure. A few flickers of a face here, a voice there, a group of skilled warriors that’d come together for the sake of Hyrule--and what good did skill do them in the end? Remembering meant nothing when they weren’t around to remind him of who they were. They felt too far away for him to have any sort of connection to them, and it hurt. He felt… traitorous.

“Link?”

The hero lifted his head, tearing his gaze from the water flowing quietly beneath the bridge, and turned to look at the fallen princess he’d rescued a handful of weeks ago. She was creeping towards him from the house, hugging her arms. It was too late in the night, or early in the morning, for her to be awake. He pulled his legs from over the water and stood up to meet her, the wood cold beneath his bare feet. It reminded him that the weather was growing colder, and she must be freezing. He removed the cloak from around his shoulders and draped it around hers instead, but she caught his hands before he could withdraw.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Three simple words and the answer was anything but. He didn’t think there was a set of words he could string together that would make sense of his thoughts.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered instead, giving her hands a gentle squeeze in assurance that he was fine. In moments like these, he wondered if time was a blessing. A century ago, he’d have never dared to touch her in such a casual, insignificant way.

“How long have you been out here?” she asked. It was unnatural, surely enough to be a crime, how her eyes could glow even in the darkest hours of night--even when she was tired beyond belief. He thought briefly of saying not long, but he didn’t want to lie to her.

“I don’t know,” he decided instead. It was an alarmingly honest answer. He couldn’t keep track of time when he was in his head, thinking too much about things he could do nothing about.

“Do you want to come back inside?” she offered--an implication that they shared the house on the cliffside. He supposed, in a way, they did.

“It’s cold,” he answered with a nod towards the building. She’d come out barefoot as well, and he didn’t want her getting sick when she was just starting to regain her health. “Come on.”

The house was not much warmer than the air outside, but at least there was no breeze to sink the chill further into them. Zelda discarded the cloak and Link shuddered as he fetched a spare blanket from storage. He offered it to her, then wasn't entirely sure how it came to be wrapped around both of them.

“Link,” she tried again, fishing for his hand as she started towards the stairs. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He thought about nodding, assuring her he was fine and telling her to go back to sleep, but she was too smart for that. Maybe it was a gift she had, to know when he wasn’t okay, or maybe she just knew him that well even decades later.

“I was thinking,” he admitted at last, taking a seat on the bed when she pulled him down beside her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, holding his hand between both of hers, stroking it gently with her thumb. Link never realized how fleeting physical touch was, or how badly he craved it, until he wrapped her in a hug the very day she returned. Maybe it was selfish, how he didn’t want to let her go. Some small part of him still thought that if he did, she would dissolve right in front of him the same way everyone else from his past had.

“I died,” he said simply. “Didn’t I?”

It struck a chord with her too, because she tensed and averted her gaze. He was sure it wasn’t a pleasant memory for her. He’d gotten the best of it, after all--the only thing he could see or feel was her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. It was no louder than a whisper, but it was deafening. There was no new knowledge to be learned, but hearing the confirmation from other people was so much worse than just knowing it himself.

It was panic that filled him, thinking back on it. Panic that it wasn’t actually over at all, and that he’d find himself waking up alone with no one to touch all over again. He couldn’t speak the words aloud, so he simply sat there, letting Zelda lay him in her lap. Her hands in his hair, her quiet humming, carried him through the staggered breathing and flashes of a burning world. By the time he came around again, dawn was breaking over the horizon and he didn’t have the energy to move. It was a miracle Zelda’s fingers hadn’t put him to sleep already.

“You’re here,” she whispered, far closer to his ear than he remembered her being. It made him shiver. “We’re here. I won’t let you be alone.”

No, she wouldn’t, because she was too good for that. She was too good to have suffered the way she did. Where he was responsible for bloodshed, she was devoted and loyal. Link still couldn’t understand why the Goddess and her powers ignored her for so long.

“Zelda,” he said in return, lifting his gaze to her at last. It was all that could be said.

He didn’t remember being moved to the pillows, but her head was next to his now and he was certain their legs were tangled together under the sheets. He was holding onto her nightshirt far too tightly, so he uncurled his fingers to take her hands instead.

“Link,” she replied, giving his hands a squeeze, and the ridiculousness of the idea that he couldn’t even form a thank you caused him to laugh. It started weak and hardly more than a chuckle, but Zelda giggled softly beside him, and it grew until he was gasping for breath.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny. Maybe nothing was, and his laughter was simply a result of the unbridled joy she brought him. He would never truly know the answer to that question.

~~~

Zelda did not go without her fair share of torment. Nightmares were common, but her waking up with a blood curdling screaming in the middle of the day was not. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Her hands grasped at something, anything, but all she found was the now crumpled pages of her journal and the wooden desk that bestowed upon her hands a new splinter. She could feel her heart slamming against the inside of her ribs, trying to break free from the prison its sole job was to keep alive. She just barely registered the words coming from her mouth: “no, no, no.”

The door flew open. Footsteps pounded up the wooden stairs and she flinched when he entered her periferal.

“Zelda?” he asked as he knelt by her side. She slowly looked his way, her entire body trembling, and she wanted to cry.

“Link,” she whispered back, broken and watery. “Gods, I-”

“What happened?” he demanded, taking one of her hands. She winced. It was the hand with the splinter. He flipped it to her palm. She didn’t know how he could be so precise and smooth, but the intrusive piece of wood was gone before she could think of digging it out herself.

“I had a dream,” she explained, “the night before… before the Calamity. It made no sense but it felt… foreboding, like a promise—and I think I just had another.”

“Okay,” Link answered with a nod. She watched him shift, kneel in a more comfortable position--a sign he wasn’t going anywhere until she finished speaking. Zelda gripped his hands tighter. She recalled the whispered cries for help, the mangled corpse with glowing, familiar eyes, the feeling of falling down, down, down with him being the last thing she saw. She was shaking again, on the verge of tears, because she didn’t want to lose him again. They had only just started to learn how to love each other in a way that wasn’t dependent on who they were a century ago. She didn’t think she could do it again.

“It doesn’t feel like just a dream, does it?” he asked. Always so considerate, always so understanding.

“There’s been records of prophetic dreams,” she admitted quietly. She wished that if she didn’t speak it loud enough, then it wouldn’t be real.

“Do you think it’s prophetic?”

“I don’t know.”

She didn’t want it to be. The idea that this might not be over after all was terrifying. But Link gave her hands a gentle squeeze and pulled her forwards until she was on his lap, curled up into his arms where nothing could get to her. He was there, just as he always was. He was there when she visited the supposed grave of her father, and he was there when she took her first pilgrimage to Gerudo Town without the company of Urbosa, and he was there when the expectations of the past on her shoulders felt too heavy for her to keep afoot. What had she done to deserve his good graces?

“It’s okay,” he assured, even though she didn’t feel like it. His fingers came up to thread through her hair and she held onto him a little tighter. There were still the remnants of what it felt like to be falling, and the disgust and trepidation that came after seeing the dried out remains of someone who looked too familiar to be of any comfort.

“What if it’s real?” she asked in a whisper, trying to search his blue eyes for any indication that he was lying.

“There’s no way to know that for sure, but if it is, then I won’t let you face it alone.”

He looked so sincere. There wasn’t the slightest waver behind his eyes, or any uncertainty in his voice. He was so steady, so kind, and she almost believed him. She wanted more than anything to believe him. But she didn’t like the implications of her drop into the dark chasm, or the look on his face when she fell.

“I don’t want to do it again,” she said and lowered her head. “I’m tired. I’m so tired. Haven’t we done enough?”

He didn’t answer. He probably didn’t have anything to say, because the same questions must’ve been running through his mind. He had perished to the hands of the Calamity, and now at the slightest whisper of a return, what were they supposed to do?

“Zelda,” he said softly. She always liked how her name sounded in his voice, with no titles or such attached to it. “Look at me.”

She did. He took her chin in his hand, and she could melt at how gently he touched her. In this new age, outside of the eyes of Hyrule, she’d only seen him this serious on a few occasions.

“Yes?” she managed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it.”

But he couldn’t always help it, and expecting it of him wasn’t fair. He was still learning how to deal with that knowledge--accepting that he couldn’t always stop what was to come. Even so, it made her feel better. It filled her with warmth to know he was still so determined to stay by her side.

Zelda managed a small smile, then assured them further with a feathersoft kiss. It wasn’t the first they’d shared, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was a comfort she indulged in whenever she could. There was no reason to be ashamed of it or want to hide it anymore. All those who might’ve cared were dead, and that, while by no means preferable, was perhaps the best part to come out of a fallen kingdom.

“You calm the panic in me too well,” she commented with a weak chuckle.

“I’m just returning the favor,” he replied with a shrug.

It took a few minutes more for them to untangle themselves and stand from the hardwood floor, but by the time they did, the nightmare that interrupted her nap was nothing more than an uneasy feeling in the back of her mind. She trusted in Link, in the bond that they’d not only repaired but regrew and strengthened from almost nothing, and if something wanted to tear them apart again, well, it would have to go through her.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Teenagers, We Think We’re Smart

Read on AO3

Zatanna’s one hundred percent certain that her father rues the day he brought John Constantine home as his latest project as he paces the floor in front of her running a hand along his goatee with a loud sigh every few minutes.

“He’s a smart young man,” she remembers her father saying to her as Constantine roamed the edges of her father’s study picking up magical tidbits here and there and flipping them around haphazardly. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got a sorcerers mind. With the right tutelage he might even catch up with you one day.”

Rough around the edges had been her father’s polite description. Really he was the father of a teenage daughter’s worst nightmare, he just somehow missed that part as he allowed John into their home and began training him.

The sandy blonde hair always purposefully tousled, the tattoos that peaked from the edges of his ratty old jacket covered in patches and pins, the line of piercings along both ears and the handsome face with a nose that had been broken a few too many times were exactly what any girl would bring home for dinner to terrorize her parents. And here he was already sitting at the dinner table.

But Zatanna had no interest in making her father angry about the boys she spent her time with. She told herself that to her Constantine would be just another in a long line of young proteges her father picked up hoping to challenge her a little more.

They never did and she was content with letting the Constantine phase pass quickly. Constantine was talented her father had been right about that, but he was also a shameless flirt who liked to live a little too dangerously. It annoyed her to no ends, or at least that’s what she told herself the first few months.

“You’re exhausting,” Zatanna said standing up from her seat at the table they’d been occupying quietly reading until he’d started on a rant about some ancient demon he’d been reading up about. For all that she claimed he was exhausting, she chose to stay at the table for the entire rant. Just like he’d listened to her talk about the finer, boring details of backwards magic the other day. She was just keeping things civil, balanced, that’s all. “And one of these days my father is going to hear you going on about raising demons to fight just fights and he’ll never let you in here again.”

Constantine chuckled standing and following her as she made her way to the door. He caught up putting an arm in front of the exit loosely and just high enough she could still leave if she wanted, but with a quiet request to stop if she chose to as well. She should have ducked under his arm and gone on, but she stayed put turning her head to meet his eyes.

He looked her up and down once that little frustrating almost smile he always seemed to sport when he looked at her on his lips as he held her gaze.

She squirmed under the look. “You know this whole hot, bad boy schtick thing you’ve got going on, doesn’t work on me, right?” she said pulling the book still in her arms tighter to her chest.

“You think I’m hot?” he said with a raise of his left eyebrow, the one with the little scar from where his father had thrown a bottle at him when he was nine. She’s not sure he meant to tell her that story, too vulnerable of a moment to share, but he’d let it slip one night when her father had rushed off to some meeting of sorcerer’s or something of the like leaving the two of them to their own devices. Something had shifted from there; she couldn’t quite be as annoyed with him as she wanted to be anymore.

“Not the point,” she scoffed loosening her hold on the book and letting one of her arms drop to her side. “What I mean is the schtick doesn’t work, because I see there’s more underneath it.”

She didn’t really think after that she just acted lifting herself up and kissing him on the lips once hard and quick. She smiled at him before ducking underneath his arm that had slipped just a little from the shock of her kiss and walked off. She turned back just once before heading up the stairs passing her father who was oblivious to what had just happened to catch sight of Constantine running the tips of his fingers across his lips shaking his head with a smile.

Since then five days a week when he’s at the mansion they’ve been stealing kisses in shadowy alcoves and holding hands a little longer than necessary when conjuring something and the other two days either John’s in the audience of her father’s shows while she assists him or they’re slipping off to get into their own brand of trouble.

Tonight had been the latter and finally after months of caution and her father not so much as batting an eye at them, they’d been caught.

“I cannot believe you did this,” her father says finally speaking for the first time in nearly twenty minutes. Zatanna sits up straight from where she’s been slouched over her head resting on her hand watching as her father’s pacing comes to a stop.

“How long has this thing been going on?” he asks gesturing to the closed door on the other side John is, as far as she knows, still waiting for her father to inevitably ban him from the mansion.

“A few months,” Zatanna shrugs not wanting to go into the details. If he knows it’s been six months and that as weird as it can feel they call each other boyfriend and girlfriend and that a few short days ago John casually and quietly told her he loved her for the first time he’d flip out even more than he already is.

“Months,” he mutters under his breath rubbing a hand across his forehead. “And how long have you been spending your nights in pocket dimension magic bars that you’re not old enough to be in?”

“Just the once,” she quickly answers. He doesn’t need to know about the other pocket dimension magic bar they found themselves in last month and the subsequent bar fight John got into when a four-armed creature got three of his hand’s way too close to her. He’d probably be proud she’s perfected a spell to fix a broken nose without any pain however.

Her father opens his mouth about to say something else when suddenly the faint smell of smoke drifts under the door freezing him in place.

“That better not be a cigarette in my house out there Constantine,” he shouts loud and angry, the fearful sorcerer he is on full display. The smell of smoke dissipates almost instantly just as the clatter of something metal, a conjured ash tray she’d bet, falls to the ground.

She smiles a small amused smile that drops as soon as her father turns back to her.

“You are a child,” he says and Zatanna straightens up even more.

“I’m seventeen,” she says indignantly.

“Exactly, a child, both of you are,” he says once again gesturing to the door John sits behind. “A place like that is no place for you to be.”

“We didn’t even drink or buy anything,” Zatanna defends knowing it’s a weak defense that won’t win this argument. It’s the truth though, her father had just happened to walk into that same bar the moment when John had picked up an empty glass to show her a new trick he’d learned, which looked pretty suspect with no context she’s willing to admit.

“That is not the point and you know it. You have been lying for months and,” he says stuffing his hand into one of the pockets of his fancy black slacks. He pulls out a key with a bright pink motel keychain attached to it, John’s room number blazoned across it in bold black letters. “I found this by your door, you must have dropped it on your way out for drinks.”

She rolls her eyes and he gives her a sharp look that stops the roll in its tracks.

“How many nights have you not slept here?” he asks an eyebrow raised angrily.

“A few,” she shrugs, slinking back into her chair. It’s fifteen to be exact, another thing he doesn’t need to know all the details of.

“So, not only have you been galivanting off in bars you shouldn’t be in and lying about what you do with your free time, but my little girl has also been spending the night with some boy?” he says his voice getting a little louder. Not quite yelling, but definitely not happy.

“A boy you brought around,” she scoffs crossing her arms.

Her father let’s out an angry huff. “Well, not anymore. He’s done. I won’t have a bad influence around my daughter any longer.”

Zatanna stands from her chair grabbing his arm as he turns to the door on a warpath to kick John out for good.

“You can’t do that,” she pleas tugging his sleeve so he looks back at her. “He’s worked so hard, he’s bright just like you said when you first found him.”

“Bright doesn’t excuse lying and dragging my daughter around god knows where,” he says, but Zatanna holds tight to his arm pleading their case, pleading John’s.

“He didn’t drag me anywhere,” she practically shouts to hold her father’s attention.  “I was the one who wanted to go tonight, I’m the one who kissed him first, I’m the one who asked for a key. Me. Not him.”

She takes a breath soldiering on.

“You never want me to go anywhere, I ask for you to show me more and you won’t. I know my magic has limits that you won’t let me discover, but I want to,” she pauses dropping her hand from his arm. “I know you worry and it’s dangerous, but I’m not a little kid anymore. So I went to some of the places and learned some things I’ve been curious about not because John is a bad influence, but because I wanted to. At best he was a protective hand to hold mine if things got too scary and at worst a willing and caring accomplice.”

“No matter what, you’ve still been lying to me, both of you have,” her father says eyes still hard, but softening just a bit.

“Yeah, you’ve got us there and if you want to make us sit in silence and read history of magic books for weeks on end as punishment for sneaking around you can, but don’t send him away. He’s no angel, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a bad influence, if anything I’m too good of an influence on him that’s the first he’s smoked in weeks,” she says gesturing to the door with a chuckle. “You said it yourself we’re kids. Dumb kids who lied, but every choice I made was mine, and everything we did was between two people who lo-“ she pauses not really wanting to share that with her father right now. She hasn’t even said it back to John yet so she course corrects. “Care for each other in a fully consenting way.”

She finishes her argument off with emphasis hoping her father doesn’t try and go there specifically tonight. She doesn’t need another birds and bees talk from her dad. The first one was painful enough.  

Her father’s shoulders slump and he lets out a sigh more dramatic than necessary.

“Fine,” he says before reaching for the door and turning the handle. John practically falls through it when it opens, catching himself at the last moment.

He clears his throat standing to his full height and gives her father a smile that’s perfectly balanced between apologetic and humble, trying to play off the fact he was very obviously listening to everything that was said through the door.

“Three weeks,” her father says as John settles next to her. He starts to reach out for her hand, but thinks better of it at the last second. “You will both be sitting quietly reading magical history books that will bore you to tears for three weeks, no spells, no conjuring, no magic of any sort.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison. John’s shoulders which were rigid with tension, clearly worried he was going to be sent packing all the way back to London, drop and he steps a little closer to Zatanna.

“There will be no more lying, no more magical bars until your both of age,” he continues on holding himself in a parade stance in front of them, all business. “This key,” he says pulling it back out from his pocket and shockingly handing it over to Zatanna. “May be used, but you will come home at a prompt and discussed time when it is.”

“Yes, sir,” they say once again. John seems to feel a little braver now and reaches out tangling his fingers with hers.

“And if you do stay the night, you better be as sly about it as you have been and you must be safe,” he says his eyes staying put on John’s specifically in warning.

“Yes, sir,” he says with a confident nod. “Always am.”

“Good,” her father says softening his stance. “As for tonight though, I think it’s best you went home, John. I’ll let you say your goodnights.”

Her father gives her a small smile before swiftly leaving the room.

John lets out a long-relieved breath once he’s gone.

“Bloody hell I thought for sure he was going to send me packing, or just kill me,” he says letting his head drop down to her shoulder. “Definitely assumed he was about to melt that key right in front of us.”

Zatanna chuckles ruffling his hair and tugging at the ends until he lifts back up.

“Good thing he didn’t cause that one’s yours actually,” she says with a smile dropping it in his hand and pulling her own key from her shorts pocket dangling it in front of his eyes.

“Shit,” he says slipping it into the inside pocket of the long black trench coat he’s taken to wearing of late, she weirdly thinks a tan one would suit him better. “When the hell did I lose that?”

“This morning probably,” she says referring to when John had been sent upstairs by her father that morning to retrieve her for an early morning lesson. Things had gotten a little out of hands in the doorway when they’d been given a moment alone.

“Oops,” he says with a chuckle. He leans down kissing her lightly on the lips once, twice until the loud definitely magically manufactured sound of a ticking clock breaks them apart.

“Sounds like that’s my farewell song playing,” he says leaning in one last time, the linger of the cigarette he barely smoked in the hall still on his lips. “I’ll see you Monday for history lessons.”

Zatanna nods her head smiling as their arms travel along one another until it’s just their fingertips and he’s backing out of the door.

He turns and she follows watching as he heads for the intricate stained glass front doors.

“Hey, John,” she says leaning against the stairs. She can feel her father lingering at the top of them just out of sight, but she doesn’t care. “I love you too.”

He turns half in the door, half out with a big smile on his lips that she’s still getting used to seeing.

“Telling me just as we’re grounded, damn Zee. You’re gonna be the death of me luv,” he says smile still in place, he gives her a wink as he finally makes his way out the door the magic of the mansion closing it behind him.

She hears her father’s footsteps heading down the stairs as she pushes herself off of them.

“You two are going to make me regret giving you that key back aren’t you?” he says with a put-upon sigh.

Zatanna just smiles and makes her way up the steps patting him on the shoulder playfully as she passes.

“We’ll behave, I promise,” she says once she hits the top of the stairs and turns the corner.

“Go to bed,” he shouts after her sounding more like an exasperated single father than he ever has before as he trudges his way back up the stairs.

“As you wish father,” she shouts back playfully making her way down the hall to her room. As she turns the knob to her bedroom door she hears her father mutter with another loud sigh one solitary word: teenagers.