#luckily had help moving my wheelchair back into my car but I walked too much today so I hurt

[fireveined]

so exhausted but wanting to write tho i’m a hair’s breadth from falling asleep. rip.

[beauvibaby]

there won’t be anyone else — t.seguin

a/n: obviously my timeline isn’t going to be accurate, and I know he went back to Canada for a large portion of his recovery but this is what worked… should I do a part 2???

Part two here!

summary: tyler asks his best friend to stay with him and his daughter during his recovery

word count: 5.2k

tagging people who interacted with my post: @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @mandypants95 @fallinallincurls @sidscrosbyy @myhockeyworld87 @lilyhood22 @joeyisourranger @je-ne-regrette-rien @youngbeezer @slimdebrusk

“Y/N?” Tyler spoke nervously, you tore your eyes off of the six month old in your arms, she gurgled in complaint as she grabbed at your face, “what’s up?” You asked him, shushing his daughter as she kept pinching your face. He smiled at the sight of you two, “I have to have a couple of surgeries, big surgeries, and I’m going to need a lot of help with Willow.” He explained, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “do you think you could come stay with us for a while?” He finally asked, you nodded instantly, you’d known Tyler ever since he came to Dallas. Long before he ended up as a single father to little Willow. “Of course, Ty.” You assured him, “anything you guys need.” You added, giving him a soft smile as Willow reached for her daddy. “Hi baby girl.” He grinned, smothering her in kisses, “glad you finally wanted to come back to me.” He teased her, holding her above his head as she giggled, the sight alone melted your heart as she grabbed at his beard the second it was in reach. “When is the surgery?” You asked him, you were fortunate enough to run an online shop, so really, as long as you could bring your supplies to his house, which you knew he’d have no problem with, you’d be set.

“Next week,” he paused, glancing over at you, “in New York.” He rushed his words together. “New York?” You gasped, eyes going a little wide. “You don’t have to come!” He stated, “my mom is going to meet me there, and then she’ll fly with me back here.” He explained, “I’ll be gone for a little over a week, then I can rehab here.” He added, realizing he didn’t explain anything very well. “Are you sure you don’t want us there?” You asked, motioning to Willow who was happily laying on his chest, gurgling away, probably close to taking a nap since she just ate. “I do, I really do, but it’s not worth the hassle, she’ll be happier here.” Tyler sighed, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’ll send you a bunch of pictures and videos of her, promise.” You laughed softly, thinking of how crazy this recovery is going to be for him. “You’re going to do great.” You assured him, seeing the wheels turning in his head, “I’m sure of it, and I’ll do anything I can to help.” You murmured, running a hand through your hair as all he could do was muster up a smile.

***

Day 1.

Tyler’s mom FaceTimed you that night, once he was coherent enough to remember seeing his daughter. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin.” You spoke softly, Willow looking around with wide eyes on your lap, you flipped the camera to show her, “Tyler.” His mom mumbled, handing the phone over, he looked exhausted but the way his eyes lit up when he saw Willow, she’d just had a bath so she was only in a diaper, showing off her chunky little legs. “Hey, Willow, hi baby.” He spoke, she focused in on the phone, rapidly swatting at it as she recognized his face. You giggled, moving her around to be sitting more on your chest, her face next to yours. “Say hi.” You cooed to her, waving her hand for her, she bounced excitedly as he smiled at her.

Day 2.

He was a little grumpy that day, but tried not to show it as he got to see Willow via FaceTime again, you knew he was already tired of being unable to move.

Day 3.

You were talking to him encouragely as he walked for the first time in three days, Willow sleeping in her room, Tyler’s mom held the phone out in front of her. You knew it had to be hard for her as well, to see her son like this, all because he was playing the sport he loved. You took some time to talk to her as the nurses helped Tyler get back in bed.

He didn’t feel up to talking again that day so you were sure to send him photos and videos of Willow, she was finally sitting up on her own without falling over.

The next week went on like that until he was finally coming home, luckily it was right during Willow’s long afternoon nap, so you could help him get settled and get everything in order before his mother had to leave to catch a flight tonight.

***

“Hey, Tyler.” You smiled, opening the car door, greeting him brightly, he tried to mimic your eyes excitement, but you could tell it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Hey.” He mumbled, letting out a soft groan as you helped him get out and onto his feet, he gave his mom a hard time about using the wheelchair, you could see the pain floating in her eyes, just overly worried that he would fall. “I’ve got him, Jackie.” You assured, walking directly beside him as he hobbled with his crutches, she nodded, grabbing the bags out of the car as you helped him get inside the house.

“Thank you.” He sighed, leaning into the couch cushion as you put a pillow under his leg. You just gave him a reassuring smile, his mom dropping the stuff by the entryway, “be easy on her, I know it’s hard for you, but imagine if you saw Willow like this.” You added in a whisper, understanding came across his face as he nodded, motioning for her to sit beside him, you let them have their moment as you grabbed his bags and brought them to the room he’d been staying in, on the first floor for now, until stairs weren’t a questionable decision.

You put the clothes in the laundry, and moved some stuff down to the guest room, humming softly as you did this stuff without question, just doing it to be helpful, not thinking of how much the small gesture would really mean to him.

After a while, you peeked in on Willow and she was still sleeping soundly with her arms above her head, you smiled, carefully shutting the door to the nursery and heading down the stairs with the monitor, Jackie had to get going if she was going to make it to the airport in time. So you both said your goodbyes, and you could tell it was hard for Tyler to let her leave like that, but what was he to do, she has a life to get on with as well.

“How has she been while I was gone?” Tyler asked, looking at Willow on the monitor, his heart clenching in his chest, wanting nothing more than to hold his baby girl again. “She was good, Ty.” You giggled, easing his nerves, he nodded, “thank you, so much, I know we just started the recovery process but you’ve already helped so much.” He explained, adjusting himself on the cushions, “you don’t have to keep thanking me, I’m happy to help, I love spending time with her, and you.” He smiled at your words, giving you the side eye as you turned away in embarrassment. You two had always been flirty, but once he came to you and said that was going to be a dad, he changed, he stopped going out, he spent his time at home, and it only made it easier for you to imagine a life with him. “We like spending time with you too.” He whispered, resting his hand on your knee right before Willow started to cry. You could tell he briefly forgot he couldn’t go get her as he went to sit up but then stopped himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her.” You hopped up, excited to see her when she finally got to see him for the first time in over a week, you took the stairs two at a time as you heard her crying get more intense.

As you picked her up, you completely forgot that Tyler had the monitor, and could hear and see you tending to her. “Oh my goodness.” You cooed, scooping her up, “your daddy is so excited to see you.” You grinned, kissing her chubby cheeks, making a brief face of disgust as you got a whiff of her diaper, “let’s get you cleaned up first.” You whispered, grabbing her a new outfit, this one having dealt with a small blowout. You quickly changed her and put her in her little jean shorts and a pink shirt, if it wasn’t for you, you were certain Tyler wouldn’t have anything girly for her to wear. He was watching the whole time as you took care of her like she was your own, his heart swelling in his chest, he’d always had a thing for you, but as he saw you with his baby, it only made him fall harder. And he became determined to make you his by the time he was back to playing.

He turned the monitor off and shimmied himself to be sitting up more properly as you came down the stairs, “who is that, Willow?” You gasped, pointing towards Tyler, she began to bounce in your arms. “It’s daddy.” You grinned at her, walking over to him and allowing him to take her. He breathed out in relief, “I missed you so much, baby girl.” He groaned, hugging her tightly, she pushed on him so she could lean back and look at him, she looked at him with a completely serious face before trying to bite his nose. He broke into a fit of laughter as he moved her away from his face, “that’s not nice princess.” He joked, tickling her sides, she giggled swinging her little legs as he lifted her up. “I swear she grew in a week.” He mumbled, sitting her on his good side, she sat on the couch, chewing on her hands and getting drool everywhere. “And she sits now.” He groaned, dramatically resting his head in the couch, she mimicked him and fell into the cushion. “Crazy girl.” You commented, taking the chance while she was distracted to tie up the top part of her hair, she definitely had his hair and all it did was fall in her eyes. Tyler smirked at you, you rolled your eyes at him, “now she looks like a real little princess.” You quipped to him, he faked a gasp, dramatically hoisting her into his chest. “How dare Y/N say that about my princess.”

It was a lot of extra work, and mess, but you brought her jar of food and bib to the couch so Tyler could feed her, knowing it was one of his favorite times with her as she was so smiley. “Have you ever tried this?” Tyler asked curiously as you sat beside him with her in your lap, she happily ate the spoonful of puréed apples, peas and beets. “Baby food?” You asked with a laugh, he nodded, pushing some more into her gummy smile, she gnawed on the spoon as he tried to take it away. “No, I haven’t.” You answered as you contained your laughter, “I tried it once, I figured it couldn’t be so bad, and it was even worse than bad.” He explained, carefully prying the spoon from her hands, she pouted at him, about to cry until he gave her the last bite and let her chew on the soft rubber spoon. “I’m sure it was.” You snickered, lightly wiping around her mouth, “when’s that first tooth gonna come in? Hmm.” He spoke to her, rubbing her little tummy as she burped, he smiled at her, the love he had for her was something only a father and daughter could share, and it was beautiful as you could see the concern on his face as she began to whimper. You let him take her as you went to get rid of the jar and spoon, coming back with her bottle.

“I just changed her, so she should be good for a while after this, is it alright if I go get some work done?” You asked him, he easily nodded as he laid her back on his chest, holding the bottle up to her lips as she eagerly started sucking on it. “Yeah, of course.” He spoke, not hearing you had already started walking away once he nodded, he smiled as you were tying your hair up sloppily while you walked, something you’d always done when you were getting focused on a project.

He turned on the golf channel, sinking into the couch with Willow as she fell asleep once her bottle was empty, he laid her down in the cushion beside him, boxing her in with a rolled up blanket and leaving his hand resting on her as he himself fell asleep.

***

Tyler had been home for a couple of weeks, physical therapy had been stepping up a lot, which meant he was incredibly sore by the time he got home, and incredibly stubborn. He figured, if he could do it just fine with a doctor walking beside him, there was no reason he couldn’t walk ten feet into the bathroom. Well, he quickly found out he was wrong as he stumbled from a pain in his hip and ended up on his knees, cursing as he couldn’t push himself up. You heard him fall, then the sounds of him cursing to himself and you shot up. “Tyler!” You called, rushing towards his room, he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as you rounded the corner. “Hey, hey, are you ok?” You gasped kneeling beside him. He shook his head, slumping against the wall in defeat, “what’s wrong?” You asked, looking over him, trying to make sure he didn’t pull any stitches, or injure himself again. “I just can’t get up.” He muttered, slamming his fist on the wall. “I’m a fucking professional athlete and I can’t stand up on my own!” He snapped, he thought you’d move away at the tone of his voice, but you didn’t, you only moved closer, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I know, Ty. It’s going to be ok.” You whispered, his breathing was ragged as he finally gave in and hugged you back. He calmed down as you just stayed there, letting him hug you as tight as he needed, you pushed his curly mop of hair back once he completely calmed down. “You ready to get back up again?” You whispered, he nodded watching you stand up and give him your hands. “Just push with your good leg, alright.” You gently reminded him, stepping a little sideways to give your feet some traction. “One, two, three.” You pulled on his hands as he slid up, his back against the wall steadying him, he planted both feet on the ground, you quickly grabbed his crutches.

“I’ll just wait until you’re back in bed.” You mumbled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he nodded, hobbling to the bathroom right outside the room. Your adrenaline high quickly crashed as you waited for him, and you found yourself laying flat on the bed as you waited.

Tyler came back into the room, stopping in the doorway as he saw you stretched out on half of the bed. A smile came over his face as you shifted in your sleep, burying half your face in the pillow, inhaling softly as you felt at peace. He didn’t wake you, he couldn’t bring himself too, so he carefully got into the opposite side of the bed, the thumping in his chest so loud he was certain you could feel it as you subconsciously rolled towards him, resting your hand on his chest as he threw the blanket over you.

Eventually, morning came, and when you woke up in the empty bed, the events of last night came rushing back and you leaped out of bed, not only was Willow crying from her room, but you didn’t see Tyler anywhere, you instantly became worried he’d fallen again and you’d slept right through it. “Y/N?” Tyler called as you went rushing past the kitchen looking for him. “Tyler!” You gasped in relief, placing a hand over your chest as you saw him pouring a cup of coffee. “I thought you fell again, oh my god, where did you sleep? Oh, the baby, let me get the baby!” You rambled heading for the stairs, he chuckled as he listened to you stomp up them, Willow’s crying soon stopping as you picked her up.

He was feeling a little better today, so he managed to get Willow’s morning bottle ready, and some toast for himself, settling himself at the table as you came down the steps. Your hair was tangled in itself, you didn’t have makeup on, and you were in oversized sweats and a tank top, but you’d never looked better to him as you giggled with his daughter on your hip.

You called his name as you walked into the kitchen, spotting him at the table, he didn’t answer, but his eyes were pointed in your direction, “Tyler?” You called again, snapping your fingers. He blinked, “what? Sorry.” Tyler muttered sheepishly, “did you want eggs?” You asked him, eyeing him suspiciously as you maneuvered Willow in your arms to give her her bottle. She happily started drinking it as you propped it up on your cheek, pulling the eggs out of the fridge. “Give her to me.” Tyler chuckled, making grabby hands for her as you struggled to balance everything, you happily gave her over, glancing back as he cooed down to her, whispering a good morning as he kissed her messy head of his hair, they looked so like in that moment, Tyler with his hair sticking all over the place, and Willow with hers pushed to the side from you, with a clip barely holding it back.

“I’m not sure if you’re up to it, or if you want to, but I was going to go to the pumpkin patch later today, if you and Willow want to come?” You offered, “I know you hate having to use that wheelchair but it would be so fun to see her next to all those giant pumpkins.” You raddled on, giving Tyler the chance to admire you, “yeah, that sounds fun.” He answered, smiling when you turned to face him excitedly, “I’m sure you have some cute outfit for her planned out too.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, and you nodded eagerly, of course you did, how could you not, it is her first fall season after all.

“Here ya go.” You mumbled, sliding a plate in front of him, he furrowed his eyebrows, “I never answered about the eggs.” He didn’t argue though, as he picked up his fork and took a bite. “I know, but you’re doing a lot today, you need them.” You giggled, offering a small piece to Willow, now nearly eight months old. She happily mushed it with her couple of teeth, smiling brightly at Tyler, he nodded reassuring her that she was doing good.

Finally you were loading up into the car to go out for a while, Willow dressed in the cutest outfit she had, something you’d bought before she was even born. The belle sleeve onesie just barely still fit her chunky frame, and the red overall skirt over top just made her look even more adorable, and of course, a matching red bow in her hair. Tyler jokingly didn’t approve of how short her skirt was as he took her from you once you arrived, she sat perched on his lap as you pushed the wheelchair down the isles, thankful for the wood boards they had put down as paths in the dirt, Willow was making noises at everything she saw, reaching out to touch the pumpkins every once in a while. “Let me get a picture of you two.” You stopped his chair next to a huge pile of pumpkins, and he stood Willow up on his lap as she grinned at you, it was by far one of your favorite photos of them so far.

An older couple was walking by and smiled at you, “would you like me to take a photo for you?” She asked, and before you could even process her words, Tyler was answering with a yes please. You felt the blood rush to your face as you approached him, he handed Willow to you, and you were about to stand beside him but he gently pulled you to sit on his good leg, you didn’t have time to react, you only smiled for the camera just like he was. “Oh, how beautiful.” The older woman cheered, handing the phone back over to you. “Thanks.” You mumbled, Willow hiding her face in your neck, suddenly shy. You clicked on the picture, and you felt like your chest would explode, you looked like a family, but you weren’t. “Y/N?” Tyler called, you quickly shoved your phone in your pocket, “are you ready to go?” He asked, taking the baby back from you, confusion laced in his tone as he saw the look on your face. “Yeah, Uh, yeah let’s go.” You mumbled, pushing the chair towards the exit, he held in a sigh, trying to figure out what had caused your sudden mood change.

***

“It’s Christmas!” You heard Tyler cheer as he got Willow out of her crib, the nine month old clapping her hands out of his excitement. Tyler was on the upside now, his second surgery complete, and now rehabbing both, he was able to walk without his crutches, he had to go slow on the stairs, but the doctor encouraged him to keep working on them. In a few weeks he’s going to be skating for the first time in months, and you were terrified, meanwhile he was ecstatic, ready to feel like his normal self again. You smiled, keeping your eyes shut as your door opened, “it’s Christmas!” Tyler shouted, putting Willow on the bed and letting her crawl up to your head, mushing on your cheeks, you gasped lifting her up quickly, sending her into a fit of giggles in her reindeer pajamas. “Christmas? Your first one!” You spoke to her, Tyler smiled, sitting beside you. “Merry Christmas.” He whispered, handing you an envelope, he laughed as you put Willow down and quickly pushed yourself to be sitting against the headboard beside him. She made her little baby babble as she played with the bunched up blanket. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” You spoke softly, opening the envelope, revealing a gorgeous Christmas card. “Oh shush, just read it.” You could hear the nerves in his tone, you shot him a smile before letting your eyes run over the extensive writing he’d done.

“Y/N, you have been a godsend in mine and Willow’s life, there isn’t anyone else I would’ve trusted to leave her with during all of this, there isn’t anyone else I’d want to be helping me off the floor at three am. What I’m trying to get at is,

There isn’t anyone else. I don’t think there will be anyone else.

So, if you’d kindly accept my gift, dinner, without Willow, a date, that’s what I’d like to call it.

Love, Tyler.”

“What’s the matter, Seguin? Too afraid to ask me in person?” You quipped, he opened and closed his mouth searching for the right words to say, “is that a yes?” He finally asked, a hopeful look dancing in his eyes. “Of course it’s a yes. I’ve only been waiting months for you to ask.” You giggled, catching him off guard by pecking his lips, it isn’t like you two hadn’t shared kisses before, but it was normally in a drunken state. “Uh-huh.” He hummed pulling you back in for a proper kiss, Willow shrieked, startling you both. She was looking at you angrily, before snuggling up to her dad, as if saying you weren’t allowed near him. “Good job, princess, gotta protect daddy from mean ol’ Y/N.” He murmured to her, earning a glare from you, but as he broke into laughter, you couldn’t even keep up your charades. “Come on, it’s Christmas, she’s got presents to open.” You mumbled, kissing her chubby cheek, “presents!” He cheered, holding her up highly, she giggled as he lunged her back down.

The date had gone as good as you could’ve hoped,

not exactly how he’d planned, but still a great night, the sitter had cancelled, and the restaurant he wanted to take you too didn’t offer a pick up option, so you ended up eating pizza on the living room floor, watching Disney movies, per your request, and talking about everything and anything. And of course, there were lots of stolen kisses.

***

“It’s alright to be a little scared you know.” You reminded your now boyfriend, he was about to go on the ice for the first time in months, and the anxiety just hit him, what if’s repeating themselves in his head. Willow was fast asleep in the stroller, tired from her own activities this morning. “But–“ “No but, you’ve got this babe, you’ve been warming up to this for months, hell, you probably skate better than you walk.” You cut him off, giving him a short pep talk, you squealed in delight when he pulled you in for a quick kiss. You pulled away with a smile, “now, go show that ice whose boss.” You giggled, pecking him once more before patting his shoulder, you weren’t allowed to watch him rinkside, no distractions allowed, so you took Willow for a short walk, all the while she slept. You kept yourself busy, getting caught up with things on your phone as you waited for Tyler to call and say he was done.

Finally as you went back to get him, Willow was awake but grumpy, and hungry, so you kind of just rushed in with her on your hip. Also remembering you had some stuff to do for work today that was time sensitive, “how’d it go?” You asked as you bounced her in an attempt to get her to calm down. Tyler slung his bag over his shoulder, “it was great, rusty, but it felt good.” He explained shortly, sending your urgency, “I’ll put her in the car.” He offered, taking her from you, and instantly she calmed down, only making you feel worse. You knew it was common for her to go through phases, hell, she’d done this with Tyler where she wanted nothing to do with him for almost a whole month, you didn’t realize how bad it would hurt. He shot you an apologetic smile, “hey, just take a deep breath. You’re gonna get everything done on time.” He assured you.

***

New Years had come and gone, and Willow’s first birthday was quickly approaching, as were her first steps. Tyler was sad that they were going to be happening so soon, but at the same time he was beyond excited for her to be running around in no time.

She quickly grew out of the phase of only wanting Tyler, which both of you were grateful for, as he could see it eating away at you.

“Come on, come to dada.” You heard Tyler, you peeked your head around the wall, seeing him sitting on the floor arms reach away from Willow, she looked at him quizzically, reaching her arms out, she wobbled but didn’t fall. “Come on baby.” He encouraged her, she took one step, two, three, and he just kept sliding back until she couldn’t go any further. “Oh my god!” You and Tyler shouted at the same time, “shit,” he jumped now knowing you were behind him. “Hi.” You laughed, sitting beside him, “I think you officially have a walker on your hands.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He furrowed his brows for a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something, but then decided against it. “Yeah I do.” He chuckled in agreement, setting her back on her feet and grinning as she did it again, and again, and again until she was too tired to do anymore and just plopped herself on your lap.

“Hi baby.” You mumbled, kissing her forehead, she sighed, nuzzling into your neck, instantly falling asleep. “She loves you.” Tyler mumbled, tucking your loose hair behind your hair, you bit your lip as you looked over at him. “I love you.” He breathed out, relief hitting him when you broke into a huge smile, “I love you, Ty.” You mumbled, he kissed you as good as he could with Willow curled up on your lap. “Let’s go put her to bed, yeah.” He laughed, taking her from you and disappearing to her room in record speed.

***

Tyler had his first morning skate today, finally getting back into a routine with the team, he was anxious as it was on a Saturday, thankfully no game today, but it was Willow’s birthday party. Of course, all planned by you, Tyler clueless on what to do for a one year old, all he knew is it had to be puppy themed, because those were her absolute favorite things.

“Woah.” Tyler stopped in his tracks, seeing the decorations you’d spread out around the house, his dogs happily laying with party hats on their heads. “Baby, this is awesome.” He chuckled as you came around the corner to greet him, “I know it is.” You laughed, welcoming the hug he offered you. “Thanks for doing all this for her.” He mumbled against your head, “of course.”

***

“Dada, dada, dada!” Willow shrieked running towards him, “Willow?” He gasped, his first game back resulting in a loss, but he scored and you couldn’t lie, it made you emotional. And he was all the clueless to you two being here, “surprise!” You grinned as he scooped her up, “you came?” He mumbled in shock, kissing his daughter before pulling you in with his other arm, “of course we came.” You whispered against his lips, smiling as he finally kissed you, “you did so amazing, babe, I’m so proud of you.” You cupped his jaw with one hand, “thank you.” Is all he could get out before Willow started to speak. She reached for you, “mama.” Your breathing hitched, and Tyler’s smile had grown. You looked to him, afraid to over step, “yes baby, that’s mama.” He assured her, “Tyler.” You cautioned, taking her as she kept reaching for you.

“Y/N, she’s just as much yours as she is mine, you’ve been here since she came home, you’ve taken care of her like a mother, and I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. So yes. You’re her mom.” His words brought tears to your eyes, he smiled softly wiping away the tears, kissing your forehead as Willow watched curiously, she kissed your cheek with a smile, having learned early on to be affectionate to people she liked. “Thank you baby,” you cooed to her, resting your head on top of hers. “Mama?” She hummed, smiling against you. “Yeah.” You agreed. “I love you.” Tyler sighed, snapping a picture of his girls, he said the words right before he snapped the picture, getting the most genuine smile from you. “I love you.”

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @calgarycanuck

[hangovercurse]

Full House

Rook gets home from the hospital and life in the Baker-Cappelletty house is more hectic than ever.

Requests: “Can I get a JP Cappelletty imagine where you have help take care of him after his accident (at home) please”

“Idk if I’ve sent this one or not but can I have a Rook imagine where you take care of him after his accident and you have a daughter and live with Colson and how your life is then and maybe Colson helps out please (sorry if that’s a lot)”

Rook x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, implied smut, mentions of Rook’s accident

Word Count: 1459

“Look who’s home, Cameryn!” You cheered to your 2-year-old daughter, “Is that grandpa and daddy?” You picked her up so she could see through the window you were looking out of and then carried her to the front door.

Colson rushed over to the door and opened it for you, following you out, and then walked over to meet Rook and Johnny, who were still working on getting all of Rook’s things out of the car. You watched Colson’s interactions with your boyfriend as you moved over to them, Cameryn still in your arms.

Rook lit up when he saw her, “Hey princess.” He reached his arms up as you moved to set her on his lap, “other princess.” You pressed a quick peck on his mouth, a small smile spreading across your features. Your daughter squealed in excitement, having only been to see Rook once while he was in the hospital.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you guys for a couple days?” Johnny asked, Rook’s bag slung over his shoulder and a folder full of paperwork in one hand. You moved to grab the back of Rook’s wheelchair, only to be waved away by Colson, who was also attempting to take the position.

You smiled at the man, “We’ll be fine. You should go home; you’ve spent the past week in a hospital. We can take care of him now.”

Colson piped in, “besides, I’m here. I’ll take great care of Rookie!” There was obvious mischief in his voice, but you knew from years of living with Colson that he’d be there when it came down to it.

You grabbed the backpack and folder from Rook’s dad as Rook spoke, “Dad, I’m good. Go home, please.” Johnny reluctantly agreed, giving into the fatigue that was coursing through his body telling him to go to sleep in a real bed.

“Alright, text me if you need anything.” He moved to Rook’s side, picking up your daughter, who was poking at her dad’s new hand braces. “Bye bye, Cameryn,” he said, tickling her sides and making her scream with laughter.

“Bye, bye grandpa.” She said once she had calmed down, waving to him as she was placed into Rook’s lap again.

Johnny laughed, “she’s getting a lot better.”

Rook smiled down at her, “yeah she is. We were worried for a while because she wouldn’t talk, but now that’s all she wants to do.” He poked her sides gently, making her laugh.

“Alright, by kiddos. Goodluck with those three, Y/N.” Johnny waved as he got into his car.

You laughed, “thanks, I’ll need it.”

 Later that night you were trying to figure out how to manage life with one less pair of legs in the house. Luckily, Cameryn was having one of her calmer days and didn’t require the attention of three adults. She had sat on the couch with Rook most of the day, playing with various toys and being entertained by her father. You and Colson took turns in the room, making sure that Cameryn was returned to the couch if she ever ran off.

“Hide and seek?” Cameryn asked Rook while you prepared dinner in the kitchen. She had been on a kick with the game lately since Slim and Colson had taught her last week.

Rook sighed, “I can’t play hide and seek, kiddo. Maybe uncle Colson will play with you.”

Cameryn whined, “no! Play with you.”

“I can’t play, princess, my leg hurts. See?” He pointed to the boot on his foot with a frown.

Cameryn insisted, “hide and seek!”

You sighed, stepping away from the kitchen and peering into the room, “Cam, daddy can’t play hide and seek right now. Why don’t you ask Uncle Colson? Or play something else.”

Her lip started quivering and both you and Rook went into panic mode, trying to prevent the tantrum that was coming. “Wanna play!” She cried, starting to bounce up and down on the couch angrily. Rook tried his best to calm her down, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop her movements.

You moved towards her, only to be stopped by Kells. “I got this,” he whispered, “finish dinner and take a break, you’ve earned it.”

You smiled as you watched him scoop up Cameryn, bouncing her lightly in his arms to make her calm down. “Hey, Cameryn, let’s go play with some of your toys, yeah?”

Once the girl had left the room, you turned your attention to Rook, who was sporting a frown. “This fucking sucks,” he murmured, “I can’t do anything, can’t even take care of my own fucking daughter.”

You moved over to him quickly after checking that nothing would burn in your absence, “I don’t know if you were aware, but you got hit by a car, which is pretty badass.” You took a seat next to him, running a hand up his arm, “I know it sucks right now, but you’re not gonna be like this forever. And Cameryn will learn, she’s smart.”

Rook pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “she gets that from you.” You rolled your eyes at his lame words, standing up to move back to the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you think flattery is going to get you, but I promise it’s not going to work.” You called.

He chuckled, “damn, was hoping it’d get me another kid.” You rolled your eyes, picking a pillow off the couch as you walked by and chucking it at him.

 After the first week, you’d settled into an easy routine with Rook being out of commission. Luckily, you and Colson both worked from home, so you were only ever a shout away from your needy toddler and needy boyfriend.

The two of them ended up making quite the team against you and Colson, constantly whining for things because they were unable to get whatever it was for themselves. Most days, Rook kept Cameryn on the couch, reading to her and trying to teach her new words. Then Colson would take her outside to run around, something that Rook would normally do. You’d bring them all food whenever you could get a break, and as soon as you were finished with work, you’d plop yourself next to Rook on whatever piece of furniture he’d chosen to lounge on that day.

Today, he hadn’t had the energy to get out of your bed and move to the couch, so that’s where you joined him. Cameryn was on his lap, crawling over the bed to you once you’d settled in. “Hey you,” you said softly, “you’ve been good for daddy?”

Cameryn nodded firmly while Rook spoke, “we learned all about penguins and seals today. She loved them so much that she made me read the same book about them 5 times.” You giggled at his expression, “and then we watched lots of TV and took a nap.”

You hummed, “yeah? Did you work on any of those leg exercises the doctors gave you?”

Rook smiled, eager to show off his work, “Cameryn did them too. We did some leg lifts and we bent our knees, didn’t we?” The girl giggled when his attention shifted to her, “We’re still good to go back to the hospital tomorrow for that checkup, right?”

You pressed a kiss against his cheek, “yep. Colson’s gonna watch Cam for the day so we’re good.” Your hand reached out to stroke Cameryn’s hair lightly, “I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

Colson stuck his head in the room, “you’d die.” He laughed as he moved further into the room, plopping onto the bed next to Rook’s feet. “I was not listening to your conversation, I just happened to hear my name and you know I have a big ego.”

Rook rolled his eyes, “if I had a good foot, I would kick you right now.”

Colson laughed, grabbing Cameryn from you, and flipping her so she was hanging upside down over his shoulder. “I’m taking her for the night so you two can finally have some alone time.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you both suggestively, walking out of the room. “How does ice cream for dinner sound, Cam?”

The girl cheered as you sighed, leaning further into Rook, and letting the tension out of your shoulders. He used two fingers to move your jaw so you were facing him, leaning down, and kissing you deeply. Once you pulled away you let your forehead rest against his own, noses brushing against each other. It was quiet for a minute, you and Rook basking in each other’s presence. “You know you’re gonna have to top, right?”

You chuckled, pulling away from him. “Way to ruin the moment, loser.”

Taglist

@bakerkells @elviablo​ @iambashfulperson @sunflowerbebe107 @crystalbaby12 @stormrider505 @bowwowzer @mvrylee @daddyavesxx​ @pettyvxbes​

[tbmaybank]

New To Town (6)

(Gif credit to whoever made it; I’m sorry I’m not sure who it was)

Warnings: mention of abuse; court case.

A/n: there will be one more part to this! I hope you all have enjoyed so far!

Part 5

——————————————————————————

The few weeks leading up to the trial were a blur. But now the day was basically here, court starts at 9am tomorrow morning. I’m currently sitting in lawyers office, as she tries to prepare me for when I’m called to the stand to give my statement.

“Now, the defense is going to try anything they can to rile you up. They’ll ask you questions to try to make you think it’s your fault, which it’s not. Are you prepared for that?” The lawyer asks.

“Yes, I think so.” I replied, wishing I didn’t have to do this. Which, I guess I technically don’t have too, but they told me that it does help the chances of a guilty verdict.

We spend the next hour going over my story, starting at the beginning of our relationship, and everything that led up to this incident. We run through possible questions I’ll be asked.

“This boyfriend of yours… JJ, correct?” I nod. “They are going to ask about him, I can almost guarantee that.” I kind of figured that. They were having him come to the stand too, since he’s the one who found us that day. “There was nothing going on with him before you left Scott, correct?”

“No, I didn’t meet him until after I moved out.”

“Good… good. They’d definitely try to use that as ammo.”

Eventually, we were finished for the day. As prepared as we can get, as she put it. She went to the door of her office, and told Sarah I was ready. Sarah has been helping out as much as she can, whenever JJ wasn’t able to, she was right there. I could never thank her enough. When you have a broken leg, and a broken arm, getting around becomes pretty tough. Can’t walk, obviously, and crutches are out of the question. So until I’m healed up, I’m in a wheelchair. That I can’t even work by myself, cause like I said; broken arm.

“How do you feel about tomorrow?” She asks once we’re in the car.

I shrug, “I think, that no matter what we say or do, he’s gonna get out of this.” This was the first time I’ve admitted this fear out loud.

Sarah nods slowly, understanding why I would think that. “It’s a fear of mine too, y/n. But I hope we’re wrong. He deserves to rot in there for what he did.”

We pull up to the Chateau, and John B comes over to help get me inside. He’s been letting me stay here since the incident, the stairs leading up to my apartment just being a major hassle.

“JJ should be here any minute,” he says. “How did it go today?”

“In the words of the lawyer, we’re ‘as prepared as we can be.’” I tell him as he helps me get situated on the couch. He nods in return, and then pulls out a blunt.

“Want something to ease your pain a little?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“God, yes.”

JJ gets there when we’re about halfway through smoking. “Hey baby.” He says, leaning down to kiss me. He takes the blunt from me and takes a couple hits. “You feel ready for tomorrow?” He asks as he sits down.

“I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna enjoy tonight.”

And so we don’t talk about it. We spend the night laughing all together. While tomorrow didn’t completely leave any of our minds, we pushed it as far back as we could.

————————

*The Next Morning*

If I wasn’t stuck in this chair, I would be pacing the hallways at the courthouse right now. But I can’t. So instead I’m sitting here, tapping the food I can move repeatedly on the floor, trying to slow my breathing down. JJ takes my hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Baby, it’s gonna be okay. You don’t even have to look at him in there. I’ll be sitting in the front row. Just look at me.” I nod, thanking him. “By the end of this, he’ll be in jail for a very long time.”

“J,” I say while sighing, “I really don’t think he’s going to be.”

He looks confused. “Why do you say that? He almost killed you, y/n. They’re not just gonna let him walk.”

“He’s loaded, J. You know people like him don’t ever actually get in trouble.”

He looks at me for a second, like he’s trying to find something to say.

“Y/n? We’re ready for you.” The lawyer interrupted before he could find the words to say.

JJ wheels me into the courtroom, and up to the stand. Thankfully they had one I could just wheel up too, and didn’t need to try to get into a different chair. He gives my hand another quick squeeze before going to sit. I’m trying hard not to let my gaze fall onto Scott. I can’t let him get into my head. Not again. Ever again.

I almost feel like I’m on auto pilot as I answer the questions thrown at me. Feels like I’m reading from a memorized script as I tell the story on how we got here. These are the questions from the prosecutors side though, these are the ones I rehearsed over and over with the lawyer. But when it comes time for the defense attorneys questions, I’m scared. I have no idea what they’re gonna ask me.

“Miss y/l/n, you said the defendant came into your apartment uninvited, correct?”

“Yes.”

“He tells us that you opened the door for him, though. Is this true.”

“I opened the door expecting my friend, not him.”

“He also states that you slapped him. Is this also true?”

I hesitate for a second for a second while answering this one, “y- yes. But-“

“And was hitting him something you did often before you left originally?”

“No. This was the first time.”

Why are they focusing so much on one slap, when I’m sitting here with broken bones? I think to myself. Eventually he does move onto a new subject. JJ.

“You told the defendant that you had a boyfriend. Was this a relationship that started while you were still living in the defendants home?”

“No.”

“But you did start this relationship up fairly quickly after leaving, correct?”

“About 2 months.”

“And the defendant, he just wanted you to come home, is that what he told you when he came to your house?”

“Yes, and I refused.”

“I see,” the lawyer says, turning to face the jury now. “I think it’s clear what happened. Our defendant here, never wanted to harm y/n. He wanted his fiancé, the woman he loved, to come home. And she chose a man she barely knew over him. This was, at most, a mistake made by a man with a broken heart.”

I turn to look at JJ after he says this. I can feel the anger rising up in me. It’s okay, he mouths to me. No. No it’s not okay.

“He didn’t love me.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying into the mic, getting the attention back from the attorney. “He loved controlling me. He took joy in making me feel pain, in every way he could. You don’t hurt someone, especially to the point of this,” gesturing to my casts, “if you love them. You don’t almost kill someone by beating them, if you love them.”

The lawyer smirks, and looks to the judge. “No further questions, your honor.”

JJ comes to wheel me back, and then it’s his turn to take the stand. Luckily they don’t hammer him as much. They ask him what happened, what exactly he saw when he when he walked in the apartment that day. What happened between him walking in and the cops arriving.

Eventually, they were done questioning him. The jury was sent to discuss a verdict. JJ brings me outside of the courthouse while we wait to be called back in to hear what they decide. The rest of the Pogues are waiting out there for us, and all of them give us hugs when we come out.

“I brought you guys some food, thought you might be hungry. Sarah said neither of you ate much this morning.” Kie says, handing us a bag of takeout from The Wreck.

“Thank you, Kie. You’re too sweet.” I say to her, taking the bag.

I start eating while JJ fills them in on everything that happened. I try to join in and act normal, but I just can’t. I just keep replaying what that lawyer said to the jury. Scott was not heartbroken. And he didn’t make a mistake. I just really hope I’m wrong, and he actually doesn’t get to walk.

After a little bit, the rest of the group goes back to the chateau to give me and JJ some time alone together.

“You know, even if he doesn’t go to jail we’re gonna keep you safe, right? You’ll still never see him again.” JJ says as he takes my hand in his.

I nod, “I know, I just don’t want him doing this to someone else.”

“I don’t either. I know you don’t feel confident about this but I do.”

I give him a smile. “You really are amazing, you know that?”

“Y/n? JJ?” We head, making us turn our heads, “it’s time.” Instantly my hands start getting shaky. JJ kisses the top of my head before wheeling me back in. We stay in the back of the room, and I say it’s because of my chair, but in reality I just don’t want him to be able to see me. I know I should be listening to what’s being said in the room right now, but I can’t focus. JJ has his arm draped around my shoulder, and I brought my hand up to grab his.

The man standing in the jury section finally grabs my attention as he says 4 little words.

“Guilty on all charges.”

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[youarejesting]

Wash out.17

Banner: this banner is made by the lovely @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Words: 2.2k Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

Taehyung thought this was the most stupid and wreckless thing you had ever done and he was an idiot to be apart of this. But that’s what friends are for, right?

Jin was in position in his car one stop away from the amusement park, which meant the two of you had to sneak a five foot seven mermaid out through the crowds. Without exposing his tail and then getting him onto the bus and then into Seokjin’s car. This was like some weird video game but there were no save points or second chances.

It took a few trial runs without Jimin before you came up with your plan. You both had a total of 42 min to cross an entire park, your route had to include ramps as you would be using the lost and found wheelchair. The stakes were high if this went wrong, the two of you and Jimin were going to be in deep trouble.

After Taehyung’s first show with the dolphins he came to the warehouse for ‘lunch’ where the two of you used the sling to get Jimin out of the tank. You were lowering him into the wheelchair while Taehyung guided him into the seat. 

Draping a blanket over his tail, you made sure it was fully covered completely around, not wanting anyone to catch sight of his fishy appendages. “How long till you dry out?” Taehyung asked bluntly pulling a shirt over Jimin’s head and a Hat with the amusement park name on the front. 

“Uh, about ten minutes.” he said,

“Alright let’s go, tell us if you feel uncomfortable at all Jimin.” You nodded at Taehyung who began pushing the wheelchair. 

You moved along the path, watching Jimin look around in a mix of alarm and excitement. He seemed to frown at the heat and brightness from the sun. 

“I’m getting kind of dry,” Jimin muttered shifting in his seat, Taehyung opened a water bottle and poured it down Jimin’s shirt. You were heading down the ramp getting close to one of the rides, the water splashing Jimin slightly. 

Turning the corner you stopped watching the leader of the management team walking towards the warehouse. 

He had a phone to his ear talking to someone in a business tone. Spotting the three of you and recognizing Jimin. “Oh I forgot my paperwork in the office, I will just grab it quickly before heading to the warehouse. I will send you the report on the merman when I see him.”

He nodded his head towards your odd throuple, taking a step back and turning around. He had helped you; he had wanted you to escape. 

Pushing forward you were stopped by a crowd of people, Jimin was getting uncomfortable again. The sun was his enemy. 

Pushing through the crowd you finally got through and we’re racing for the exit. Jimin squirmed again, why did it have to be so hot today?

Taehyung detoured to the left to the touch pools, grabbing Jimin's face and shoulders, dumping it in the water. Pulling him back out he looked shocked but at ease as the water dripped down to his dry tail. 

Looking up, Taehyung saw a horrified staff member. You pulled a starfish off of Jimin's face delicately with wet hands. Rubbing the back of his neck Taehyung laughed awkwardly, they probably thought he was harassing someone who was disabled. He dunked his head in the water as well so as to make it seem less awkward. 

“See you don’t need to go on rides to have fun, come on more to see,” he said. Flicking his wet hair back and wheeling the merman away quickly before they called security. 

You had purchased some more water bottles and dampened the blanket draped over Jimin's tail. The three of you moved out the entrance of the park and to the left towards the bus stops. Luckily the bus had just arrived helping Jimin on and relaxing. You were halfway there and in the cool of the bus out of the sun Jimin too relaxed, somewhat eyeing the world passing by. 

Getting off at the next stop, Taehyung rolled Jimin towards Seokjin’s parked car. Taehyung saw him leaning against his car looking kind of handsome in the afternoon sun. 

He hated to admit it but the two had grown close, somewhere along the way of helping Seokjin grieve Taehyung learnt things about him that opened his eyes. 

Seokjin wasn’t a bad guy, he was confident and funny and a bit of a goofball but he was also a kind and caring guy. Taehyung thought maybe if they met on better terms they might have been friends. 

“Finally,” Seokjin smiled at the three of them, making Taehyung smile back shyly. “Let’s get him home quickly,”

“Help me get him in the back,” Taehyung gestured to the back of the car. You ran around getting in the back, ready to help guide Jimin in when Taehyung and Seokjin lifted him into the vehicle.

Taehyung secured Jimin under the arms, letting Seokjin lift him from the waist, aiming the blanket wrapped tail in through the car door. Jimin was frowning, not exactly appreciating their lifting technique. Taehyung gave him an apologetic smile, “Sorry friend.”

Sliding in the front seat, Taehyung watched Seokjin pack the wheelchair into the boot of the car and take the driver's seat. “Do you mind if we get some drive thru on the way home?” Seokjin said, looking in the rear view mirror. 

“We gotta get him home before he dries up, we can order in,” Taehyung laughed but inside he was concerned with the mermans health.

“Sure, we can order in.” Seokjin sighed, “Jimin, my name is Seokjin. It’s nice to meet you.”

Taehyung was lost in thought watching him drive, he was concentrating on the road and it made him look mature to be so serious. It seemed strange to be in the same car as Seokjin; a month ago he would have threatened to jump out on the freeway, rather than spend even ten minutes in his rival's car.

Pulling into the driveway Jimin winced getting back into the wheelchair and they placed him in Seokjin’s bathtub which was filled with seawater, it had taken a ten litre container and multiple trips to drive enough seawater to fill the tub. The two lifted Jimin, lowering him into the bathtub where he sat relieved to be in water once more.

“Do you need anything?” Seokjin tried to be polite to his guest. Jimin again didn’t reply again, instead his arm stretched out, small hand reaching for Seokjin.

Seokjin held his hand out to shake Jimins but was pulled forward where the two shared a kiss. Taehyung immediately pulled Seokjin back, feeling his blood boiling, “Can you understand me now, Seokjin.” Jimin smiled

The anger which had flared up inside Taehyung died off with the realization that Jimin didn’t speak english and Seokjin wouldn’t understand him without sharing a kiss. Coughing awkwardly, Taehyung looked at the three in the room. “Who is hungry?”

“What do we feed Jimin? We didn't think this through,” You said immediately looking alarmed.

“Does he eat sashimi?” Seokjin asked Jimin

“Maybe I can go into work and sneak out some fish?” Taehyung said

“No, we can’t go back there, we can’t return home, we can’t see our family. We have to hide here with Jimin until we can get him to his home.” You argued walking out the bathroom. Jimin leant over the bathtub side trying to see where you were going. Cute, he must really like her.

Returning with arms full of menus, you sat on the floor beside Jimin and began looking through them, “What does everything want?”

They got fried chicken, bulk tuna and salmon sashimi, Kimchi Jjigae, Jjajangmyeon and tuna mayo rice balls. The selection was quite wide and you brought everything into the bathroom sitting and eating on the floor.

Jimin ate the sashimi but seemed really interested in the other foods, Taehyung offered him a tuna mayo and rice ball. Taking one Jimin sniffed it before he took a bite contemplating the texture and flavour before popping the rest in his mouth. 

“You should offer Jimin some fried chicken to try, as you are closer” Taehyung said with a sly smirk, you rolled your eyes taking a piece of chicken and holding it out to Jimin. He let you hold it while he leant over and took a small bite.

He chewed thinking about the crunch and the flavour before his smile grew he took another bite and another. “This is so tasty.”

“Would you like to try some more dishes?” You asked, smiling at Jimin ready to offer him more food. Taehyung and Seokjin shared a knowing glance but they didn’t say a word. “Okay this one just try a little cause it is a bit spicy which means your mouth will get really warm okay.”

Jimin had some soup and smiled, licking his plump lips a little confused, “My mouth is really warm and tingly.”

“That’s what we call spicy.” Seokjin said, “It is good but don’t have too much. It's your first time eating things that aren’t fish so it could make you sick of all these new foods, you can try some more another time.”

“Oh, I got this really hilarious picture today on our way out of the park,” You shouted brandishing your phone screen to all of them. “You should have seen Tae, he full on dunked Jimin head first in the touch pools and the staff were about to call security.”

That night the boys went for a shower Taehyung stepped out laughing, “Jimin told me this hilarious story about his friend falling off the back of a crab”

Seokjin smiled heading into the bathroom coming out with bright red ears, “I have never had someone sit there and watch me while I shower, but he did tell me about some kind of cool stuff about his home, he said the king wouldn’t hurt Namjoon.”

Taehyung watched you gather your things and walk to the bathroom, he ran up to the door pressing his ear against it, Seokjin beside him doing the same thing. The two stared at one another as they heard you speak. 

“Don’t um turn around, I am going to shower?” You had stuttered, obviously nervous. 

“I don’t understand, but I will do as you say” the two of you talking quietly. 

Tags: @backinblack1967​​  @miriamxsworld​​ @moccahobi​​ @simplymemyself​​ @a-gayish-unicorn​​​

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[random-imagines-blog]

Broken {Charles Xavier x Platonic!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2891 Summary: Like most people in stories, you didn’t have a good upbringing. But luckily a professor in a wheelchair comes to give you that happy ending.

Hate was a language that you knew too well. It was the language that you had grown up with, because it was all that your parents had spoke. There might have been love behind those fake smiles at one point or another but you didn’t remember it. You can’t claim to have ever seen it. They were dishonest, they were suspicious, they were greedy. They saw that you had an ability and they wanted to use it to their advantage, no matter what it had done to you. If you touched someone, you could see their dirtiest secrets, their disgusting desires, the darkest part of their soul. When you are six years old and your father is forcing you to touch the hands of men in order to blackmail them, you grow terrified, and also distrustful of the world. You were absolutely traumatized. You had no friends growing up, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, you didn’t even trust animals. You never ran away from home, because at least there, you weren’t hurt. You wore gloves to keep the evils of the world at bay - when your parents didn’t utilize you. It was a horrible life for a child.

You were sixteen when Charles Xavier first approached you. It had taken a while to find you - you weren’t anywhere near New York State. But he had been branching out more and more, taking on students from around the country rather than just their area. He had talked to you outside of your home, and you hadn’t been trusting in the slightest, not until you heard his voice inside of your head saying that it was okay if you wanted to touch his hand. He wanted you to trust him.

But you refused. And he accepted that, which was a relief because you didn’t often get to walk away unscathed from meetings with weird men. He left you with a brochure though, making sure that he didn’t get close enough to make you uncomfortable. You snuck it into your room and kept it under your mattress, lest your parents find out. They would absolutely forbid you from going to a school with other mutants. You brought it out every few nights and read over the text though. A chance to learn how to control your powers so you wouldn’t have to see the evil in people? It was hard to believe that such a thing could be possible, but you held out hope nonetheless. Anywhere would be better than here.

-

On your eighteenth birthday, you ran away. You were an adult and your parents could no longer make you do anything. You climbed on board a bus that was headed to New York, and you would find your way from there. Completely covered from head to toe - thankfully it was winter - you lessened any effect from your powers, and managed to get along without finding out even more about the lack of humanity in people. If this didn’t work ... you might have no choice but to take your own life.

You arrived in New York City in the morning. The big city was an amazement to behold. You bought a newspaper and were amazed that there were even that many writers working. And not a trace of anything like mutants. Not a trace of anything evil either. A lot of it was about pop culture, which was something that you were very behind on and didn’t care much about either way. But at least it helped you to understand all of the billboards that you saw in the city center.

It didn’t take long, however, for you start feeling lonely. Holding the well-read brochure in one hand and the newspaper in the other, you found a payphone and punched in the phone number typed in bold letters. Someone named Hank answered, and transferred you right away to the person named Charles Xavier without question. So far, it was the most promising thing in your life, and you clutched onto that phone as if it was a buoy in a stormy sea.

“Charles Xavier,” The smooth voice said into the earpiece.

“H-Hi,” You said, your heart beating quickly with nerves. “You might not remember me but my name is y/n y/l/n, and you approached me two years ago-”

“Of course I remember you, love,” The man said softly. “You’ve been on my mind. Seeing the darkness in people, am I remembering right?”

“Seeing their darkest desires and deeds,” You said, feeling something akin to relief. You don’t know how he found out about your powers but at the moment, you didn’t care. “I’m technically an adult now, and I managed to get away from my parents. I’m in New York and I was wondering...”

“Of course, of course, we will send out a car to come and collect you, if that is what you want.”

“I want to be better,” You muttered into the silence. “So yes - I need to learn how to be better.”

“You are perfect the way that you are, I promise you that. We’re leaving in five minutes and we’ll be there within a couple of hours. Where would you like to meet?”

You were so unused to positivity that you literally had to swallow tears at his words. “I umm - I’m near a hotel - The Roosevelt.”

“Okay, we’ll meet you there. And I just want you to know, y/n, that if you ever decide that you don’t want to stay with us, I will personally help to set you up wherever you want to go. I want to make that clear, since I understand that you have been mistreated in the past.”

“Thank you,” You said, sinking to your knees on the dirty ground. Charles hung up on the other line, and you stayed there on the ground, the phone dangling on the cord. Whatever this was - it was mystical. You waited for him there, not moving for the time that it took for a van to come and collect you.

Charles was the same as you remembered, though his hair had gotten longer. The wheelchair was pulled out of the back of the van, and a blonde man with a smile helped to put Charles into it. “Y/N ... are you alright?” He asked, coming towards you without much effort at all. Of course he would have a highly-powered wheelchair  rather than a push one.

You looked into his blue eyes and for the first time in your life, you felt a sense of safety. He meant what he had put in the brochure, right down to the letter. He would take care of you, and protect you.

-

Your first few days were very overwhelming. The school was bustling with activity at just about every moment. People were extremely friendly, which was even more anxiety-provoking because you just could not trust them. After Charles himself had given you the tour, you were left alone in your room, which was the only room you felt comfortable in at the moment.

You had a lock on your door and you took advantage of it. The bed was just a single, which was smaller than the one at home, and there was a dresser, a desk, a lamp and a chair. It was sparse, but Charles had assured you that you could make the room your own in any way that you wanted. He said that sometimes the students go to the city on weekends and you were more than welcome to join them to buy some furnishings. He even offered to give you a monthly allowance if you helped to tidy up around the school. It was something you would think about, as long as you got to do it alone.

Most of the students were around your age. Some were older, some were younger. They may not have had the time to produce dark desires or do anything really horrible, but you didn’t want to take the risk of accidentally seeing something.

You stayed in your room throughout the weekend, until Sunday night came, and the panic along with it. Your parents had homeschooled you, not wanting to risk you getting out of the house and never returning. So tomorrow was going to be your first time in a classroom with a group of people since you were in kindergarden.  

What if you bumped elbows with someone? You would have to wear long sleeves, make sure all of your skin was covered. The gloves definitely. Would a sweater be amiss?

You sat on your bed, head between your knees, your breathing starting to hitch. A panic attack, you knew these too well. They were an old but unwanted friend. If you were panicking, it meant that you were alive, which was a good thing. And this seemed to be a safe place, but you couldn’t trust anything anymore. Home was meant to be a safe place. Had you run from one hell to another without realizing it?

Your cheeks felt wet. Your nose felt stuffed. Your mind felt loud. But despite all of these sensations, you heard the knock at the door. It sounded as if you were underwater and it was far away. But you didn’t answer it. No one needed to see you like this. You didn’t even want to look at yourself like this.

“Y/N, are you alright in there?” Charles asked. It seemed like whenever you spoke to him, he felt the need to ask you that. It seems like he already knew you all too well. “Y/N, can you open the door please?”

You didn’t answer the comforting voice. You were afraid that if you moved, you might actually have a heart attack and die right here and right now. You missed where Charles politely asked someone to fetch the masterkey for the doors, but you still did not flinch when the door swung open and he came in uninvited. At least he closed the door behind him.

“I understand how you feel,  y/n,” Charles said, coming right up to your bed. He didn’t touch you though, he just spoke. It was strange but as he expressed this understanding to you, you began to feel calm. Like his soothing voice was penetrating your head and filling up the spaces where the panic was, forcing it to leave. You finally had the strength to lift yourself up and look at him.  

“How can you possibly know?” You questioned. “When you found me two years ago, did you know what I could do? Did you know where I had been that very day and what I had to see? How could you still let me in if you knew all of that? I could have brought danger here - oh my God, what if the people my parents made me .... what if they follow me here because I know their secrets?”

Charles waited patiently until you got it all out. Only then did he begin to explain himself. “I am a telepath,” He didn’t say the words outloud, but you felt them inside of your head. As if it were your own thoughts. “I know what you can do, though I don’t know where you have been. I would never go through your mind like that, I promise. Your mutation gave you a distrust of the world, but I want you to understand that you can trust me.”

He held out his bare and fleshy palm to you. You stared at it without reaching for it. You wrapped your arms around your torso, trembling at the thought. This could ruin the place for you. If you saw something terrible, maybe something even Charles didn’t know himself...

“I want this to be a home to you, as long as you are here,” Charles implored. “And I want you to know more about me so that, in time, you can tell me more about you.”

“And if I don’t like what I see, I can leave, no questions asked?” You pleaded for the answer to that, needing to know that you had an out if you wanted it.

“Of course,” Charles said with a nod. You shuddered as you pulled the leather glove off of your hand, exposing it to the cool air inside of the room. He kept his hand out to you, without the least bit of hesitation. He wasn’t shaking, wasn’t wobbling, nothing. You never touched someone who knew about your power before. You were more nervous for it than he was.

You rested your hand on his, and your eyes closed of their own volition. It was as if you left your body and jumped into his, going through his thoughts, the worst of it being shown like a movie on a screen. You saw many, many things. There was a lot of anger, but it wasn’t towards anyone else. It was to himself. You saw the anger that he felt when Erik betrayed him, when Raven betrayed him, when he made a woman he was in love with forget him, when he turned his back on himself and turned into a recluse and abused a drug to get rid of his power in exchange for his legs. It was not at all like other things that you had seen in people’s minds.

It was dark, yes, but it was also terribly sad.

You found yourself crying once more, but on his behalf this time. When his face came back into view, you saw that he too had a tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t often bare my soul in order to get people to trust me, but I’m glad I made an exception for you,” He said, somehow still smiling.

“I think I’m ready to tell you of my experiences,” You hiccuped.

“Would you prefer to show me?” He asked.

“No. God, no,” You whispered, shaking your head. Your hand was back on your knee now, where you felt more comfortable. Charles had revealed enough. If you touched him again, there would only be more. “It’s easier to deal with if I put it into words, if that’s okay.”

As you told him about the many men that your parents had made you touch - pedophiles, murderers, embezzlers, thieves - you felt yourself falling under the weight of your words. The panic had exhausted you, as did the memories that were rushing forward. You didn’t even realize how heavy it was until you found your head on Charles’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind either. He just patted your back as you revealed that you knew the secrets of all of these bad men, but the most horrible part of it was you couldn’t even use the information to put them in prison like you should have. Instead, your parents were blackmailing them, using their secrets to get them to finance their lifestyle.

You felt worn out when you finished telling Charles everything, up until you had run away from home on your birthday and now here you were. And you realized that he was still touching your back, resting his hand on the fabric of the sweater that you were wearing indoors. It was so soft and comforting having someone take care of you like this. How many times had you laid alone in bed as a child and wished for your parents to do something similar? It was beyond count. This was the first time that you truly felt you could put trust into another human being.

There was a prolonged silence but it was comfortable. He continued to lightly stroke your back, and you got your breathing back to normal. “Thank you for telling me,” Charles said, breaking the quiet. “You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, and I have some phone calls to make.”

You released yourself from him, though it was incredibly hard to do so since you were growing attached to the Professor. He was the closest thing to a friend you had, and this also meant that he was the closest thing to family that you had. “Are you going to make sure I didn’t see all of that for nothing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Charles smiled gently. “I still have friends in high places. Now get back into your bed. You have classes tomorrow, remember?”

“Do you think they’ll be able to help me?” You asked, figuring that the classes were more for people with physical powers. “Or that they won’t judge me?”

“They’ll help. I’ll make sure of it.” With that comfort in mind, you went under your covers, and rested your head upon the pillow.

“Thanks - for everything,” You said, realizing that he was holding one of your pieces. You had felt broken all of your life, and here was this kind man, taking care of you as if you were his daughter despite just meeting you.

“You’re welcome. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Charles.”

[finsterhund]

Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

[cabinofimagines]

It’s Delicate (Jason Grace xFem!Reader)

A/N: *Walks in with an iced coffee and sunglasses on* So you guys won’t believe the YEAR that I had, but I’m ending it on a good note and with Christmas specials, so the bad vibes can SUCK IT (also Jason and reader are like 20y/o in the story and for reasons they live in New York)

Words: 1,620

Warnings: Angst. But not really. Look, idk what I did but i TRIED- (this is not proofread so beware the mistakes.

Request: Can you pls do a Jason Grace x Reader? Where Jason says something during an argument that'll hurt the reader and they don't make up then Reader almost dies in an attack and he's going to think that it was probably the last thing he said to reader before reader dies but reader lives in the end. Really angsty, please? Lmaoi hope u understand what i just sent u // How about a songfic with Taylor Swifts delicate with Jason x reader?

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe?

Jason gets the call from Chiron five minutes after he gets home from the busy streets of the city.

Y/N was attacked while going on a quest on her own. Badly. He’s not sure she’ll make it.

He hangs up and sits on the couch, the shock of the news force him to stay still for a moment, trying to process what his old mentor just said.

Y/N was attacked.

She won’t make it.

And all he can think about is how the last thing he said to her was “Sometimes I wonder why are we still together.”

He fucked up, Y/N stormed out of their bedroom and left the apartment without a word, He’d assumed she was staying at camp since it was the second place she thought of as her home besides their place. He hadn’t visited her all those days cause he thought it was better if he kept his distance for a while, they would make up before Christmas anyway.

Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

Jason spends the next hour calling Piper and Leo, the panic slipping through his voice while he tells them he has to go to camp but he doesn’t want to be alone cause Y/N is dying and he can’t do it, he can’t say goodbye like this. His friends tell him that they’ll be there in a couple of hours and that he just has to be strong in the meantime and go over at camp, that he can’t lose hope yet, cause Y/N might still survive.

He picks up a pair of dark jeans and his shoes, he changes quickly and grabs the keys of his car, passing by the mirror on the entrance. He stops to look at his reflection. It surprises him how utterly devastated he looks after a few hours of contemplating the possibility of losing his girlfriend. 

This scares him, he doesn’t want to know how will he look after a month without Y/N.

He stops a taxi and tells them indications of where they need to drive. The driver gives him a weird look but says nothing, obeying after Jason shows him the few dollars he has with him. 

While he’s inside the car with nothing else but his own thoughts, he can’t help but think of her, of how stupid he was when they fought.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet?

“Jason for the last time, can you please just clean the table when you’re not working on your project?” Y/N asks, pushing away some blueprints and accidentally dropping some on the floor.

“Hey, can you at least be careful with those?” Jason retorts, standing up from the couch and leaving his laptop abandoned on the coffee table, “if I lose one the gods that are left with no altars will hunt me down”

“Well, is not my fault that you’re so messy,” She groans, sitting in front of her plate and staring at him, “I don’t like that you spend so much time doing those, you’ve been on this project since we were seventeen, Jason. You have to finish it.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” He grumbles, harshly taking the blueprints from the table and walking away towards their room, “I work all the time so i can finish and you stop bickering about it.”

“Bickering?” Y/N asks offended, “excuse me? I’m just worried about you!”

“Really? Cause it sounds more like you’re tired of me” He replies from the bedroom.

Y/N stands up and goes to the room, she sees Jason there, carefully putting the blueprints inside a drawer.

“I’m not tired of you, don’t be stupid,” She crosses her arms, “I’m just sick of seeing these all over the house, why don’t you keep them in one place?”

“Cause they’re too many.”

“Well take some to camp, I know they’ll be safe back there.”

“I can’t, I need to have them with me in case I have to make changes.”

“Changes?” She huffs, “Jason, they don’t need changes, they need to be done.”

“I know that!” He groans, finally turning around and frowning, “it’s easy for you to say it, you’re not doing anything, you just go to school and come back here to eat and sleep, oh, how busy is your life.”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorts, “you don’t know all the assignments I have to do to keep my good grades. And I wasn’t judging your productivity, by the way, but you’re just stressed and in a bad mood, so whatever, I’m not gonna fight with you.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna fight? You were the one who started,” He scowls, “you come home and you complain, we do nothing but fight and argue about the altars. Gods, sometimes I even wonder why are we still together.”

Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you

He arrives at camp at midnight, the snow outside the limits of camp cuts short where Thalia’s tree is, a clear sign of magic. He walks fast towards the big house, luckily for him, no harpies try to eat him and he gets to the door safely. He pushes it open.

“Chiron?” He asks out loud, “Mr. D?”

He walks towards the stairs and goes to the second floor, immediately he sees the light coming from one of the rooms on his right and get closer, opening the door without knocking.

Inside there’s a young demigod that he doesn’t know and Chiron in his wheelchair.

“You can go to sleep, Mylo,” Says the centaur, looking over at the young boy.

The demigod looks over at Jason in mild admiration. The younger groups do that a lot, knowing all about the prophecy of the seven, and how he and his friends saved the world. Jason gives him a polite smile and walks in, holding his breath.

Y/N is asleep, but her skin looks drained from any color and her lips look chapped. When he gets closer, Chiron starts to explain the situation.

“Y/N was in a mission to get rid of a group of Cyclops, one of their arrows went through her abdomen and another went through her shoulder blade. She got to escape and call for help but when we found her she was unconscious... Mylo did all he could to take care of her, he’s Apollo’s.”

Jason sat miserably on the chair where Mylo was moments ago, he carefully reached to touch her hair, with erratic movements he put a strand behind her ear and then held her hand tightly like it was the only thing keeping her tied to the mortal world.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Chiron left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Jason felt helpless, it all looked so definitive like everyone already had accepted Y/N’s death. He couldn’t, as long as her breathing was steady, he would have hope and he was determined to wait forever.

He needed her to stay.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me?

Two days had gone by and Y/N showed no sign of waking up, Leo and Piper made sure to leave food so Jason would eat, sometimes even staying in the room with him and trying to cheer him up, but Jason never really paid attention to what they were saying, his eyes were on her all the time, waiting, hoping to see her move, or even talk in her sleep, anything that could let him know she was still alive.

Was she dreaming? If so, about what... was her mortal life or her demigod life? 

Did she dream about him? Maybe forgave him, or maybe she would once she woke up to him sitting next to her bed, always waiting for her. All he knew was that he was ready to say anything just to get her back, he would stop working, he would drop anything just to be able to see her smile one more time.

Yeah, I want you

It was Christmas Eve when the Gods heard his prayers.

His eyes opened slowly, the dim light passing through the window warmed the room, barely, since he still felt cold on the tip of his fingers. A distant whimper stirred him up, and it became stronger as he straightened up on his chair, staring at the girl without fully comprehending, his mind too fuzzy.

Then, Y/n opened her eyes, she frowned and tried to cover her face from the sun, but her hand was intertwined with Jason’s. When she felt it, her stare fixed on him.

“Jason?” She asked in a hoarse voice, “what..?”

“You’re awake,” He whispered.

Before she could add another word, Jason started rambling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. What I said was stupid, and you were right, I was stressed and moody, and you were just worried... then you left...”

“Jason, I... I died?”

“No,” He shook his head, voice trembling, “no, you’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I...” Y/N stares at the bruises on her arms and the bandages around the torso, “I was reckless, going on my own. I’m sorry, I should’ve never...”

“You did what a demigod it’s supposed to do. You’re a hero. And I love you for that,” Jason lifted her hand carefully and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll always will. What I said, about not knowing why are we still together. It was a delicate subject but, I know now.”

Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) 'Cause I like you

“What is it, then?” His girlfriend asked quietly.

“It’s cause we want it that way,” He smiles, “because we’re meant to be. And I still like you so much...”

“I can’t argue against that,” She replied, with weariness, a faint smirk on her face.

“Yeah,” He grinned, cleaning the tears that were starting to fall, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

Jason could now say, he got his own Christmas miracle.

[klove0511]

The Only Way Out

Author: @klove0511​ Artist: @dwimpala-67​

Genre: Angst Pairing: Gen Rating: G Wordcount: 8108 Warnings: Major Character Death,  hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean, ghost!Sam, canon divergent after season 1 Summary: What if Sam had been the one left in a coma after the car accident?

Fic link: AO3

Art link: Tumblr

The world felt heavy, wrapped in wool and weighted to hold him down. Dean came to slowly, aware first of the sluggish response of his limbs, then more distantly aware of pain when he moved them. A steady, irritating beep told him he was in a hospital just as surely as the sterile smell of cleaning products or too white light over his bed. He struggled through the fog of opioids to remember what he'd done to land him here. What had they been hunting? Why was he alone? 

A glance at the window told him it was early morning, with the sky beginning to lighten and clear enough to promise warmth later. Still, the room was medical-building-chilly, and Dean was grateful for the blankets keeping him warm.

He felt his thoughts drifting, trying to piece together what had happened. Dean always hated when they put him on the really heavy pain meds because it became a struggle just to think. He didn't know where Sam was, but the fact that he was absent was concerning enough to cut through some of the haze. Dean remembered the last time he'd woken up in a hospital, after the rawhead incident, and Sam had been there nonstop, except when he couldn't be. The cops had pulled him out of the room for questions, the doctors had shooed him away to let them poke and prod Dean in peace, and one nurse in particular had enforced the hospital's visiting hours to make sure Sam went back to the motel long enough to get some sleep. But all of that had been after Dean woke up. Sam should be here, now. So where was he?

Unfortunately, the fog of the drugs was already pulling him back down into sleep, no matter how he fought to stay awake. A burst of cold from the air conditioning made him shiver, and as he drifted off he swore he could hear Sam saying he’d stay until Dean woke up, though he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

 When Dean woke again, the sun shone brightly through his window, warming the room almost to an uncomfortable level. A nurse was taking his vitals, and he was pretty sure she said something about going to get a doctor. Maybe. Waking up in a hospital was worse than a killer hangover.

He grayed out for a minute, but when he was able to refocus, he was already feeling clearer than the last time he’d been conscious. The nurse was back with a dude in a lab coat, who Dean assumed was a doctor.

Dean didn’t bother waiting for the doctor to ask him anything. “Where’s Sam?”

The doctor didn’t answer the question right away, which annoyed Dean. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He’d meant it to be sarcastic, but judging by the reactions he got from both the doctor and the nurse, that was pretty close to what had landed him in the hospital. That knowledge did nothing to lessen the anxiety he was feeling over Sam’s continued absence. Already feeling sleep pulling him down again, he tried once more, wishing he didn’t sound so much like he was begging. “Please, where’s my brother?”

This time, the doctor took pity on him. “Your father is visiting him now.”

 John listened to Sam’s doctor explaining the extent of his injuries with only half his mind. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, broken beyond repair, and that was all he needed to know. He was going to lose his son, but the demon's plans for Sam were over. He was ashamed to admit there was a sliver of relief in the chaotic emotions running through him. At least now Sam would be safe, and John’s worst fears could be laid to rest.

But beyond the fleeting relief and acceptance, there were the beginnings of grief. More than anything, he wanted a drink or four, but he couldn't do that yet. Later, he would drink himself into oblivion, but first he had to tell Dean. He grimaced. Dean was going to be devastated and telling him was going to be painful. At least John was being granted a reprieve from that duty for now, as Dean still hadn’t woken.

In the meantime, he had business to attend to, and while he hated himself for feeling this way, he was grateful for the distraction. He took one more look at Sam’s still form and murmured, “I’m sorry, son.” Then he pulled out his phone and pulled up Bobby’s number as he exited the hospital.

 At the junkyard an hour later, John sifted through the wreckage, looking for the Colt. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, but he was doing his best to ignore his friend.

“What are you doing out here, John?” Bobby asked, his voice less accusing than it could have been.

John didn’t answer immediately, but he stopped what he was doing, too. “I’m looking for the gun that’ll kill the thing that killed Mary and put my boys in the hospital.” He wondered, briefly, if his voice sounded as dead as he felt inside.

Bobby scoffed at his answer. “Hell, I could have done emptied the car. Those boys need you to be there for them right now.”

John swallowed down irritation at Bobby presuming to know what his sons needed. He was a good friend, but this was an old argument between them. Bobby had always tried to step in and be the father he thought John failed to be. “Didn’t want to put you out like that. Besides, they aren’t awake yet. No reason I couldn’t do this myself.”

Bobby paused before answering, and John wondered if there was going to be more commentary on his parenting forthcoming. Luckily it seemed there wasn’t going to be when Bobby said, “What do you want to do with the car, then? Don’t seem worth a tow.”

John extricated himself from the wreckage, having found the gun he was looking for. Taking a step back, he surveyed the twisted remains of the Impala. “It’s Dean’s now. I say tow it to your place until he’s ready to work on it. And if he doesn’t want to fix her up, then scrap her.”

Ignoring Bobby’s silent sympathy, John walked away from one of the last remnants of his life with Mary and toward the rental car that would take him back to the hospital and Dean.

 By the time John arrived, Dean had declined most of his dinner—opioids made him nauseous—and talked himself down from two panic attacks about Sam. He'd gotten the nurse to confirm that they had, in fact, been hit by a truck, and now that Dean thought about it, he was pretty sure he remembered the sound of breaking glass. Once he started to access the memory, he could remember bits and pieces from before the accident—his dad possessed by the demon, Sam shooting their dad in the leg, feeling woozy from blood loss. Piecing together his memory was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about Sam, until his dad appeared in the doorway.

His dad looked haggard, weary in a way Dean hadn't seen before. He was on crutches and sported some impressive bruising, but seemed uninjured otherwise. 

"Good to see you awake, son," he said.

"You too, sir." Dean swallowed nervously. "How's Sam?"

His dad's face morphed through half a dozen emotions before settling into careful neutrality, and the bottom dropped out of Dean’s stomach. "Sam is in a coma. It’s bad.” 

Dean breathed slowly, deeply, fighting the panic that had been hounding him all day. "He's dying." When John didn't answer immediately, Dean spat, "Isn't he?"

John’s face was a damn mask, revealing nothing, and his even tone was no better. "We don't know. The doctors say they've done all they can, and it's up to Sam now."

Dean nodded, then rasped, "So what are we going to do?"

John was silent for a long time. Too long, in Dean's opinion. "We aren't going to do anything, Dean."

“What?”

John’s face darkened. His dad didn’t like being questioned, but Dean didn’t understand. He knew that finding a legitimate healer was a long shot, but Sam had done it. He’d even done it alone; Dean hadn’t been in any position to help, and John sure as hell hadn’t been around. The two of them together, maybe with Bobby’s network to help, had much better odds of finding a hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on his brother.

 John had left angry, but Dean was furious. His dad wanted to “let nature take its course,” which was a load of bullshit. They had access to resources the doctors didn’t, things that could save his brother. They might normally hunt most of those resources in the name of the greater good, but this was different. This was Sam.

Dean sat in a wheelchair by Sam’s bed, trying not to stare at the bandages around his brother’s head. He shivered, remembering the doctor listing off Sam’s injuries.

"Sam suffered a severe blow to the head during the accident. He also sustained several broken ribs and crush injuries from the steering column. We repaired the broken ribs with pins, and we placed a chest tube to reinflate his right lung, which had been punctured by one of his ribs. We were also very concerned about the degree of brain swelling, and during surgery we removed a portion of Sam's skull to help alleviate the pressure."

Dean stared at the tubes practically covering every inch of his brother and tried to imagine part of his skull missing underneath the white bandages swaddling his head. Sam was going to be pissed when he woke up. They'd shaved his head to do the surgery. "How's he doing now?"

The doctor shook his head. "He has remained unresponsive, which is not an encouraging sign, but he's stable at the moment. That said, he is a fighter. Most patients would not have survived even this long with his degree of injury. "

Of course he was a fighter. He was a Winchester.

The doc had been sympathetic, but all Dean could focus on was the idea that Sam was a real life Humpty Dumpty, and try as they might, the doctors couldn’t put him back together again. He needed more than they could offer, and that wasn’t considering the possibility of long-term complications from his injuries. He needed a miracle. But it was perfectly, explicitly clear that John wasn’t going to help and didn’t condone Dean wanting to intervene. He didn't know how he was going to do this behind his dad's back, but he would. He'd find something.

Maybe, if he managed to find something innocuous enough, his dad would come around and help. His gut clenched, and he knew he didn't really believe it, but he could hope. He wasn't going to lose his brother again. 

He believed that about as much as he believed the flickering lights in Sam’s room were due to bad wiring.

 As soon as Dean was released from the hospital, he went to Bobby's place. The Impala was there with all of their stuff.

All of Sam's stuff.

Dean sighed, surveying the car. It was a mess, the frame twisted beyond recognition.  The driver’s side was crushed, and the door had been cut away to give the rescue team better access to Sam. There was dark staining on the seat that he knew had to be Sam’s blood. He looked away, throat tight.

He’d fix the car eventually, but the reason he’d come had been to grab his stuff and pull out anything he thought might be helpful in getting Sam back on his feet. His laptop was toast, and the Colt was gone. According to Bobby, John had come by yesterday and retrieved some gear, then taken off again. They both assumed he was back to chasing the Yellow Eyed Demon. Nothing like revenge for a son he hadn't even officially lost yet.

Heading inside, he grabbed a couple beers from Bobby's fridge. He found the hunter in his study, flipping through one of his dozens of books on the supernatural. "Thanks for bringing Baby here," he said, dropping into a chair. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sunbeams coming through the dirty windows, drawing Dean’s attention back out to the yard where his mangled childhood home sat.

Bobby looked up, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "What are you planning, idjit?"

Dean grimaced, wishing the older hunter couldn’t read him so well. "I can't leave Sam like this, you know that." He took a long pull from his beer and swallowed nervously. "I was hoping one of your contacts might know something."

" 'Bout the demon?" Bobby said cautiously.

Dean shook his head. "About a healer. Or a white witch or hoodoo priest or something. Anything that might help."

Bobby ran his hand down his face, stubble rasping as he rubbed his chin. "You know that's a long shot at best."

Dean studied the condensation gathering on the bottle as he picked at the label. "I know. But I gotta do something. He's my brother." He looked away, unwilling to watch Bobby pity him as he said, “Dad won’t help.”

Bobby watched him for a moment, then apparently saw whatever it was he was looking for because he replied, "We'll figure it out. How long you staying before you head back?"

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Not long. He's stable, for now, but the doctors—" 

When he didn't finish his sentence, Bobby grumbled and said, "Yeah, I know. Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. And before you say it, I know. You're not leaving him in that hospital by himself. I'm just saying my house is open, all right?"

Dean slumped back in the chair, some of the tension gone from his shoulders. "I talked to the doctor today about getting him transferred to Sioux Falls. They didn't love the idea, but they agreed to it when I said he'd be closer to family. Might be able to happen in a couple days, if—"

Bobby cut him off. "Then give me a call when you're on your way back, and I'll clear out the guest room. Don't think it's been used since the last time you boys stayed with me. And, in the meantime, I'll ask around about healers. Let you know if I hear something."

Dean's nod was small and tight; relief wasn't going to come until he had a lead to follow, but it was still nice to know that Bobby was in their corner. 

 Dean stood in the doorway to Sam's new room. He was still on a ventilator, though most of the bandages had been removed that morning. Sam was pale, gray tinged, and a far cry from the California-tan he'd been just a few months ago. In the week he'd been hospitalized, Dean could tell he was already losing muscle mass. If Dean managed to pull this off, then Sam was still going to have a long road ahead of him before he was back to normal. But at least he'd be alive, Dean reasoned. 

He was greeted by a cool breeze when he crossed the threshold and finally entered the room, like every other time he'd come to visit. It didn't matter how many times he asked the staff at the old hospital, the temperature in his room was perpetually freezing. The idea of the problem following Sam across state lines made his stomach turn. 

The plastic chair creaked when he settled in, and he tried to ignore how Sam's shaved head made him look like an alien. The problem was that, like a train wreck, he couldn't look away. Finally, he sighed and said aloud, "Damn, Sammy. I cannot believe you were right about that hair all this time." He shivered, and he would have sworn the temperature dropped another couple degrees, but he kept talking. "I know I gave you a lot of crap about it over the years. But you were absolutely right. You look better with long hair. And I don't mean that just because you're a giant girl." He paused, waiting. When nothing happened, he mentally kicked himself. Of course nothing happened. Sam wasn't dead. He wasn't a ghost; he was a dude in a coma. 

"Anyway," he continued, "I found a spell that’ll work, but, uh, I don't think you're gonna like it." The lights and monitors picked that moment to flicker, and an alarm sounded that brought the nursing staff running. 

Dean stood out of the way, watching tensely as they did their job checking Sam, his equipment, and the monitors. It wasn't the first time it had happened during a visit, but it never stopped being nerve wracking. What if something important shorted out this time? It was one of the reasons he had worked so hard on getting Sam transferred up to Sioux Falls General. Now it was happening here too. The twist in his gut kept telling him it wasn't faulty equipment that produced the shorts, but he refused to believe it. Sam wasn't dead, damn it. 

It's better this way.

When the room had cleared out again, Dean resumed his position in the chair by the bed. "Like hell this is better," he muttered to himself. He sighed and scrubbed his face. "Like I was saying, I found something in one of the books I grabbed from Bobby’s before you got transferred. It's a spell, for binding a reaper." 

The temperature in the room plummeted until Dean’s breath was ghosting in front of his face. No.

"I know," he said, his voice gruff and quiet. "I don't like it either. But I have to do something. We know this works. And, yeah, we know the cost, so I'll figure it out. I— Whatever I might be willing to do, I know you would never forgive me if I saved you at someone else's expense. I'll figure it out, ok? Maybe it can target a monster, or something, yeah? Something we'd be killing anyway?" 

Nothing from the peanut gallery. 

"Fine, be a bitch about it. I won't do the spell." He ground his teeth together, hating that he was giving in to, what? A broken air conditioner? "Not unless I'm out of options. Ok, Sam?"

The lights flickered, but none of the other equipment was affected this time, thankfully. Dean took it as agreement, and he left to hit the books again.

 The next day, he got a call from one of Bobby's contacts about a faith healer that was supposed to be the real deal.

He looked into the healer John Rogers, checked for suspicious deaths, unusual money transfers, anything that might indicate he was a fraud or of the same ilk as the pastor's wife Sue Ann from that case in Nebraska. The financials came back squeaky clean, but Dean's gut told him there was something he was missing. He was only an hour away, though, so against his better judgment he stopped in for one of the guy's services. 

The tent was crowded, like he remembered from the last time. It was a different preacher, but the same crowd, the same stale air with just a hint of desperation. It was too hot with the press of bodies and lack of air conditioning, and Dean wished he'd skipped the flannel overshirt. The murmur of the crowd made it near impossible to listen in on any conversations, but they seemed excited, optimistic. Well, he supposed any hope was better than none. Not like he could relate. 

However, where the pastor in Nebraska had been earnest, this guy felt like a used car salesman. From his first words, Dean felt slimy just being in the same room as the guy, even though he hadn't said anything more troubling than 'welcome, new and old patrons alike.'

Dean leaned forward in his seat, trying to relax but appear attentive. His attention wasn't entirely focused on the sermon, though.  He watched the guy, sure, but he also watched the crowd. Dozens of people were in the tent, some with obvious ailments and some without. He focused on maladies easy to fake—people in wheelchairs or wearing sunglasses and hugging a stick—and then watched to see if any of them triggered his Spidey senses. Years of practice conning people had made both him and Sam experts on spotting it in others. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he spied three or four people in the crowd that seemed likely to be plants. 

Sure enough, after the dude got done wailing and mumbling as he "spoke in tongues" as the "Spirit moved through him" he called for people that needed healing. Half the crowd erupted into noise, but the first person he selected was one of the ones Dean had spotted—the blind woman. The whole scene played out exactly like he expected, and he made to leave.

"Why are you leaving?" he heard the pastor call out over the din.

Dean paused, unsure if he even wanted to bother engaging the guy. 

The pastor made the decision for him by continuing to talk. "I'm sorry for your loss. But I can't help your brother."

Dean whirled, eyes flashing and hand automatically moving to his gun.

The preacher smirked, and for a second, Dean wondered if the guy was just that good at reading body language. He'd seen Sam pull a similar trick two or three times. 

"If you can't help him, then why does it matter if I leave?" he finally said, slowly easing his defensive stance.

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Rogers said nothing more as Dean made his exit.

 Armed with new knowledge, Dean would have to resume his research. First thing was to learn more about the woman who had been "healed." His instincts screamed bullshit, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. He found a good spot to wait, and when the service was over he followed the woman. He had to give her credit, she kept up the charade even after she exited the tent. Every few moments she'd stop and look around, an expression of awe on her face. He almost believed it. 

He slipped back into the crowd, keeping a casual distance from the woman as she moved through the parking lot. They wove through the cars, and he realized that she was alone. No one was walking with her, chatting about her newfound sight. Leading her to their car. Damn, he'd been right. It was confirmed when she dug through her purse and pulled out keys that she used to unlock a shitty looking Volvo. Dean just managed to catch the license plate number before she drove out of sight.

Back at his motel, Dean ran the plates, found the woman, and dug deep into her financials. The trail was hard to find, but, now that he knew it was there, he did manage to find it: small, irregular cash payments deposited into her bank account starting six months ago. Never more than $100 at a time, and never more than twice a month. He didn’t think it was enough money to justify lying to so many people, but it wasn't really up to him to judge in this case. For good measure, he also uncovered as much medical history as he could on the lady and was utterly unsurprised to find zero references to blindness in her files. However, he didn't uncover an explicit link between her and the preacher. He was sure he would if he kept looking, but that wasn't important anymore. The guy was a fraud healer, but he still knew something. Dean needed to find out if that something was information that could help Sam.

 The heat of the day was just starting to fade when Dean knocked on the preacher's door. He lived in a nice neighborhood by most people's standards. Dean thought it was mind-numbingly dull, but hey, maybe it was better than it looked. The man didn't even look at Dean when he opened the door, just gestured him into the house. 

"You're psychic," Dean said as he settled himself into an overstuffed chair that was more comfortable than it looked. 

"I am." He sat down on the couch across from Dean.

"And a fraud. Is your name even John Rogers?"

Rogers smirked. "You know the answer to that." He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "I wasn't lying before. I can't help your brother."

"But you do know something," Dean accused.

The preacher sighed. "I know what's in your head right now—he's  in a coma, dying a slow death. You came here on the slim chance that I was the real deal. Sorry that didn't work out for you."

Strangely enough, Dean believed the guy actually was sorry, but he didn't buy that Rogers didn't know anything else. Sam was the one who could sweet talk witnesses into giving up info, though, so Dean went with his tried and true method when working alone: stony silence with a hint of aggression.

Rogers rolled his eyes. "Fine. I may have heard of something. I didn't look into it—no need for myself—so it may be another wild goose chase." He stood, moving to pour himself a drink from the sidebar. He didn't offer Dean one.

Dean waited as patiently as he could. This guy could be jerking him around for all he knew, but he didn’t think so, and his instincts hadn't been wrong yet. 

With an excessive number of dramatic pauses, he finally told Dean about a spell. It was supposed to be ancient and powerful. Could practically bring people back from the dead. He didn't have much more than that, but he told Dean to look in an old grimoire called The Magus. Dean hadn't heard of it before, but he was sure it would be a bitch to find.

 John considered letting his phone go to voicemail until he saw that it was Bobby calling. There were a very limited number of reasons why that self-righteous dick might be calling him, and he knew better than to think Bobby would leave that sort of news in a voicemail. He took a deep breath, burying his grief as far as he could before he flipped open the phone. “Winchester.”

Bobby’s gruff voice didn’t sound devastated, just annoyed, and John breathed a little easier. It wasn’t Sam then. “You need to get your ass back here, John. Dean needs you.”

“Dean doesn’t want me there.” It hurt to admit that, but he couldn’t blame his son. When the demon had possessed him, he’d seen its plans for Sam, and it had been a confirmation of everything he’d learned over the last twenty years. He hadn’t told Dean what he knew, and if John had his way then Dean would never know.

Bobby grumbled, “His brother’s dying. Of course he wants you here. Now, I don’t know what damn fool thing you said, and I don’t care. He’s going after The Magus, John. Says there’s some spell in it should be able to heal Sam.”

John felt his jaw clench so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth. “He’s going to get himself killed trying to do a spell like that.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m calling you? Boy’s aiming to commit suicide by magic, if he can find the book. If we find it first, then maybe I can convince him to let me do the spell, but we both know that’s a long shot too.” Bobby sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we might find a medieval grimoire, do you?”

John closed his eyes. “No, but I’ll work it out. I’ll call when I’ve got something. Watch out for Dean.” He didn’t wait to hear Bobby’s reply before he hung up. The man was probably just going to chew him out for not agreeing to head to Sioux Falls immediately.

He looked out the window and saw storm clouds blowing in off Lake Michigan. Dean hadn’t backed off like he should’ve, and now John was going to have to act. He couldn’t let the demon’s plans come to fruition, and he wasn’t going to let Sam suffer because of their selfishness. It was the least he could do. The room blurred as the first drops of rain fell, and John started to work out what could be done to stop Dean.

 It had been two weeks of spinning their wheels looking for the grimoire, and they were no closer to the book than they had been originally. Dean flipped through one of Bobby’s books, frowning at the page. This one seemed familiar. A glance at the spine revealed why. He’d read it already. Twice. Sighing in frustration he tossed the book onto the “dud” stack and slumped in his seat, hands tugging at his hair.

They couldn’t afford to take much longer. Sam was deteriorating. The doctor had told him that just this morning; she’d said that the machines could probably keep him going indefinitely, but everything that made him Sam would be gone. It wasn’t a reality Dean was ready to face, and he’d stalked out of the hospital, not even staying for his usual bitchfest at the broken AC in Sam’s room. Just remembering it made anger—fear—coil tightly in the pit of his stomach, and he stood, sweeping the desk clear of the stacks of useless backs, a wordless scream escaping his throat.

Bobby walked in, holding two beers, and he surveyed the mess. Quirking an eyebrow at Dean, he said, “Take a break.”

Dean just stared back incredulously. “I don’t have time to take a break. Sam—”

“Is dying.” Bobby’s tone wasn’t harsh, but Dean flinched anyway. “I know. But you’re no good to him like this. We been through these books twice each, and we’ve got squat. So, go outside, take a break. Work on that car of yours for a bit and burn off some of that anger. Maybe something’ll come to you. I seem to remember cracking a case or two that way. Keep my hands busy enough to turn off my brain, but the problem still gets worked in the background.” He handed over one of the beers as Dean sulked past him to go outside.

He didn’t go to the Impala. Though he’d worked on her off and on for weeks now, it was always a painful reminder of what was happening to Sam. Today he wasn’t sure he could stand to see the wreck without falling apart, and he wasn’t allowed to fall apart until Sam was better. That had always been his rule when Sam was hurt or sick, and he clung to it now like a lifeline. Turning toward the back of the property instead, he started walking, already feeling better despite himself.

He had just reached the edge of the junkyard when his phone rang.

Dean stared at the caller ID in disbelief for a moment before answering. His dad was calling him, after weeks of radio silence. After abandoning Sam to die. He felt his rage reignite, but he kept his tone neutral as he answered. "Dad."

"Dean. I told you to leave it alone."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it, Bobby. "This is Sam, Dad. Not some random civilian. How can you just let him die like he means nothing? Where the hell are you?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Dean listened to his dad's sigh and rolled his eyes. The man could be a worse drama queen than Sam sometimes.

"Really? That's the answer you're going with?" Dean shook his head in disgust. "Guess Sam was right after all. You really don't give two shits about this family. It's all about your damn revenge."

"That's not fair, Dean." His tone was biting, cold. "Sam chose not to end this fight when he had the chance, and now I have to before the demon hurts anyone else."

Dean scoffed. He could hardly believe they were related. “Is that what this is about? Punishing me for telling Sam not to kill you? Or punishing him for listening?”

There was silence over the line for a long minute before John said, “That’s not why I left, Dean.” More silence. "I might have a lead on the grimoire you need. See you at Bobby's in two days." The phone beeped as John hung up without saying goodbye.

When he collapsed, sobbing, against a rusted-out Honda a minute later, he wasn’t even sure if they were tears of joy or grief.

 The lights flickered.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean said, settling into the seat by his brother. "Think I might have something promising, and Dad's helping."

Nothing. He glanced around the room. 

"Come on, man, don't be a bitch about it. I know you can hear me."

A cool breeze ruffled his hair.

"Because your lights flicker a thousand times whenever I talk to you. Which, by the way, cut it out. One of these days you're going to short out something important and croak. Also, because it's July and ten degrees colder in your room than the morgue. I feel bad for your nurses."

A gentle thump on his shoulder. Son of a bitch. Sam wasn't supposed to be able to touch him. Dean watched his brother's body on the bed and thought about just how much stronger he'd become over the last few weeks. It was a bad sign. He hadn't told Bobby or his dad about the fact that Sam was apparently haunting his hospital room. He already knew what they would say.

What's dead should stay dead.

"You aren't dead yet. And I'm not giving up on you." He stood and stormed out of the room before Sam could get another word in.

 John got out of his truck, but didn’t approach the house. Dean and Bobby were waiting for him on the porch, and Bobby had brought his shotgun out. It was easy to read the tension in Dean's shoulders, the anger simmering just under the surface. Christ, Dean had no idea how bad it was going to get, and he was already this mad. John was going to lose both of his sons today. 

The spell he’d faked was in his pocket, and he hated himself for what he was doing. But he was careful not to let his face betray him. Years of hustling poker successfully had taught him that his poker face was the best, and he relied on that skill now. Dean wasn't going to stop, that was clear now, so John had to be the one to make the hard choice.

For one dizzy, terrifying moment, he considered backing out and trying to help them find the grimoire. Then he thought of the demon, still out there and still planning. A demon that wanted to start the Apocalypse and use his son to lead an army of darkness. He didn't know how the demon intended to make Sam cooperate, but it didn't matter. He trusted that the demon would succeed eventually, probably by threatening Dean. There was only one sure way to save Sam from that fate, and this was it. His resolve hardened, and he resigned himself to Dean hating him forever. Knowing Sam was safe would be worth it. Maybe someday Dean would understand, even if John knew Dean would never be able to forgive him for this. 

"Dean," he said, voice gruff. He nodded at Bobby, but kept his eyes on his son. 

"Where have you been?" Dean demanded, his voice hard. He sounded grown up. Good. 

John put an easy smile on his face, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the air, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew Dean saw that, too, so he let it drop after a moment. "I was following some leads."

"You were hunting the demon. While Sam is laying in a hospital, dying."

"We've had this argument already."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "So? He's still dying, you're still hunting, and I'm still here, trying to put my family back together! At least tell me what this mysterious lead is."

John steeled himself, and reached into his back pocket. "It's not the whole grimoire, but I was told this came from The Magus. Sounds like something you might be interested in."

Dean eyed him warily, and John couldn't blame him. He'd flipped on this issue fast, and that had to have raised some alarm bells for Dean. It was no surprise Dean didn't trust him. Still, the boy was desperate. He accepted the fragile parchment, unfolding it and scanning the text. Dean couldn't read it, unless he had been studying archaic Greek lately, but John knew Dean would be able to piece together a basic idea of the spell just from the components. It was something he'd drilled them on, to help protect them from witches. 

Dean nodded to Bobby, and down went the shotgun barrel. John breathed a little easier at that. He never doubted that Bobby was willing to shoot him, especially after how they’d parted a few years back. With what he was about to pull, he probably deserved it, too.

"Come in, then, if you're staying," Bobby said, turning and walking back inside.

Dean raised his eyebrows in question, then joined Bobby. 

John lingered by his truck a moment more before following, grief already pooling in his chest.

 Bobby translated the spell while Dean sorted through their inventory of ingredients. More than once the old hunter added a location to the ingredient he read aloud, and Dean would make a run to the kitchen or the basement or the second guest bedroom, in the bottom box next to the dresser, wherever the item happened to be stashed in this old, cluttered house. John had grabbed a beer and puttered around for a few minutes, obviously uncomfortable, before saying he was going to the hospital and would meet them there. 

It felt like a miracle that they already had all the ingredients, and Dean said so after he retrieved the salamander tail and Bobby declared it the last ingredient. It was a surprisingly benign looking assortment of items, and it didn't seem possible to Dean that they could heal his brother. He believed in magic, obviously, but he always associated it with blood and entrails. It seemed, well, magical that a few bits and pieces in the right ratios could do something so powerful. It was weirder that his dad had brought him the spell. He'd been so adamant about letting nature take its course, and Dean wondered what had brought him around. A thought crossed his mind, and his skin crawled. He idly touched the top of one of the jars and said tentatively, "Does this seem too easy to you?"

Bobby looked up from the spell in front of him, eyes narrowed at Dean. "What are you thinking?"

Dean gave one quick shake of his head as he frowned, saying, "Nothing. Just." He shrugged a shoulder and looked out the window. "It's just like Dad to swoop in at the last minute and save the day. But. It's a weird way for him to do it, you know?"

Bobby nodded. "I never expected your daddy to be the one bringing spells here for us to cast, if that's what you mean."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Does it check out?"

Hesitating before he spoke, Bobby hemmed and hawed before saying, "I don't know. I've never seen a spell like this, and I've sure as hell never cast one. I can tell you that it looks like it ought to work, if I understand it right, but there's no way to know for sure without trying it."

"That just fills me with confidence, Bobby."

"Hey, you asked. You have a better option?"

Dean grunted. "You know I don't."

"I know you've got something in reserve, just in case." Bobby leveled him a look that told Dean he wasn't going to be able to hide behind denials.

Dean swallowed hard. "I do, but it's not a better option."

Bobby nodded, slowly, but didn't say anything.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I can make it work without killing someone."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Bobby's eyes were hard. "I know he's your brother, Dean, but—"

"I know. God, Bobby, I know." He scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. "I would though. If it came to it, then I would." 

"But?"

Dean shook his head, not willing to say that he promised his brother's ghost that he wouldn't. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let Sam go if this spell didn't work, and he wasn't sure he had the time it would take to pull the other spell together. 

 When Dean and Bobby arrived at the hospital, John was sitting in the chair by Sam's bed. Dean frowned, noting the overgrown stubble on Sam's chin. They hadn't been by to shave him yet, which meant it was more likely they were going to get interrupted. At best, that would lead to a number of awkward questions, and at worst it could disrupt the spell. He mentioned it, but John scoffed.

"It'll be fine, Dean. The nurse was just in to check on him, and she said she would be back in an hour. No interruptions until then."

Dean frowned but didn't argue. If John thought they were safe to do the spell then they probably were. 

Bobby was the most experienced of them with spell work, so he did the spell. Dean watched him like a hawk, stomach flipping nervously the whole time. John's face was grim, but he stayed silent, letting Bobby work. The foreign words droned on, and Bobby added a pinch of this, a jar of that, then more chanting. Dean could feel the energy in the room building, and his eyes darted to Sam. The monitors showed no change, of course, but the lights flickered aggressively as the chanting picked up speed. Dean silently begged Sam to cool it, to keep calm until the spell did its thing. 

It's not going to work, Dean.

Dean set his jaw. It had to work. Not working wasn't an option.

Please, let me go.

He glared at his brother. That wasn't an option either, not while Dean was still breathing. He wasn't going to fail Sam. Not when Sam had come through for him last year.

His brother sighed, and he could imagine the epic eye roll that accompanied it. You're going to be so pissed at Dad when this doesn't work.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his brother again. The air was cooling rapidly, not a great sign for Sam's mental health at the moment. But his dad and Bobby seemed oblivious, and with the way the energy swirled through the air, he knew the spell was almost done.

Bobby threw in the last ingredient, and there was a flash, a bang, and the building energy funneled into the center of the room before quietly dissipating. It was...underwhelming. 

Dean looked at Sam, at the monitors and held his breath, waiting for any sign at all that he was waking up. There was nothing. If anything, Dean thought the vitals readout was worse than before. Sam was breathing too fast, heartbeat too rapid for someone peacefully asleep. 

He turned on the other two in the room. "Why didn't it work? We had all the ingredients, right, Bobby?" 

Bobby looked stricken, but he nodded. "I read it exactly as it was written. You know I wouldn't half-ass this."

Dean clamped down on his anger as best he could. He did know. Sometimes spells just didn't work. Maybe Bobby wasn't powerful enough. Maybe they needed a real witch to cast the spell. 

Then John said, "You knew this was a long shot at best," and Dean gaped at him.

He understood, on some level, that this was John trying to be supportive. His dad had never been an emotional guy, never one to soothe with words. But this felt like he was writing Sam off all over again. Sam was dying, actively now, and John just...didn't care. Dean didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He wanted his dad to be devastated by this.

Where did you get that spell anyway? It sounded like someone cobbled a bunch of random garbage together and called it finished. The tenses didn't even match through most of it.

That's when Dean put it together. 

"You did this, didn't you?" he said, voice frigid and too calm. "You did something to the spell. That's why you didn't bring the book. Not some bullshit about it being too closely guarded in a library or not wanting to set off some crap alarms. You've never had a problem breaking and entering before." Dean shook his head furiously. "I didn't see it before. I didn't want to. But Sam was always right, wasn't he? He never mattered as much to you as the hunt. As getting revenge for Mom. And now you killed him." Dean closed his eyes, unable to even look at John anymore. "Why? Because he didn't take the shot in that cabin?"

When John finally spoke, his voice was brittle. "I know you won't be able to hear this now, Dean, but it was never like that. Someday, I hope you'll understand. This was for the best."

"Get out," Dean said, watching Sam's chest shallowly rise with each breath. He hoped John could hear the threat under the words. 

An hour later, Dean watched as Sam struggled to breathe. There was no more time to pull together that spell. John had been thorough. Bobby had gone home, looking for the binding spell at Dean's desperate request, but it was gone from Dean's research pile. Worse, he'd signed the papers to remove Sam from life support before they'd even done the stupid spell. According to the hospital, that meant Dean could do exactly nothing, despite the fact that John hadn't shown his face in the hospital for weeks and Dean had been visiting Sam daily.  He felt hollow, wondering what life would be like without his brother at his side. He thought it might be like when Sam was at Stanford: hunting alone or with the occasional hunter acquaintance. He resolutely ignored the burning in his eyes, even as Sam's body blurred in front of him. It wasn't going to be like that. Maybe once in a while he would be able to forget, to fool himself into believing Sam was alive and safe and just away, but most of the time he would know. He imagined the passenger seat of the Impala, empty again. His heart clenched. 

Sam was already gone, and he knew that. The body on the bed had been empty since the first time he'd seen the lights in this room flicker. Sam had been haunting him for weeks. They were just waiting for it to be official. 

The monitor screeched, jerking Dean's attention up and away from Sam. His breath caught in his throat; Sam was flat-lining. A doctor that had been lurking outside the door quietly came in and turned off the alarm. She checked Sam's vitals manually, checked the time, and announced that Sam had died at 2:48 pm. It was quiet, efficient. Dean didn't understand how she could do that, just say a person—Sam—was dead, and then continue on with her day like the world hadn't ended. 

 Dean refused Bobby's offer to help build the pyre. This was his job. And if it took a little longer because he was working alone, so much the better. He lifted the body wrapped in white linen. His brother. He lifted his brother, and placed him on the pyre. 

Hours later, Dean stared at the burning pyre, numb to all feeling. He'd failed. The hollow pit in his stomach threatened to turn to nausea as he watched Sam burn. The gentle thump against his arm that alerted him to Sam's continued ghostly presence just made the sick feeling grow. John was going to pay for this.

[lifblogs]

Whumptober 2020 No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

Toxic

Somehow, Dean wasn’t dead.

Maybe that wouldn’t last.

Mercifully, Sam was cutting him down from where he’d been strung up by demons. And he collapsed over his brother, wheezing too badly to be able to hold himself up. The fucking sons of bitches had tortured him, but not in the way he was used to with a beating or a knife. It was in a creative way that Alistair hadn’t been able to do down in Hell since it involved chemicals.

Fucking great.

If Dean was feeling much better, he’d mutilate the bodies, but the black-eyed bitches were already gone: courtesy of Sam.

“Dean, I got you. I got you.”

Dean coughed, then seemed to choke on that cough.

He just groaned, nodding his head.

Air rattled in and out of him.

“Water,” Dean begged.

“Okay, I have water. Just let me get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Dean nodded, despite how the lack of oxygen made him dizzy, and Sam hauled him to his feet. Dean’s vision blurred, his head spinning, but he walked. Somehow he walked. And time stretched on and on, every breath hurting, his nose and lips feeling like they were burning. But he made it to the Impala.

“What’d they do to you?”

Dean motioned to his face, which might actually have been burnt. “Put chemicals on cloth… made me breathe it in.”

A wince came from his brother.

Sam left, going to the cooler in the back, and soon he was back over, pouring water over Dean’s face.

“Okay, have to do your nose,” Sam said. “Whatever they used, it burned you up a bit.”

Dean held his breath, even when it felt like his lungs were going to pop, and let Sam clean his nose. Then Sam was gently dabbing at his face with his sleeve.

Sam passed him the water bottle. “Alright, rinse your mouth out.”

Dean did just that, Sam supervising him, and holding him steady so he wouldn’t fall over forward onto the cement.

Too bad that fucking angel Castiel wasn’t around. Dude could probably heal him in a heartbeat. The question was: Would he?

Probably not. That dude had a stick up his ass and a hard on for God’s will. Dean wasn’t part of that at the moment, he seemed. There wasn’t anything Castiel needed him to do, so he wouldn’t be getting any help. Of course people only cared about him when he was useful.

Dean was handed a new bottle of water, one he could drink from. And then he was helped to move his legs into the car, and he and Sam were on their way.

As the miles stretched by beneath the rolling tires, Dean’s breaths came a little easier. Something was still wrong though.

But he was fine.

He had to be.

“You know, I’m proud of you.”

Sam shot him a confused glance. “What?”

“You didn’t grab a straw and drink the Kool-Aid.”

Sam let out a huff, and then said, “Since you’re hurt, I’m gonna let that slide. But you’re a bitch.”

Dean argued, voice almost a whine, “You’re the bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Better.”

“Whatever. As long as you let me get you to a hospital.”

“Sam, you try to take me to a hospital, and I’m putting you in one.”

Lovely. His brother looked at him when they were at a red light. Dean met that look, still feeling woozy. A weird, crackling sound was leaving him from his abdomen, a little lower than his stomach. He been tortured enough, and had held the knife enough times himself to know, that, yes, lungs did stretch all the way down there. They went all the way from the collarbones to the last rib. And his didn’t seem to want to work right, but he was going to be fine. He was.

Right?

Maybe a small part of him was panicking about the way his fingers were shaking, and the fact that his nails were a grayish-blue, but it was a part he didn’t want to listen to. If he’d listened to that part of himself in Hell, he wouldn’t have made it out with his little bit of remaining sanity.

“Yeah, nice try.” The light must’ve turned green, and the Impala purred underneath him, turning left at the intersection. “Doubt you could even pinch me right now.”

Dean cracked an eye open, reached out his hand, and did just that.

“Whatever. But you’re not winning a fight. You’re going.”

“Fuck y—”

“No,” his brother reprimanded him like he was talking to a disobedient dog.

That actually got Dean to shut up. That and the fact that the feeling of his lungs being close to popping with every inhale and exhale had just gotten worse. Dean’s hands tingled.

He struggled for breath each minute it took to get to the hospital, and before Dean knew it, he was in a wheelchair, Sam getting him in to the emergency room.

A nurse took one look at Dean and hurried him in front of all the other patients. Before he knew it, he had a room, and he was hooked up to an IV, medicine being injected into it, and there was a mask on his face. Oxygen. But something else too. It smelled kind of sour. It made him cough, and then he kept coughing. Sam tried to rush to his side, but the doctor held out his hand.

“The coughing’s good. It means the medicine’s getting in him. Alright, Mr. Winchester… deep breaths.”

Dean did just that, and it wasn’t long before he was asleep.

He woke up when the mask was gone, and ointment was being put above his lip.

Questions must have already been asked, and answered, papers having been filled out, because they didn’t bother Dean. And they didn’t bother Sam who was sitting in the plastic chair across from the bed.

Patients were wheeled by, some nurses working at the desk, and Sam went over and closed the curtains.

Dean was shuddering, maybe from the oxygen he’d breathed in in such a pure form, or maybe it was because he was starting to feel like he was going to be sick. The sweat on him suddenly felt so slick and disgusting. He tried to take deep breaths, but his body wanted to go into panic mode.

Sam took one look at him, and said, “He’s gonna be sick.”

The doctor called for a nurse, and before long, Dean was puking into a pink bucket. Blood came out with it, and when he coughed, the mucus was frothy, and pink.

There were tears in Dean’s eyes, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

He just laid back down, and tried to lose consciousness again. But he couldn’t this time. And he couldn’t breathe either.

God, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Dean tried to reach out to someone, to beg for help, but his lungs were full of needles, his head filled with cotton. Black spots were in his vision.

Dean lost consciousness.

And he stayed that way. He was blissfully unaware of the anesthesia given to him, of the tubes being put down his throat and into his lungs, of the ventilator he was hooked up to, of the bloodwork being done every four hours, of the medicines being injected to him, or puffed into the breathing tubes. He was asleep when the tubes were pulled out and they filled each lung with salt water, one at a time, to clean it out, was asleep through multiple x-rays.

It took days, almost a week, before Dean was out of his medical coma.

When he woke up, his throat hurt, but he realized he could breathe. And he was no longer in the ER room. This was his own room. Looked like he’d been admitted.

Dean wondered just how long he’d been out and what had happened to him. But he felt weak. Too weak.

Sam was sleeping by the bed, head leaning down against his chest as he sat in a leather chair in front of a window.

“Sammy,” Dean rasped, voice tearing at his sensitive throat. “Sammy.”

Dean couldn’t speak loud enough, so he smacked his hand against the bed.

That didn’t wake him up either.

Fuck, he needed something. He didn’t know what. Pain relief? Water?

Luckily, Dean found a button to call in a nurse on the side of his bed.

When she came in, Sam woke with a start.

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake,” she said to him.

Dean nodded, and looked over at Sam as she left. Sam went over to him, gripping the metal rail on the side of the bed.

“How you feelin’?”

“Like my lungs have been violated.”

Sam gently pat his chest, looking exhausted, as if he’d been crying, and losing sleep. There was a trembling in his fingers.

“At least you can say that.”

“What, doc not think I was going to make it?”

“You had to be on a ventilator, Dean.”

“Oh.”

“And they did tests and procedures. It was...”

Sam swallowed roughly, and Dean reached out, gripping his forearm.

“It’s alright, Sammy. I’m still here.” Sam said nothing, so Dean tried to meet his gaze. Those hazel eyes were so heavy, he found he could only do so for a second. He turned away, his hand falling. And he breathed one word, glad that he was breathing, that it barely hurt, that it wasn’t a struggle: “Thanks.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,804

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Dad? You in here?” you asked as you entered his house.

He wasn’t anywhere downstairs, so you figured he must be upstairs which is hard considering his situation.

“Here to yell at me some more?” he said from behind you. Jumping slightly, you turned to face him with tear-stained cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I did something bad,” you cried.

“What happened?”

“I did something very bad, and Dean doesn’t know but Sam and Castiel know, and if Dean finds out then he’s going to hate me,” you sobbed, falling onto the couch.

“What did you do?” he asked quietly, trying to be as delicate as possible.

“You’re going to hate me,” you whispered.

“I could never hate you.”

“I hate me.”

“Y/N, what did you do?”

“We got a problem,” Sam interrupted as he barged into the house. Looking up at the younger brother, he didn’t question your sadness since he knew what this was about. “Where’s Dean?”

“Right here. What’s going on?” he asked, coming in through the back door.

“Keep your damn voices down. Karen's upstairs,” your dad hissed.

“Oh, I'm sorry. We're a little tense right now.”

“Ezra Jones’ wife is dead. Well, re-dead. I had to kill her because she went rabid,” Sam panted.

“Who's old lady Jones?” Dean asked.

“The first one to come up,” your dad answered.

“First one to go bad,” you finished.

“Ah, she was always a nutty broad.”

“Nutty how? Nutty like the way she ate her husband's stomach? Was that the level of nutty she was in life?” Sam asked, giving your father a pointed look.

“No.”

“Look, Bobby, I feel for you. But you have got to acknowledge that you're not exactly seeing this straight!” Dean exclaimed quietly.

“Dad, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning. We have to stop them—all of them,” you sighed, wiping your tears off your face.

Dean saw this, but he decided not to question it right now. Your dad reached into his desk and pulled out a gun, resting it on his lap.

“Time to go.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Off my property.”

“Dad.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot?” Sam chuckled.

“If Karen turns, I will handle it my way.”

“This is dangerous,” you tried again.

“I'm not telling you twice,” he cocked his gun to tell you this was serious.

Exchanging looks with the brothers, you left the house without having to be told twice. If this is how he wants to behave, then so be it.

“He's crazy,” Dean scoffed as he drove down the road.

“It's his wife, Dean.”

“No, it isn’t, Sam. We’re his family. I’m his family!” you shouted.

“Look, bigger fish, okay? I mean, we got a bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant chew toy.”

“Yeah, and he's alone in the house making pie with one of 'em!”

“Okay, so?”

“So! I'm gonna have to go back there and… and… and kill her. That's the only thing I can think of,” Dean determined for you two.

“If he sees you, you're a dead man.”

“Luckily, I can fend for the both of us,” you argued.

“Okay. I'll head to town and rescue everyone—should be easy,” he scoffed.

“Sounds like.”

“I’m going to need some help.”

“What about the sheriff?” you suggested.

“Uh, last time I checked, the sheriff was pretty pro-zombie.”

“Well, I guess you'll just have to convince her,” Dean shrugged.

“How?”

“Use some of your charm, Sam. Just get it done,” you snapped.

After leaving Sam alone, you and Dean walked back to your dad’s house with shotguns. You didn’t know what would kill or harm these creatures, so Dean had the guns, and you had your magic. Entering his house, you didn’t see your dad or Karen anywhere. The kitchen was empty as well as the living room. The only place was upstairs and the back room, and your dad couldn’t even go up the stairs.

“Come on,” you whispered, your magic glowing dimly in case you might need it.

Taking a few more steps, you heard. A gunshot goes off in the back room, and you picked up the pace before barging in.

“Dad!”

“Bobby!” Dean yelled at the same time as you.

Your dad held his dead wife’s hand, but this time, she really was dead with a hole in her head.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. Sam needs our help,” you urged.

Dean wheeled Bobby out of the room and house with you in the lead. If there was anything out here, you would be the one to take it down first while Dean protected your dad.

“You know, Bobby, if you want to sit this one out…”

“Let's just get going,” he sighed.

Not far from the house, you heard a noise come from behind which indicated someone was coming.

“Stay here,” you whispered, leaving them to see who it might be.

There was no one here, but you felt eyes on you. A gunshot rang loudly, and you were going to go back to the men when you were tackled to the ground by a zombie. Yelling out in surprise, you thrusted a hand on his chest, using your magic to shove him off you. He went flying through the air and into the nearest car, but that did little to harm him. Pulling out your gun from behind, you aimed it at his head and shot him dead.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled for you.

“Dean!” you scrambled to get up and maneuvered through the lot of cars to get back to Dean.

Upon your arrival, you saw your dad out of his wheelchair, and a zombie tackle your boyfriend. Summoning up enough magic, you blasted the zombie and any more than seemed to come closer. From beyond the car, you could tell there were a lot more coming your way.

While you took care of the zombies with your magic and gun, Dean helped your dad back into the wheelchair.

“Go!” you yelled. “I’m right behind you!”

Dean wasted no time ushering your dad back to his house since that was the safest place to be right now. Your gun eventually ran out of ammo, and you used your magic to keep the zombies away until you could get into the house. Tripping up the back stairs, you fell into the house at the last minute, and Dean slammed the door shut and locked it. Groaning, you rested on the floor for a few seconds before getting up.

“Got any more ammo? I'm low,” you sighed.

“Yeah, we got plenty. Just run back past the zombies. It's in the van, where we left it,” your dad sassed.

“A simple ‘no’ would have been fine. What are they all doing here, anyway?”

“I think I get it.”

“What?” Dean asked.

There were too many zombies here at once, and without any ammo, you couldn’t kill them. Your magic could only do so much, and you needed to protect your dad and Dean. Zombies banged on the glass windows, shattering them and trying to get in. There were zombies on the roof who scratched at the wood to get in.

“Oh, that ain’t good.”

“I’m out,” Dean decided.

“Come on!” you yelled, leading the group to the nearest closet.

It was small and cramped, but it was safe at least for the time being. As soon as the door was closed, zombies began pounding on the door to be let in.

“Kind of a tight fit, don't you think?” your dad said.

“Can’t you do something?” Dean asked.

“I’ll kill both of you in the process. There are too many of them!”

“It's alright, they're idiots. They can't pick a lock,” Dean scoffed.

The pounding on the door stopped, and the door handle began moving as they did what Dean said they couldn’t do.

“Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?” you dad asked.

“I'm making this stuff up as I go. Sue me,” he groaned.

The door opened swiftly, and since you were closest to the door, you kicked and punched the zombies who tried to attack. Your eyes started to glow bright blue, but thank God Sam came at the last minute.

“Get down!” he yelled, him and Jody Mills started shooting all of the zombies. Lowering your head, you protected yourself from the bullets and shards until it was all over. Once every single one of them were dead, you looked at Jody and Sam with a dead look.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” you sighed.

In order to properly make sure none of these people would come back in any way, shape, or form, you helped build a pyre to burn all of the bodies hunter style.

“Well, if there's any zombies left out there, we can't find them,” you stated.

“How are the townspeople?” Sam asked Jody.

“Pretty freaked out. Hell, traumatized. A few of them are calling the papers. As far as I can tell, nobody's believed 'em yet.”

“Would you? How are you holding up?”

“Is that everyone?” Dean asked, motioning to the pyre.

Every single zombie was inside this thing… all except one.

“All but one,” you answered.

Dean understood what that meant, and you left with the brothers to join your dad’s side where he was in front of a single pyre with his dead wife in it.

“So, I’m thinking maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there,” your dad began to apologize.

“Bobby, you don't owe us anything,” Sam assured.

“Hey, I’m not a big expert on love, and the love I do have is enough for me, but at least you got to spend five days with her, right?” Dean asked, looking at you while he said it.

You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes when he said that, and you looked away almost immediately.

“Right, which makes things about a thousand times worse. She was the love of my life. How many times do I got to kill her?”

“Are you gonna be okay, Dad?”

“You three should know that Karen told me why Death was here.”

“She knew that? How?”

“He came for me.”

“What do you mean, you?” Dean wondered.

“Death came for me. He brought Karen back to send me a message.”

“You? Why you?” you wondered.

“Because I've been helping you, you sons of bitches. I'm one of the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam.”

“So, this was like a hit on your life?” Sam asked.

“I don't know if they wanted to take my life or my spirit. Either way, they wanted me out of the way.”

“That does mean shit, does it? You’re going to be alright, right?” you asked, but you received no answer from him.

Right?!

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[saltyandsassynomad]

I Am A Strong Woman But A Vulnerable Child

circa 1995

This was written during an English class of my freshman year of college.  We were tasked with coming up with a title or tagline for ourselves.  What is below is exactly what I wrote; no changes have been made. 25+ years later and sadly I have many of the same feelings.  

The life I live now started when my parents got divorced, that was back in the 4th grade, 1986.  My little sister and I went to live with my mother and my older sister went to live with my dad.  Everything seemed to be going OK until my mom lost her job. Come to find out from the other relatives, it was because she was getting a little too personal with the patients she worked with.  I never found out if it was true or not.  Before she lost her job she met this man named Dennis.  He was a veteran of the Vietnam War and an amputee so my mom took an instant liking to him.  Both my little sister, Michelle, and I went to meet him at the hospital (after my mom lost her job).  He was very friendly to us and us to him.  Shortly after that he went to Wisconsin to “take care of some business.”  We talked to him almost everyday and seemed to be getting really attached.  On one of our weekend visits to our fathers house, something happened to my sister Michelle.  She decided she didn’t want to go home to Mom.  WHen I got home there was a cop talking to my mom.  Apparently Michelle and Dad were pressing child abuse charges against my mom, claiming she hit us with extension cords, belts, coat hangers, etc.  It was all true but the funny thing was that both my parents did this to us when they were married.  I don’t know what made Michelle change her mind and to this day it is one thing I will also never know.  

When Dennis got back from Wisconsin he and Mom decided to get married.  They didn’t have any rings so they used foil and made some.  They went down to the city hall and got hitched.  During the ceremony Dennis was very much drunk.  That should have been the first clue something was wrong.  Back at our apartment Dennis continued to drink.  While drunk he would go around in his wheelchair banging into the walls, leaving holes, scratches, and all other kinds of marks.  This led to the eviction of our “happy little family.”  Mom and Dennis decided to move to Oregon to start again.  This would have been OK except mom's car just got repossessed.  Their first goal was to find a car.  Since we had 30 days to leave the apartment they went looking for a car while I was supposed to be cleaning the apartment. If the work wasn’t done up to my mothers standards by the time she got home she decided that she wasn’t going to say anything to me but instead just walk up backhand me.  I was 9 years old.  Well we eventually got to Portland, Oregon.  Since we had nowhere to live, Dennis went to the VA hospital and got himself admitted.  There was a man there that had a family and offered to let me stay with them while Mom and Dennis found somewhere else to stay.  My new room with the family I didn’t know was in the basement of their house.  Luckily there was a school down the street so I went and enrolled.  Missing my other family members again, my mom still insisting that they didn’t want anything to mdow th me.  She had already told me this before and now I believed her.  I mean she was my mother and they hadn’t made any effort to contact me (actually they had and my mother was hiding it all from me).  She had basically brainwashed into believing they hated me.  I stayed with this family for about 3 months when Mom & Dennis decided they were going to move back to California.  They left me with the family I was staying with so they could go back and get everything set up.  This was only one of the many times in my life where I was left behind for something better.  

After about 3 more months with this family, they decided they didn’t want me there anymore.  I got moved to a shelter for pregnant and runaway teens.  I was still in the 6th grade.  I stayed there for about 6 months before Mom & Dennis came to get me.  We ended up in Concord, CA.  At first we stayed with this “lawyer” guy that Dennis knew.  I came to find out later that Dennis knew him through their drug deals with each other. Finally we lived in an apartment in a not-so-good part of town.  I enrolled in school again and finally finished 6th grade.  All the while neither Dennis nor my mother have a job.  They use his disability and go begging at churches for food.  Welfare and food stamps were a big part of my life.  During this time the abuse got worse.  It was not only physical but also mental and verbal.  Luckily never sexual like my earliest years.  

There was a school closer to my house than the one I was going to.  I had to transfer and once again had to leave my old school friends behind and make new ones.  At my new school I met a girl named Laura.  At first weren’t that good of friends but later in my life she became an instrumental part of helping me survive.  The problems at my house were getting so bad I ended up spending Christmas eve with my neighbor and her family.  My mom would tell me that no one wanted me because I was dirty and disrespectful.  When we were kids we were taught to never disrespect someone so where she got this idea, I don’t know.  She would also let Dennis’ mother call me a “dirty little Mexican whore” and not say anything.  One time she decided that she didn’t want me there anymore and made me pack all my stuff to move out (I was in 7th grade).  When I was done packing she had me put all my stuff on the porch and sit outside.  She finally decided that I could stay and made me unpack everything.  Another example are the times she would get me a dog, let me keep it for a few months, get attached to them then say “it ran away” while I was at school.  I know she gave them (more than one) away.  

One day in 8th grade I decided I couldn’t take anymore of the abuse so when my mother proceeded to hit me again I fought back and defended myself.  I threw a bowl at her and had to swing a walking stick to keep her off me.  She never hit me again.  

Shortly after that we got evicted again.  We lived in our car for a while then Dennis devised some plan to get himself admitted to a hospital so he had somewhere to stay.  The hospital was in San Francisco and my mom went to visit him all the time.  Some nights she would stay with him so that meant I was in the car by myself.  I eventually lived with my next door neighbor for a couple of weeks.  One day my mom called to talk to me and I told her I wanted to find my dad and stay with him.  She flipped out.  The next day when I came home from school my neighbor, Candy, told me “they’re coming to get you.”  A feeling told me inside that something bad would happen if I went with them, so I took off for Laura’s house (we had become good friends by this time).  I explained the situation to her mom and she was trying to help me out.  I ended up going to the police station and staying there for a while.  After explaining what happened, they decided the best thing for me was to stay in another shelter for troubled kids.  After some pushing and prodding, I got to stay with Laura.  My Mom didn’t fuss or fight or anything.  

That is until  a few weeks later when she decided that I needed counseling (for all 3 of us).  Since I admitted I wasn’t happy and had thought about dying, I was admitted to a special hospital where I spent a week.  By the time I left the hospital, they said my mother needed the evaluation not me.  I stayed with Laura and finished 8th grade.  I started prepping for high school when my Mom decided to stir everything up and cause problems.  By law when you don’t want to live with our parents and there is trouble in the house, you have to live with relatives before friends.  I chose my aunt and uncle in Pleasanton because they had more money than any other relatives and I was sick of being poor.  I never told them this and I never will.  

I left my old friends behind again.  I thought everything was going to be OK.  I even called my dad after not seeing him for over 4 years and talked to him.  We both cried.  Well to try and make a very long story shorter, he is now a very big drug addict along with my older sister.  My little sister now lives with another aunt and uncle.  My dad doesn’t care about me, only his drugs and I know this for a fact.  My mother and I haven’t spoken in over 5 years and right now I have no intention of speaking to her.  She is supposed to love me unconditionally and she didn’t.  No one ever has.  My aunt and uncle that I live with have negative feelings towards me because of my parents behaviors and actions.  They are doing everything they can to make me leave.  They are also mentally abusive.  Mostly my uncle.  But I’ve been through too much in my life to let this set me back.  I am determined to graduate from college.  No one in my family ever has.  

So you see, I am a strong woman in the aspect that I have been through so much and I can handle most anything.  I would never change a thing because it has made me stronger.  Except for one thing.  I am a vulnerable child when it comes to love.  No one has ever loved me unconditionally and it tears me apart.  There is a hole in my heart.  Everyone that I have remotely cared for has found someone or something better.  I have never been #1.  This will stay with me until the day I die. To know that your parents and even the rest of your family doesn’t want you around, can tear you apart.  I am a strong person and I will survive.  There is a reason this is all happening to me.  Well more than one.  One of them is I will never be like my parents or the rest of my family.  I can overcome anything...eventually.  

[southwalessubculture]

54 with Flash Morgan Webster, please? Health/Ability inclusive reader?

So, after reaching out to the author privately, we decided that the reader, in this scenario, is a wheelchair user.

#54: One reaching for the others hand to comfort them, to provide support. A thumb brushing lightly against skin. 

"Oh my god, this is amazing!"

Flash looked at you with a smile; you rarely got to go to big events like this one, like his teammate Mark Andrews's concert, because of your limited mobility. Luckily, he'd managed to talk Mark into letting you watch from right off the side of the stage; he'd even come a few hours earlier, while you'd been resting, to make sure that there was a clear path for you to safely get around without damaging your chair.

"We know that you'd wanted to come, but you were worried about if you'd be able to see or even move around. So of course, I wanted to make sure that you got your chance to see them."

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. He was already so careful to make sure that you could get around wherever you went for dates, that there were ramps or elevators if you needed them, appropriate paths that wouldn't cramp you or even make you feel bad about clogging the sidewalks. This, though? This was a whole new level of care from him, and it made you feel warmer than hot chocolate on a rainy day.

"Thank you so much, baby. I really appreciate this."

He smiled and leaned over, taking his eyes off the stage to kiss your forehead. He loved seeing you like this, excited and happy and free. Free from worries and stress, from the anxieties that often followed you around mentally.

"Of course, it's nothing. I'd do it any time for you."

You reached out, taking his hand as you listened to Junior playing Fall To Pieces, the song that you and Flash had jokingly co-opted as "your song." You grinned as Mark looked right at you, making a silly face and then nearly missing his line because of it.

Flash let his thumb run over the back of your hand, gentle circles reminding you that he was there with you, that he was absolutely in your corner if it got to be too much and you needed to leave, or if you needed anything else. He was there for you.

You pulled your hand away for a moment to cheer as Junior finished their last song, filing offstage as the fans screamed. Si and Matt smiled politely, waving as they passed you, but Mark stopped to give you a giant hug.

"So, did you enjoy our show?"

"I loved it! You guys did so good!"

Flash chuckled at your excitement as Mark ruffled your hair a bit, a proud smile on his face.

"Well, we never fail to disappoint, right?"

You laughed and agreed, but you couldn't help but pin your gaze to Flash, who was staring at you as if you were a million-dollar lottery ticket, eyes swimming with pride and happiness.

"Anyways, I've gotta go shower, I smell like an indie show locker room and that's not ideal. It was so good to have you here!"

Mark waved as he walked off, and Flash moved behind you, giving you a quick tap in the shoulder before he started to turn your chair to get you to your car. He listened as you talked excitedly, recounting all of your favorite details about the setlist, the performance, and how you'd never forget tonight. You leaned your head back to look up at him, smiling when he moved a hand from the chair's handle and poked your nose.

"I mean it, Flash, I loved it. Thank you so much for making this happen."

He smiled, stopping completely as he leaned down to kiss you.

"I'd do it all over again for you, especially to see you this happy. I love you so much."

[arcanum-of-stars]

TW: talk of a car accident + pictures

Alright this is going to be a bit of a long one. I really appreciate anyone who reads it through though. So if anyone didn’t know, I was in a car accident on May 27th 2019, one year ago today. I got T-boned (sorta) by a big Dodge Ram truck, while I was in my tiny 2004 Honda Civic. I was on the way to pick up my boyfriend and one of his fathers friends to bring into St.John’s. They live about an hour drive away. That morning I left around 7:20 and three minutes later it happened. I don’t remember exactly what happened because I got knocked out. In my mind, I picked up my boyfriend and we were all in the car driving to where we needed to be. And then I “woke up” and I was in my car crying, a paramedic was holding my head still as I was in the driver seat, still holding onto the wheel.

I heard them talking about my boyfriend and then they called him on my phone. I started crying even worse when I heard his voice. I was scared, I didn’t know what had happened, there was blood on me, and glass everywhere. They got me to come out through the passenger side and get up onto a gurney. I was put in the ambulance where the paramedic asked some questions as we drove to the hospital. They had to cut the sweater I was wearing off of me, it was covered in glass and blood. I laid on the gurney while they put an IV in. I don’t remember at what point they did put it on but I had a gauze pad wrapped around near my left eye.

A family friend of my boyfriends father who was in the hospital came in to see me. She started crying. I thought, “I must look like garbage laying here all bloody and bandaged with a neck brace” She asked what happened and I said I didn’t know. I really didn’t. Not too long after my boyfriends father came in. He actually cried a bit and told me I gave him some fright. Then my boyfriend came in and stayed with me through the xrays and when I had to get stitches. I had three cuts on my eye and the biggest on was a chunk taken out and you started to see the bone underneath so that was fun.

When it came time to give them a urine sample I couldn’t walk. It was so painful to move my legs and I need to be put into a wheelchair and even then my boyfriend was with me every step of the way to help. Him and his father were there because the police couldn’t get ahold of my family and neither could the hospital. It was my boyfriend who got into contact with my mother and let her know what had happened. Then they brought me to my parents house afterwards

Before we left though, we stopped to look at my car. I couldn’t see it at the time because, well, I couldn’t walk so I wasn’t able to get out of the truck. When I had to go back to the hospital for X-rays a few days later I was finally able to see my car, as well as the truck that hit me. I was told that I was lucky to be alive and that I made out with minimal injuries; a black eye, 8 stitches, a small collapsed lung and I could barely walk the pain was so bad in my legs

But the main point of me saying this is because I could have died. That impacted the people around me. I’ve had depression for a several years now and even self harmed and had suicidal thoughts. You really don’t realize how much people care for you until something really bad happens like this.

I have anxiety driving even in passenger and if I tried to drive I really don’t know what I’d do. I have scars on my face from the cuts that were so deep you could see bone and some scars on my legs. The fines I still need to pay from that accident that constantly cause me stress. The physical pain and emotional pain from that accident are something that I have dealt with and have. But nothing from that will ever affect me more than when I saw my boyfriend come in. I couldn’t move from where I was, I was covered in blood and looked awful and the only thing I wanted right then was him with me. I reached my hand out to him and said “I need you” and that was the moment he broke and started crying.

I would have made my turn if the guy driving the truck wasn’t speeding in a 30 zone. If I remember he was going around 60-70. He also had a kid with him who was luckily ok.

Please if you’ve read this far, take this as a reminder, people do care. Don’t take for granted the people close to you and please drive safe.

[khhunniewriting]

The Others (4)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]

During summer break Leo often found himself bored at home. You worked all day trusting him to take care of himself now that he had outgrown being left with a sitter. For the most part, he had proven himself responsible enough to do so. Of course, you worried and sometimes had your neighbor check up on him.

“Hey Leo, just came to make sure you were doing okay.”

Leo was met with the charismatic smile of the female university student that lived next door. She lived with her boyfriend, a nice guy Leo had greeted a few times before.

He nodded in response.

“I’m going to the convenience store. Want to tag along?”

Leo shrugged his shoulders meaning he didn’t particularly want to go but if she wanted the company then he would go along.

“Come on, I’ll buy you some ice-cream.”

His response was to put on his shoes. This made Haru giggle and lead the boy downstairs from the second floor where they lived.

It wasn’t until you got home that Leo returned. He was out of breath from running home after realizing what time it was. 

“There you are.”

“Sorry,” he apologized knowing he should have let you know where he was. Luckily for him Haru had already done so or you would have been running all over the city to find him in a panic. “I was playing basketball in the park.”

“Did you have fun?”

He nodded, “Haru and Kai’s friends are on the basketball team at their university.” Leo liked playing with them. It taught him how to deal with players who were taller than him. 

You gasped, “Do you plan on playing that long as well?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. 

“Now that I think about it, I’ve never asked what you want to be when you grow up Leo.” You leaned over the kitchen counter resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “You have good grades, you like basketball, and you were good at Taekwondo too- although you haven’t gone back since receiving your poom belt.”

Leo hadn’t put too much thought into it. All he knew was that he wanted to make sure he could make a lot of money so you wouldn’t have to work so much anymore. 

“Not that you have to decide now or anything.”

It was just fascinating how quickly your son had grown from that small helpless boy struggling for his life to this strong individual. You would never forget the fear of almost losing him...

Mrs. Park held your hand tightly as a nurse helped you into a wheelchair. “Everything will be alright Y/N.”

You nodded as tears continued to stream down your eyes. It was difficult to agree with her when you knew something just didn’t feel right. It didn’t take a medical professional to know a pregnant woman shouldn’t be bleeding.

Life was getting back at you for having slept with a married man in more ways than one. Not only did you have to sit down and confront the wife of your unborn son’s father, but you also had to lie further and add to the long list of mistakes. Although you saw no other way out you knew there would be trouble if Kylie, or worse Joonkyung, ever found out the truth.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

That thought was the most worrying of all.

Even if this pregnancy was accidental, it was far from a mistake. You knew that now after months of carrying and growing your little one. He was there for a reason.

He was yours and you would never let anyone take him from you.

Your son had become the center of your world. No one was more loved than your Leo. “Whatever you choose to do Mama will be right behind you.”

Leo laughed at the fact that you called yourself Mama, “Obviously.”

\\\

Ji-hoon sprawled his limbs out on the black leather couch inside his father’s home office finding the silence of the vast condo to be annoying. At his home, it had been loud thanks to his nuisance of a sister and now he found this change of environment hard to get used to. 

He looked over at his father who sat across the room at his desk, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Dad, I thought being the leader meant you did cool things like intimidating, fighting, and killing people.” Perhaps Ji-hoon had been desensitized thanks to his mother bringing home hitmen and briefing them in their own home. She was mostly the one in the business of murder while Dok2 was more in the money. 

“As a leader, I direct and oversee the everyday operations of the group. My main concern is making sure the more money comes in.”

Ash Island, a new recruit, stood by the door with a smirk. “Killing is my job kid, well if the boss instructs me to.”

“Have you killed anyone before?” Ji-hoon sat up suddenly interested in the individual that had been silent up until now.

Ash nodded, “How do you think I got the job?”

“Cool!” Ji-hoon beamed before continuing to discuss such things with the older man. The longer he talked with Ash Island, the more he thought recruits had more fun than leaders. By the looks of it, he didn’t have to watch what he said or did, unlike his father who kept that calmness about him.

After a while, Ash and Ji-hoon stepped out of the office leaving Dok2 to work in peace. It was as if Ji-hoon had finally found someone who acknowledged his presence. 

He was getting the attention he so desperately wanted!

“So kid, why aren’t you in school?”

“It’s summer break.”

“Don’t you have friends and stuff?”

Ji-hoon’s brow furrowed, “Everyone is so fake I’d rather not.” He was a popular kid at school, a bit of a class clown who could make everyone laugh at the teacher’s expense. He got detention a lot, got sent out of the class, and never participated in class but somehow managed to pass every test given to him. They knew he was rich and girls often flocked to him because of it- didn’t hurt that he was handsome too.

Ash Island nodded in understanding. “Don’t you go to any clubs?”

“I play sports, got kicked out of soccer for being too aggressive but the basketball coach doesn’t seem to mind as long as I don’t get caught.” The mention had him remembering his last game. “it’s something to keep me from getting bored.”

“Cool, I used to play a bit of basketball too.”

“Really?” Ji-hoon had a playful smirk creeping up as he began to get excited about finding someone who could save him from boredom this summer. “Wanna play?”

“Now?” Ash rubbed the back of his neck wondering if he was allowed to just get up and go. “I’ll have to ask the boss-”

“Leave it to me.”

\\\

When you moved you were offered the same position as your previous job at a different spa in the same luxury hotel chain. Thankfully there were so many around that you were able to find one close to home again.

It was a newly built location so the staff was generally less experienced as your previous coworkers. Everyone looked to you for direction and you graciously picked up the slack making sure operations run smoothly. Often you were leaving work late.

The area was busy and well-lit so you had no complaints about walking home until you felt like you were being followed. A few times you would mask the fact that you were searching your surroundings for any suspicious-looking people. It never resulted in much.

However, when you decided to take a new route you found what you had been looking for. A black SUV type car that you regularly passed seemed to pop up on the new route for the next few days.

Every day you took note of the license plate and tried to catch a glimpse of the inside but the windows were tinted.

“She’s definitely on to us,” Woogie reported to Jay. 

“We’ll have to stop surveillance for now.”

Jay agreed but not without proposing his own plan. “What if we forget the surveillance all together and get closer to Dok2′s baby mama?”

“I wouldn’t mind getting closer,” Simon offered with pretty obvious motivation.

Jay laughed at his second in command. “I was thinking we put Hoody to work. She can try to get a job in the spa, befriend Y/N to get all the information we need without arising suspicion.”

Gray nodded in agreement, “Solid plan.”

“Besides if anyone gets close to her it's me,” Jay proclaimed. He had to admit Dok2 had good taste when it came to picking women. Long ago he lusted after his wife but that didn’t compare to the almost obsessive urge he had to know everything about you.

-end-

A/N: For now it may seem I’m writing a lot of OC stuff with Ji-hoon and Leo but I promise Dok2 and Y/N will have their moment to shine later on. A suggestive content warning is coming soon.