#my brain says it’s mid but my heart is filled with a childlike wonder

[k1ttygam3r]

Me: Warriors is so mid lmao the writing is horrible

Also me reading the books:

[minstrophywife]

Reverie

⇢Pairing: Namjoon x Scientist!Reader ⇢Genre: Romance, Sci-fi!AU    ↳[fluff] [smut] [baby bit of angst] ⇢Word Count: 5,280 ⇢Warnings: Sappy romantic imagery, some really soft sex, nothing outrageous (Namjoon is really sweet okay): missionary, fingering, hand-job, creampie, no protection (please practice safe sex!).

⇢Masterlist

⇢Summary: You only meet in dreams, and it’s always on the beach. And maybe the both of you don’t want to wake up at all.

⇢A/N: Hello guys! I had a sudden idea after talking to the lovely @monospromise about her dreams. So here you go. It’s your dreams come true (ish). It’s a bit shorter than my other stuff, but I hope you enjoy! I really liked writing this one.

REVERIE.

The sun feels hot against your skin, and you can see it dance across your closed eyelids. A breeze passes by, and you smell the salt from the ocean tickle your nose. 

You already feel your heart at peace, and you fight the temptation not to move at all.

When you do finally open your eyes, you are met with paradise- the sky is a brilliant blue, palm trees sway above you, the leaves shivering from the wind.

Not a bad thing to wake up to, you think, smiling softly. 

You sit up, and you are laying on the grass- but a large beach stretches in front of you, the green of the water splashes onto the white sand. 

It almost looks like snow, with how with the beach is, and you walk towards it, mesmerized. You have encountered such a beautiful place before.

But as you take a few steps forward, you notice another sleepy figure in the grass under his own tree. His legs are sprawled outwards, hands resting on his belly. You step closer, curious. 

You notice how soft snores escape from full lips, and you can’t help the small giggle that escapes your lips. He wakes up with a stir, and you’ve been caught staring at his sleeping form. He rubs his eyes with his hands.

“Just how loud was I snoring?” He asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment as he sits up.

His actions make you want to tease him. “Loud enough to walk over to you.”��

“Perfect then.” He says looking up at you, and his flirty response has you blinking back in shock.

You see his dimples in response, and you can’t help but think that you want to always make him smile- just to see those dimples again.

“Kim Namjoon.” he says, outstretched hand towards you. 

“Y/N.” You say taking his hand in yours. 

You see him again today, but he isn’t sleeping. This time Kim Namjoon is reading a book, and you peek over at the front, trying to discover the title. He looks content, shaded by a palm tree. You contemplate whether or not you should bother his reading.

Instead you take a seat as quietly as possible next to him, not trying to be rude, but happy to see a familiar face again. He hums in response, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence. 

The two of you are walking together down the beach, side by side. You hunt for seashells, already the bucket filled with an array of swirling pinks and browns. You haven’t known Namjoon very long, but you can see his childlike personality appear when searching for the most interesting of shapes and colors.

“What are we going to do with the shells, when we are done?” You ask, as you find a particularly pretty pink cockle shell. You place it gingerly into the bucket that is currently wedged in the sand, between you and Namjoon.

“That’t the beauty of it- it’s about searching for things that automatically make them special. So we can do whatever we want!” He says, and your heart beats just a little faster.

The hammock is large, large enough for the two of you to climb in together. You fidget nervously as you walk closer to it, Namjoon excitedly describing the book that he just finished to you. You aren’t really paying attention though.

“After you.” He says, helping you into the hammock. You hold onto his shoulders for balance while you shift into a comfortable position to let him on as well.

He tumbles awkwardly into the netting, and you laugh, not assisting him at all. He grumbles at your lack of help, a blush riding high on his cheekbones.

It takes him some time before he can talk about his book again, especially over your giggles.

“Namjoon?” You ask, the both of you enjoying the cool of the ocean water from the heat of the summer sun.

“Yes?” He says, turning to you, and you see dimples again, and your question gets lost- the sparkling of the surface of the water as well as his hair, wet from when you splashed at him playfully.

You just return the smile instead, until he dunks your head underwater in revenge.

“Ah, hello!” He’s waiting for you again, this time he’s sitting in the sand, his bare toes are kissed by the waves, white bubbles creating a contour around his feet. As you approach closer, you see his signature dimples emerge. You can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth begin to lift in response. When you stand beside him, you hover, glancing at the sea that spreads before you, and you release a deep breath.

Every time you meet with Namjoon, your heart feels full and heavy, but there is a question that weighs down your tongue. You wonder when you can ask him.

Today feels different- clouds cover the sun, a hazy glow settling on the beach. Namjoon is waiting for you per the usual, but this time he seems distracted as you approach- so much so that you scare him when you put a hand down on his shoulder. 

He turns to you and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hello Y/N, nice to see you as always.” Your eyebrow lifts in a silent question.

“What would you like to do today?” You ask, hoping to ease whatever is on his mind. Namjoon stands, and he naturally takes your hand in his. 

“Let’s just go for a walk today.” He says and you try to focus on why he sounds so distant today, rather than on your entwined fingers. You wonder if he meant to do that. He’s not letting go though.

You walk silently for a while, footprints follow behind you in the sand. 

“I know it’s all a dream you know.” He says abruptly, not looking you in the eye. 

You pause mid stride, eyes widening.

“Well, a simulated dream anyways.” He mumbles, mostly to himself. 

You turn towards him.

“Wait, how long have you known?” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Isn’t supposed to happen.

“Ah, I’ve known for a while. I remember reading articles in the Scientific Journals before during my lunch breaks. They mentioned trying a new way to re-stimulate the brain, to encourage the person to finally wake up from their coma. In layman’s terms anyways.” He digs his heel in the sand. He still hasn’t turned to face you yet.

You knew he was smart, and even more so after your meany sessions with Kim Namjoon. You try to search for his eyes, but he’s looking away towards the horizon, a wistful stare.

 “How long was it until you noticed?” You ask. There isn’t much point on hiding it from him.

“I noticed on the third day- you always find me, but I realized that I never remember much before or after you leave. I’m just always on the beach.”

You aren’t sure what to say. But he’s staring at you, waiting.

“I’m sorry you found out.” You manage to finally say. “The patient is not supposed to know, or to ever know. Most patients don’t remember any of the sessions they wake up.” 

That seems to make his eyes widen, and he turns to you with a worried expression.

“Then I’ll enjoy what I have, while I have it. I’m happy to have you.” 

The hand that squeezes yours is shaking.

You squeeze it back.

Your eyes flutter open, and you peel the helmet off your head. A cold sweat has appeared on your body. The glass of the pod is still closed in front of you, but you hear Hoseok’s muffled curse and then its sliding open.

You take deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asks, worry knitting his brows together. “Both you and Kim Namjoon had a heightened heart rate this session.”

You swallow thickly, nodding. You know you need to tell Hoseok the truth, that the sessions could now be completely screwed up, since…

 He knows.  

But- you realize, that this could be an interesting part of Kim Namjoon’s recovery, as well as a further subject to study for later sessions. 

Or it’s because you don’t want to stop seeing him.

“I’m fine- Don’t worry. We just were talking about some sensitive things.” You say, turning toward your colleague and best friend. He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it slide. For now.

You exit the pod now, walking towards your laptop to distract yourself with creating the log for this session.

As the sun begins to settle down the horizon, your eyes begin to flutter- you are stubbornly fighting the pull of sleep. But you are drowsy, and your cheek nestled against his chest causes you to slowly rise and fall with each intake of breath. You count his heart beat, and find your own heart aligning with his. You vaguely feel a soothing hand that rubs small circles on your hip, matching the slow tempo of your combined hearts.

badump badump badump

Your eyes shut. 

You aren’t allowed to enjoy the feeling of relaxation- too soon you hear the familiar whirring of the supercomputer fans, along with the consistent beep beep beep of the heart rate monitors, and the clicking of keyboard keys. 

You refuse to open your eyes. Perhaps it means you can just stay- wrapped in his arms, falling asleep to the lullaby of his heart. 

“It’ll be just a moment!” 

Hoseok’s words have never felt more poignantly accurate, and you sure as hell won’t tell him. 

His regular appointments are going well, each time you visit Namjoon has managed to conjure something else in his headspace to do together. You recognize it as signs of progress,  that he’s finally wanting to wake up. 

You want him to wake up. You do. But the smallest, quietest part of you hidden away says that you don’t want him to forget you. But you shove that thought deep and far away, in the darkest part of your heart.

It’s been about a month or so, and one particular morning you hear a soft knock on the door of your office. 

Hoseok gives you a minute before popping his head in.

“It’s the Kim family. They wanted to finally meet you.” 

You nod. You knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. Rising from your desk, you follow after Hoseok to see a very tired looking Mr. and Mrs. Kim. They are huddled together on the couch, and their shoulders are scrunched up. 

 At the sound of your entrance, both of their worn faces look up, and a soft, hopeful smiles replace their sombre faces.

“Ah, so you’re the doctor helping our Namjoon?” 

You nod, reaching over to shake their hands politely. They both grapple for some sort of comfort- you know its because you are the only source who can talk to their son. You aren’t always the best with these types of meetings, but your heart feels softer for them- they have a good son, and you ignore your quickening pulse as you remember the gentle act of him tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you for taking a part of this, I know that we are still in the early development parts of experimentation for this type of recovery and therapy.” You say, sitting down next to Hoseok in the opposite chair from the sofa.

They shake their heads. “We will do anything for Joonie. Anything to see him smile again.”

You want to go over and hug them at the sound of their desperation.

You don’t want to give them hope, and you can’t disclose your sessions because of doctor patient confidentiality, but you do want to reassure them- if anything to ease their anxiety just a little bit.

“You have a good son. You raised him well.” You say, smiling softly. 

Mr. Kim shifts on the sofa, to sit proudly, while Mrs. Kim returns your smile. 

“We know his body has physically healed, all that’s remaining is for him to wake up. We refuse to lose hope.” Mr. Kim says, and you see determination flash across his eyes. You can tell he trusts you inexplicably, and it weighs on your shoulders as you straighten in your chair. 

“We just want him to wake up from his lovely dreams, and return to us so we can create new lovely memories.” Mrs. Kim wipes away some tears that are threatening to fall.

He really has some loving parents, and you feel the need to return their happiness. You steel yourself.

“I promise to bring him back home to you.”

No matter how long it takes.

Today you laying looking at the sky, not even caring about the sand in your hair. 

Large puffy clouds float lazily by. You laugh when he says one looks like a lion. It’s a nostalgic game to play, as you two begin associating clouds into more and more outrageous shapes. 

One looks like Icarus flying too close to the sun, and it wrenches you a bit from your fantasy. He says it looks like an angel.

“Why don’t you wake up?” You ask bluntly during one session, staring unflinchingly.

He turns to you from his crab hunting, wiping his hands on his shorts. 

“And leave paradise?” He says teasingly, his lips quirking up into a playful grin. 

“I’m serious.” You frown, flicking some washed up seaweed in his direction. 

A raised eyebrow. 

“Why are you asking now?” 

You hesitate, unsure if it’s a good idea to talk to him about your meeting with his family, and the real world. He’s waiting patiently, arms crossed, gaze steady. You’re not getting out of this one now. 

“You don’t think I’m trying?” He says, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “I finally was getting somewhere in life, feeling accomplished. Then the accident happened and everything stopped. You don’t think I’m not full of desire to continue?” 

You stay silent, not ready to break his revealing of emotions. 

“I don’t want to be angry. I’m trying not to be upset at what happened.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard bitterness in Namjoon’s usually calm voice. 

“I’ll ask you the same. Why won’t I wake up? You’re the doctor.” He spits, clearly frustrated and upset. He’s not even looking at you now. 

You’ve hit a nerve, and you realize how much his words have hurt you in turn. You stand angrily. 

It’s your first fight, and the first time you’ve left a session early. 

You press the small button on your bracelet, signaling for Hoseok to pull you awake. 

You decide it’s time to be more professional. You decide to not plug back into his dreamscape until you can give him some answers. 

His question hurt, but it was the truth. You have the power in this situation- you get to wake up but he does not. He’s stuck in his own head. 

He must be suffocating. 

And you took advantage of it, swept up in your own emotions and feelings toward Namjoon. 

You feel so selfish. 

You chastised yourself for being so unprofessional, wallowing a bit. Instead of trying to help Namjoon, here you are letting yourself being pampered by him, caught up in a dream and the notion of paradise.

Hoseok could feel your frustration, instead he just dutifully listened to all your requests, consistently sliding a steaming cup of coffee on your desk every few hours.

You really don’t deserve his kindness.

But now you are just determined- determined to help Namjoon escape and finally wake up. 

You’ve been pouring over Kim Namjoon’s brain activity over the past few months, comparing the patterns of when you plugged in versus his neutral state. 

You furrow your eyebrows, checking your data and are unhappy with the results. In general, you can tell his brain activity is acting normal, and honestly should be allowing for him to wake up. And yet each time you unplug from him, the brain activity goes back to a neutral state.

Tonight is another night of frustration. After a week of analysis, you really hate to reach your conclusion, because it seems like a cop out. Everything just seems psychosomatic. 

He really is lost in his own head- something is keeping him back and you aren’t exactly sure what it quite is yet.

With newfound determination, you realize you need to plug back in, and actually talk to him. 

The next day, at work, you pull Hoseok aside the minute he walks in.

“I think after taking the last week to analyze my sessions with Kim Namjoon, I still can’t produce any conclusions as to why he won’t wake up.” 

He sits in thought for a moment, processing your comment.

“After my own study as well, I think we both can conclude its psychosomatic.” 

You both wince at the word.

You needed to hear it from Hoseok.

“I think we both know you need to talk to Kim Namjoon again.” He clears his throat, and dares to look you in the eye. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you to cause you to avoid him, but as your colleague, and most importantly, as your friend, you can’t keep avoiding the inevitable.”

You gulp. You can always count on Jung Hoseok to get straight to the point.

“Especially for Namjoon’s sake.” 

He’s right.

“Especially for Namjoon’s sake.” You repeat, your voice small.

You lay into the pod again, and this time Hoseok helps hook the helmet securely, as a form of settling your anxiety. You nod in silent thanks.

The glass doors of the pod slide shut, and you close your eyes. You faintly hear Hoseok’s words of “good luck” before you smell the sea breeze.

When you open your eyes this time, your vision is filled with stars. It’s your first dreamscape with Namjoon that occurs at night.

While it’s nighttime, its still warm, and you pause for a moment, awed by such a spectacle of beauty. 

It’s as if someone has thrown confetti in the air, and the pieces have hung suspended. 

The amount of stars make you think that Namjoon is trying to impress you. Maybe. 

You walk forward towards the beach, head pointed to the sky as you stop to sit again while you wait for him. You dig your toes into the sand.

In an instant, he’s there. 

There is a long stretch of silence- perhaps you both don’t know what to say after your fight. Silent apologies hang heavy in the air. 

“Thank you.” You say, eyes not leaving the stars, stars he made for you.

You hear a heavy exhale, and he shifts - a hand finds your own.

“I told myself I would make it up to you- that I had to. For me being an asshole to the one person who makes me not alone.” 

“We both were wrong.” 

His hand tightens further on your own. 

“I am your doctor, and you my patient. I got caught up in my growing attachment to you, and instead of focusing on helping you, instead I was selfish and was focusing on me.”

You continue quickly, wanting to get your point across before Namjoon can interject.

“Maybe instead of creating dates and a paradise for me…” you whisper, and you fight a blush forming at your bold words, “… you should figure out what you need first.” You press your free hand against his heart.

There is a long pause, and you can feel the beating of his heart against his chest.

badump badump badump

Namjoon takes this moment to reach across, grabbing your cheek to pull your attention away from your hand over his heart. 

“Did it ever cross your mind…” he says, eyes searching yours, thumb dragging softly across your cheek, “…that you are what makes me want to be able to wake up and see you every day? Every moment?”

You break your eye contact, gaze shifting down shyly. You look at your entwined fingers in the sand. 

Namjoon is not deterred. 

“That when I close my eyes and open them again I can be with you? That when I pursue my life to the fullest it can be by your side?”

Tears spill and fall from your eyes, you hadn’t noticed it before. His thumb wipes along the tracks.

And then his lips are on yours and he’s kissing you.

Soft, but desperate. 

And you kiss back, with the same fervor, and your hand tightens on fabric of his tee, bunching it between your fingers. 

Your lip is being pulled between his teeth, and then you flick your tongue out to meet his mouth and then tongues twist together, sloppy and needy.

You are vaguely aware of him shifting- he’s pushing you down, your hair in the sand. You open your eyes at your world shifting, and he pulls away.

Your vision is filled with him, the stars, and your breath catches in your throat.

“That when I touch you, it’s not a dream- your skin beneath my fingers, your shuddering breath, your body under mine.” His voice is rumbling, broken from your kisses.

He’s waiting patiently for your response, a warm hand teasing under the hem of your shirt.

“I want you too.” You whisper, more tears threatening to fall.

And soon enough his shirt is removed, and so is yours, and he’s flush against your body, his lips brushing against your eyelids, your nose, you’re cheeks. 

He moves to your neck, and you feel yourself becoming lost in him. His tongue worships your skin, especially the spot where you let out a soft moan. 

As he’s languidly kissing your neck, his hand traces the softness of your sides, traveling upwards to cup your breast, fingers brushing your nipple in teasing touches. 

You don’t want him to stop, the way he’s loving you, but you bring shaky hands to his hair, weaving it amongst the soft strands, hopefully your feelings can be translated to him.

He releases the skin of your neck from between his teeth, the skin already beginning to darken in shade.

“That when you look in the mirror later, you can remember me.”

A soft moan releases from your lips.

He moves down your body, memorizing the planes of your body with his mouth, his tongue, your hands never leaving his hair. 

He reaches the swell of your breast, and suckles lightly on your nipple, his full lips pillows against you. The warm and wet sensation causes you to grip tighter at his hair.

You feel his lips quirk upwards in a smile. 

The attention on your breast means you aren’t paying attention to hands, playing with the waistband of your pants, until you feel a fumbling with the zipper. His fingers struggle to accomplish the job, while he’s mouthing your chest.

You laugh breathlessly.

When you lift your hips to assist him, he ignores your teasing- merely peels the fabric down your legs when the zipper is finally loose, fingers dragging down your legs. You kick the offending material away when when it pools around your ankles.

And Namjoon looks at you, only you- and his fingers trace along your folds, the fabric of your panties wet because of him, only him.

You so desperately want to him to push- it would be so simple for the fabric to be moved out of the way. But you know that the both of you are taking time, time in each other. 

You pull his head back towards yours, lips seeking contact- their partner has been missing already too long. 

The kisses this time are softer, no tongue, just soft pecks of adoration. And when his fingers apply more pressure, your hands finally leave from his hair to make their way towards his shorts- the simple drawstring undone quickly- and your own fingers tease along his hipbone until they dip lower still towards his cock, straining against his briefs. 

When your fingers wrap securely around his shaft and move, your panties are finally removed and his fingers plunge into your folds. He groans against your lips, you tighten around him further in response. 

You match his rhythm, and he matches yours, with each stroke of his cock he pushes into you, and you both are becoming undone. 

His thumb brushes against your clit, and you moan deeply and at that point your patience lasts no longer.

He settles further between your legs, the head of his cock replacing his fingers against your clit, before he finally enters you.

He moves in slowly, savoring the way you suck him in, your hands grapple for his shoulders, trying to pull him in further. And when his body is flush against yours, he pauses to look at your blush, your hair sticking to the sides of your face, and your eyes that screwed shut in pleasure.

And then he moves- slow, deep. But the pace is not enough, and he’s not going deep enough because you want to be lost in him.

You lift your legs to hook around him bringing him closer to you. And then he understands.

And your moans intertwine with his, and as he keeps going, deeper and harder still, you know you’re close, even though you don’t want this moment to end.

But it does, like all dreams do.

And when you do, you cry out, your orgasm too much to process- but you open your eyes because you want to see the look of pleasure on his face, you aren’t sure when you’ll see it next. His eyebrows are knit together, his sweat making his neck and forehead sheen and sparkle from the moonlight. And then he’s coming in you, and you are him and he is you.

badump badump badump

And when you both catch your breath, eyes refocusing onto his face-

“I can only see stars.” You say.

“I can only see stars.” He parrots back.

And your heart is full. 

When you return to the office the next day, you already feel anxiety creeping up your spine. 

You should feel nervous to see him again, especially after your last intimate encounter, but instead all you feel is nausea. 

You settle into the pod and you feel suffocated for the first time.

Because when you open your eyes, it’s as if you hadn’t opened your eyes at all. There is nothing. You don’t know how long you stare into nothing.

Hoseok rips you back into the pod, removing the helmet as quickly as you can.

You are breathing heavily, and you feel cold- so cold.

Hoseok won’t look into your eyes, he’s nervously gripping a clipboard with paperwork behind his back.

Your stomach drops to your chest, and all you can hear is your heart thudding in your ears.

His dreams are gone.

It’s week two and you still can’t see the beach. You fruitlessly connect to the machine, and at this point the other scientists don’t hold you back. You can still feel the pity that fills their eyes, and instead of feeling sad, you just feel frustrated. Why does it feel like everyone else has given up? Even Hoseok doesn’t flash a determined smile back at you now, he simply grips your shoulder as if to try to ground you before stepping away to begin the program. You close your eyes, and when you open them back up-

It’s unbearably silent, an empty void.

You feel so alone. 

You wonder if he is experiencing it too- lost in a sea of black. 

Does he feel as alone as you? 

Hoseok is kind- he leaves you to your thoughts for at least an hour, before he returns you back into the hospital. 

There are no tears to shed anymore, just a dull ache.

“Anything?” Hoseok asks gently, out of routine and comfort, rather than out of curiosity. He helps, unplugging you from the helmet and wires, holding a hand out as you step out of the pod. “Nope, no change.” You accept his hand, and walk towards the computers to log the same entry you have entered for the past two weeks.

You can see him want to ask a question, as his eyebrows draw together for a brief moment, but he just nods, stepping outside to leave you alone.

You know what question is on the tip of his tongue, but you both know the answer to it.

As long as it needs to be.

Today you Namjoon after you have met with your other patients, your schedule is much busier because of the increased funding towards your department. 

Amongst your patients, You’ve seen countless scenes, most in a comfortable home, a warm fireplace, or a large library full of books. Some were outside, a beautiful forest of green, hills of snow, a grassy park, an endless garden of roses - in front of you. You were even on a distant planet once.

You have never seen another beach though.

The success rate is increasing steadily per day, more and more patients finally waking up. It makes you determined, after each success, to see happy family and loved ones shedding tears of happiness to finally reunite with those who have been asleep for so long.

You want to give Namjoon’s family and friends just the same result.

This time, you do not connect to the machine- you knew how tired Hoseok was after today- a total of seven patients- so you sent him home early.

“Are you sure?” He quirks his head towards you, wincing when his neck cracks in response to the movement.

“We’ve both had a long day Hoseok, go home and get some rest. I can visit him on my own today.” You even hang up your lab coat in the locker, just for good measure- to try and convince him that it’s okay.

He’s still hesitating, fiddling with his keycard around his neck. 

You turn, flashing him a reassuring smile. He finally sighs, pulling on his own lab coat to hang. 

“I promise I’ll make up for it tomorrow.” He looks at you apologetically.

Shaking your head, he just gives your shoulder a squeeze, a wordless form of continued support.

“Until tomorrow.”  

You walk down the sterile white hallway, until your reach his room, his name still pinned to the side of the door. 

Kim Namjoon.

You slide the door open, and immediately grab the not so comfortable chair that sits to the right of the entrance. 

You take a familiar seat next to him, or as close as you can get, as he’s in his temperature and air controlled unit. 

beep beep beep

The heart rate monitor reminds you he’s still here, still fighting to return. So you have to stay strong for him too.

beep beep beep

You curl up in your seat, muscles relaxing after the long day at work.

“Hello again.” You say into the air, a little louder than necessary. You hope your words find his ears, especially behind the protective barrier surrounding him.

beep beep beep

You don’t say anything afterwards, you sit, just relaxing in his presence. You fight the weight in your eyelids, the heaviness of your drooping head.

You don’t notice the twitch of his fingertips.

It feels surreal to be at the beach again. 

The sky and sea merge into one, an endless expanse of blue that reminds you just how small you are in comparison. But then you feel his hand grasp yours, and suddenly you realize you don’t ever have to face it alone.

© minstrophywife.

[fairlyfantasy-writerblr]

The little goddess

Part 1 of 3 ---- I’m falling, my eyes are closed because I can’t stand to see the world moving that fast around me. To see death looking me in the eyes. My heart is beating so fast I am a heart attack risk, and I almost wish that I died before I hit the ground. I hear the world whistling by before I hear and feel nothing.

Glancing around, I see a man that looks like he would belong in Italy, with dark brown curls that seem to have no rhyme or reason. Eyes so black it pulls the light out of the air, yet are filled with a kind of childlike happiness. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones, features that wouldn’t look out of place on an aristocrat. And he is holding me. My setting is unfamiliar, it doesn’t share the same appearance of where I fell, even the sky is different. The man notices my curiosity and smiles before setting me down. I feel lighter than I did before, something is different, but I can’t seem to place it.

I wander until I find a garden, the man followed me the whole way. We had passed many people, who looked at us, but said nothing. The garden was in front of a large castle, and the man only nodded when I looked to see if it was okay for me to be there. In the garden there were flowers and many fruit trees. The fruits seemed to glimmer with jewel like appearances, and I was captivated. I reached out for one but the man - still saying nothing - grabbed my hand and lead me away. He spoke quietly but it carried as if the world wanted me to hear him.

“Don’t eat those, they are dangerous for someone like you.” His words confused me but at a questioning glance he said nothing more.

He lead me inside the castle, into a room decorated beautifully. It was something that suited my tastes exactly, as if I had decorated it myself. As I turned to thank him, he had disappeared into seemingly thin air.

“I wonder why he left so suddenly… He seemed so kind, but… where am I?” I glanced around, but it lent me no clues to my whereabouts.

Little did I know, but across the castle, the man stood among those he held close to his heart. It was a meeting of sorts for their lord. He paced as his friends bickered, unable to find a  solution.

“You should calm down, for all you know, she knows nothing, she may be frightened. You should explain yourself.” A woman with a crown of flowers on a nest of mahogany brown hair spoke up. Her eyes were as green as the stems, and her skin as pale as her whitest daisies.

Another man spoke from across the room, gaining their attention as this was the first time he had spoke this meeting. “She didn’t cross like the others did, she is special. However, her death symbolizes something, possibly a resurgence of a new bout of gods. She may only be the first, or she may be the only. We will not know for some time, but she has appeared here and taken well to you, so I vote that we make her comfortable. She may be a better suit for you than Persephone,” at a nod of agreement from the said queen of the dead, he continued on, “and she may not have to leave. Hades, give the poor girl a chance.”

“I don’t know if I can… she only trusts me because I was the one who caught her. I said nothing of who I am or where we were. I… I may have already ruined things.” Taking his head into his hands, he took a seat on the steps to his throne. Thanatos just shook his head with the others at their dramatic king.

“She thinks only good of you, give her a bouquet, something beautiful. Tell her your name and go from there. You have always been too kind and too worried about messing things up. Take a chance.” Hecate spoke from her corner of the room, with bright blue hair and skin as dark as the night, her eyes being pure white were like a shock. They seemed unseeing, but they bored into Hades with an unrelenting power.

“I agree, it's not as if she has any power yet, tell her while a outburst won’t bring the whole castle to the ground.” Nemesis spoke, her prosthetic arm waving wildly as her eyes crinkled with the slightly deranged smile. It seemed off putting to anyone who had never seen it before, but to the rest of them, it was nothing but one of her quirks.

Persephone whispered something in his ear, and he finally looked up with an apologetic smile as she waved him of with a grin as she nodded and disappeared, leaving petals on the floor where she had stood.

“Why is she the only one that can get him out of the emo corner he constantly tries to hide in? I have tried for centuries and it has done me no good. Magic woman, tell me how.” Nyx pointed at Hecate only for her to send a breeze over to the queen of the night. “That doesn’t answer my question and you know it.” Hecate's only response was to disappear in smoke, leaving only a stem of sage in her wake.

“Meeting adjourned then, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.” With that, their own king disappeared as well, only a sliver of obsidian to prove that he had been there.

I had fallen asleep halfway through their little meeting of sorts. It wasn’t something intentional, but after I had explored the room, I was hit with the type of exhaustion that nearly cripples you. So I flopped onto my bed and was asleep before my head even touched the bed.

I woke up, not to the birds I had grown accustomed to, or the annoying sun in my eyes, but rather of my own volition. Also, to a knock at the door. Or many. I just wanted to turn myself into a burrito and sleep some more, because I may be rested up, but that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t sleep for 5 more years if I wanted to.

“I’m awake, I’ll be out in just a moment, ‘kay?” I half yelled, my speech was slurred with sleep, but I didn’t care. The knocking stopped. Half of my brain told me to go back to sleep, but the other half told me to get up or they would start knocking again.

I noticed a outfit laid out at the foot of my bed, I didn’t know where it had come from and knowing myself I would have missed them in my once over of the room. They were probably someone else's, so I left it alone, and went to answer the door instead. The man from the day before was leaning against my wall, tapping his foot and looked as if he was about to begin pacing.

“Hello.” He jumped a bit at my voice, and settled when he noticed me. However his eyes gained a sad look to them as looked upon my current state of dress.

“Did you not like the clothes I sent for you? If you don’t like them then I can get you new ones.” His eyes glanced down as he began to fiddle with his rings. My eyes widened at the realization that they had been for me.

“Oh, it's not that! I just know myself too well. I thought it had been left over from the last person to have been in the room. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just didn’t realize… I’m sorry.” His eyes had lit back up but the more that I talked the more panicked he looked.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. I should have told them to leave a note. It was stupid of me to not have done so. You can go back and finish getting ready if you want to, I can wait.” He flashed me a smile before ushering me back into my room.

He was a very confusing man. But he was kind, better than any of my ex’s, and he wasn’t trying to get anything from me. He just seemed to want me to be happy. It was odd, but it felt… nice.

I ran into the bathroom I had seen the night before, and took a quick moment to admire the room yet again before I hopped into the shower. After I grabbed a towel and began to dry off, I walked out to grab the clothes that he had gotten me. It was a dress that reached to my mid-calf, it was a royal blue. There was also a pair of black flats to match the black trim of the dress. It was something that I would more readily wear to a big event than every day, but it was beautiful. I wasn’t going to turn it down because it didn’t seem like the right occasion. I slipped it on and looked in the mirror. Somehow, it fit me perfectly, but at this point I wasn’t going to question it.

I stepped back out of my room after putting my hair in my customary ponytail. He was actually pacing when I left my room this time. He wouldn’t have noticed me had I not let out a little laugh. His head shot up and he let out a shocked laugh at my appearance. I was nothing special, nothing beautiful in my own eyes, so I assumed it to be a laugh at himself. It was much later I realized the truth.

“Lead the way, you are the one who supposedly knows his way around here.” He gave a little nod and started walking, leading me right-right-straight-straight-left until we arrived at a big set of doors, which he opened, to find myself in the center of the garden again.

“I am afraid I am a bad host, I haven’t even introduced myself or asked for your name. Apologies, but I can rectify that now. I am Hades, it is nice to meet your acquaintance. You are?” His name rang bells, but I couldn’t place where from. As to not appear rude, I introduced myself as well.

“Kalia, and it's okay. I didn’t ask for your name either. I just don’t know why I am here. This doesn’t seem like the place I fell from, I don’t recognize any of this. I… can I know why you are letting me stay here?”

“You needed a place to stay, and I had a place that would work. You… the how and where we are is complicated. You should have taken a different way down here. You passed, your soul moved on, and it should have gone the way every other soul does. It should have been ferried across, but it didn’t. You fell from the sky, and I barely caught you in time. This is the underworld, but you aren’t to be judged. We are thinking that you may be of a new set of gods that was sent here because this is where your powers lay.”

“I- I’m sorry, I - I just, what? I died, I knew that was going to happen the second the ground crumbled, but a god?! No, it doesn’t make sense.” An energy began to build up around me, the more I tried to explain it to myself the stronger it became. “No, you are talking nonsense, it's not true, it can’t be.”

Hades reached out to me and suddenly the power that had been building up exploded out of me. He was thrown back, uninjured but dazed. I stared at myself as I tried to rationalize it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because somehow I had just thrown the kind man who had only tried to help me without even touching him.

Because I was scared.

I will be the first to admit that when I get scared I try to rationalize my fear, because if I can prove it is fake, a lie, then I won’t be afraid anymore. But I… I threw him like a doll. He had to have been telling the truth because that blow would have at least hurt a person.

Then it clicked, the reason why he was so familiar. Hades, greek god of death. God. Ijustthrewagod. I just threw a god. I just threw Hades. With that realization I ran over to him. With my words forming apologies with varying volumes I held his head on my lap as I sat on the ground with him while he regained his bearings.

“Nemesis was right.” Words meant he was okay. Words meant that he wasn’t hurt to bad. Words meant that my brain could shut up about the chants of him being hurt to the point of death.

“Right about what?”

“It was better to do this now. Imagining how bad that could have been if I had given you more time to come into your ability may have sent me to the fields of asphodel. Remind me to thank her, would you?” I let out a choked laugh, my mind spinning at the thought of Hades getting hurt more than he already was. I couldn’t let that happen. I owed it to him now.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know how I did that, but I never want to do it again if it hurts anyone like that again.”

“Don’t say that, you are the only one who can to that, you could save someone with an ability like that. I won’t die from something like that. I will be fine. I will even teach you. Just don’t swear off using your ability yet. Okay?” At my weak nod he smiles again. “Now, would you help me stand? Because I can, I just need some help getting up.” I nod with a little more life this time, and another genuine smile arrives to face me.

[culinarystrategist]

▲

Symbol Meme (Closed)

@loqis

▲  five times my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did.

i.

Without fail, each and every time Ignis starts to think that Loqi is becoming less of an insufferable little shit, he’s almost immediately proven wrong. There’s simply no end to the other man’s conceit and Ignis would dearly love to wipe that smug little smirk off Loqi’s face for once and for all. Whenever he finds himself upon on the receiving end of one of Loqi’s diatribes on how the Empire is vastly superior to Lucis, or how it’s little wonder that one of Insomnia’s own has turned against them, Ignis allows his mind to wander to all the myriad ways he could put a stop to the grandstanding. A fist to the face would be most effective. Cracking Loqi in the jaw would not only shut him up, but would prove enormously satisfying. Or Ignis could simply walk away, mid-rant. Another thought comes to him; he could put Loqi’s mouth to better use, say with a kiss…

If Loqi notices the sudden tint of redness of Ignis’ cheeks, it doesn’t deter him from his discourse, but it does allow for Ignis to press the back of his hand to his forehead and offer up the weak excuse that he thinks he may be coming down with a fever. Without questioning it, Loqi waves him off, not willing to potentially catch whatever Lucian germs Ignis might be carrying.

ii.

This is running the risk of becoming a habit…

For the fourth week in a row, Loqi has invited himself over to Ignis’ apartment for dinner, with apparently very little care whether Ignis wishes to have a guest of not. Indeed, Loqi seems to view it as some sort of right of his position, that he can impose himself upon the Lucian traitor whenever he wishes. In all honesty, Ignis lacks the will to argue; Loqi can be surprisingly pleasant company when he’s not being an insufferable little shit.

At least this time, Loqi hasn’t come empty handed, thrusting a bottle of Merlot at Ignis as he walks into the apartment. He doesn’t have to be asked to remove his footwear any more, obediently taking off his boots and slipping on the pair of guest slippers Ignis may have especially bought for such an occasion. Despite his regular remark that Ignis had better not be trying to poison him, Loqi hangs around the kitchen while the meal is being cooked, peering around Ignis’ body to see what’s in the pots and pans. Since the initial dinner of meatballs had gone down so well, Ignis has elected to repeat the meal and Loqi grabs a spoon from the drawer to ‘taste test’ the sauce - last time, he claims, it lacked salt. This time, he says, it’s better.

“You have a little-” Motioning with his finger, Ignis points to the corner of Loqi’s mouth, where a minute dribble of cream is left behind. For a fraction of a second, he contemplates cleaning it off with his tongue, before thinking better of it and reaching out to swipe away the smear with his thumb instead.

iii.

Ardyn might be the one testing Ignis’ combat skills, but Loqi is the one testing his patience. There have been rumours of a rebellious faction in the heart of Gralea, the Empire’s capital city, and Ignis and Loqi have been sent to investigate and quell any potential uprising. Although this is a joint mission, with responsibility for its success or failure resting squarely on both sets of shoulders, Loqi believes himself in charge and Ignis is growing rather sick of this imposed hierarchy. He is the brains of this operation, not the flunky, and most certainly not the sidekick.

Ignis has no doubt that Loqi is highly proficient, but unfortunately, the sentiment isn’t reciprocated and that is causing a problem because instead of trusting Ignis to play his part, Loqi tries to take it all on himself. Following a couple of suspected insurgents, Loqi states his intention to take them both down and instructs Ignis to hang back. Ignis cannot help himself.

“Why must you always be such an insufferable little shit?” The rhetorical question is murmured a little louder than intended, resulting in Loqi swiftly spinning around to look at Ignis with unbridled fury.

“Maybe if you learned how to follow the orders of your superiors,” Loqi started, jabbing a finger towards Ignis’ chest. “I wouldn’t need to-”

A shout halted Loqi in his tracks; he’d managed to attract the attention of the two men, who were quickly tracing their steps back to where Loqi and Ignis stood, bickering. Ignis had to do something - he had to make it look as though they were two random strangers, on the street, to throw off suspicion. In the movies, a situation like this was usually resolved by a kiss, and while that might have been something Ignis would like to do, he thought it wiser to throw a punch instead.

iv.

This is definitely becoming a habit. Ignis has spent the past few months in Lucis, carrying out Ardyn’s work, and now that he’s back, Loqi has - unsurprisingly - invited himself over for dinner. There’s a distinct lack of food in the apartment, because Ignis hasn’t had the opportunity to go shopping yet, but he does what he can with what he has. An improvised meal of dried pasta, cooked with a sauce made from canned tomatoes, dried herbs and some potted meat will just have to suffice. It’s not to his usual standard, but it smells appetising and is relatively tasty.

Amazingly, Loqi asks for seconds. It seems that even storecupboard cooking is preferable to Loqi’s usual supply of meals and Ignis offers what remains of the dish so Loqi can take it home and heat it up later. As they sit back after eating to catch up on the news, the atmosphere is amicable. For the time being, Loqi keeps his usual barbs and digs to himself and chats with Ignis about his journey, about what he’s missed while he was gone, and about the world in general. Either Loqi has mellowed while Ignis was away, or their relationship has transcended to something resembling friendship.

Towards the end of the night, both are lethargic from the food and the wine, and they sit close together on the couch so Ignis can show Loqi the photos he took from the train. The sight of snowy landscapes brings a smile to Loqi’s face and Ignis is reminded of why he finds the man so attractive. There’s a moment when Loqi leans in close enough for Ignis to smell the residual aroma of his shampoo and there’s a brief moment when he wants to throw caution to the wind and pull Loqi in for a kiss.

“I’m sorry to cut our evening short,” he says, instead. “But my journey has left me exhausted and I must turn in for the night.”

v.

It’s most unlike Loqi to miss an engagement. The reason, Ignis discovers, is a high fever and cold sweats. Lying in his bed, hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks a deep, ruddy red, Loqi looks almost childlike in the grip of sickness. He doesn’t argue when Ignis wipes his face with a cool, damp cloth, nor does he protest when Ignis offers to spoon-feed him some soup.

Full of worry and concern, Ignis remains at Loqi’s side while he sleeps. It’s a fitful sleep, broken by bouts of hacking coughs and wheezing. It’s just a cold, Ignis knows, but it’s a bad one, and for all his faults, Loqi is someone Ignis has come to view as a friend. Certainly, he’s as close to a friend as Ignis can have in a place like Gralea, and for that reason, Ignis will not leave him to suffer alone.

After one particularly bad coughing fit, Ignis fills a bowl with hot water and drops in a couple of menthol crystals, then holds the bowl for Loqi to inhale the vapours. It seems to do the trick of clearing his passages long enough to allow him to drop off again. Before he takes away the bowl to clean it and put it back where he found it, Ignis bows over Loqi to brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes. It’s almost instinctive, the urge to press a kiss to that damp, sweaty brow. But with Loqi asleep, it would be unforgivably invasive, so Ignis suppresses the urge.

vi.

Winter is bitter in Gralea. A cruel wind blows through the streets, carrying with it rain and sleet which stings Ignis’ face. Wrapped up in a thick overcoat, woollen scarf and thermal gloves, he makes his way to his apartment. It’s not often that he feels homesick for Insomnia, but this is one of those occasions. The winters aren’t nearly so bad in Lucis and he almost wishes he was there right now. Almost, but not quite, because this is Friday and on Fridays, Loqi comes over for dinner and video games. It’s a long-standing tradition, and one Ignis wouldn’t break for anything.

When he gets home, he finds the door is already unlocked and he can hear the music from their favourite fighting game coming from the living room. He’d regret having given Loqi a key if not for the fact that he can feel the heat as soon as he walks in - Loqi has never been shy about turning up the thermostat. Hanging up his coat and removing the rest of his outdoors wear, he calls a cheerful greeting to his guest, then heads straight for the kitchen to make a start on cooking.

After dinner, and without any prompting, Loqi washes the dishes while Ignis puts the leftovers into containers for Loqi to take away with him. It’s an oddly domestic scene, especially with Loqi wearing Ignis’ apron to keep his clothes clean of dirty dishwater. The pleasant harmony of the scene is disrupted by a loud - and colourful - curse from Loqi, and Ignis hurries to his side to find him cupping his finger, which drips blood into the sink.

“I’ve warned you before that those knives are very sharp,” he says, fetching the first aid kit out of the drawer to see to the wound. Once it’s cleaned and covered with a dressing, Ignis lifts Loki’s hand and gently kisses the injured finger.

“You’ll live.”

[deanssweetheart23]

Over Our Heads

Title: Over Our Heads

Summary: When Sam leaves you and Dean alone in the bunker to have a movie night all by yourselves, feelings that have been under wraps for years begin to surface. Will it be the start of something new or will it turn into yet another moment you’ve had with the eldest Winchester?

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester (mentioned)

Word count: 2482

Warnings: Language, the slightest bit of angst. Pure fluff.

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @idreamofhazel ‘s and @impala-dreamer ‘s “Sammy Says” writing challenge. First of all, congratulations to both of you amazing human beings because you deserve it. Second of all, thank you so much for letting me participate, I loved writing this.

Also, I’d like to thank my amazing twin @ravengirl94 for putting up with my whining and for helping me figure out what I wanted to do with the ending here. Thank you so, so much, Emily, you’re the absolute best.

Now about this fic: My prompt was “You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?” and is included in bold in the text below. (This is written both from the reader’s and Dean’s POV and includes a flashback in italics.)

Your fingers curled into your palm whilst you sat on Dean’s bed, head rested against the headboard, body just mere inches away from his as the world in the screen before you came to life.

It was one of those rare nights that you had nowhere to be and nothing to do. Miraculously enough, the world seemed to be doing just fine without you and the Winchesters brothers were more than happy to take advantage of all of that tranquility and stagnation while it lasted. Sam, for instance, had already hit the bar for the night -he had said something about needing to spend some time with himself but you were pretty sure that his sudden outing had something to do with that beautiful librarian that had been flirting with him all week- while, much to your surprise, the older Winchester had decided to spend a lazy night in with you, filled with cooking and silly jokes, wonderfully interesting conversations and laughter.

However, as fantastic as the evening had been, it was getting late and you were getting more and more tired.

Stifling a yawn, you turned to see Dean already staring at you, green eyes bright and wide in the dim light of the bedroom.

“What?” you asked.

He smiled that half-smile of his that always caused your heart to flutter unevenly.

“C’mere.” He whispered, arm draping over your shoulder to pull you to him.

You opened your mouth to object but the look on his face, vulnerable and intense, pierced through your very soul and you leaned against him, letting his warmth seep into your skin and his scent, so utterly and uniquely Dean, to overwhelm your senses, comfortably resting your head on the crook of his neck.

“Better now?”

You hummed in response, placing your hand on his stomach, relishing in the moment you got to see Dean as the soft, tender man he really was, the armor of the macho guy he always put up long forgotten around you.

Not too long after that, Emma and Dexter appeared on the screen for the first time and you smiled and let out a small content sign, thrilled to be watching the movie you loved so much with the green-eyed man.

He noticed. Of course.

“This better be worth it, kid, or I swear-”

“Ssssh. We have a deal.” You reminded him.

He groaned and mumbled something that sounded awfully like You’re going to ruin me under his breath, but you saw him smiling fondly at the memory.

“But Deeeaaaannn…”

“Nope. No. Not gonna happen, Y/N.” The hunter chanted, shaking his head at your almost childlike behavior, arms folded before his chest in his notorious I’m-not-amused pose.

“But-”

“Uh-uh. No buts. Turn on the charm all you want, sweetheart, but you and I are not watching a chick-flick.”

“Oh, c’mon, D. Please. Pleasepleasepleasplease.” You whined, batting your long eyelashes in that way that almost always got you what you wanted, puppy dog eyes on, hands clasped together as you waited for the verdict.

“The answer’s no, Y/N. Just give it up already.”

“No, Dean. I’ll…” You paused, pensive. “I’ll cook breakfast and dinner for you for a month.”

The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you had the chance to rethink them and caught Dean so off guard that he stopped dead in his tracks and glanced towards you, brows slanted.

“A month?” he repeated, squinting at you suspiciously.

You swallowed thickly.

“Uh-huh.”

“What about the laundry?” he asked after a second, poker-faced.

“Sam can do the laundry.” You objected but as soon as you saw the expression that had already coated his features you just came to terms with the fact you were going to be the Winchester’s personal maid for the next month.

You took a deep breath.

Go big or go home, right?

“Fine. I’ll do the laundry too.”

“Good.” he mumbled, a tantalizing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “And how would you feel about giving me a lap dance?”

“Jesus Christ! What the- You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?”

“Oh, c’mon! Where’s the fun in that?”

You growled, eyes dangerously narrowed because that ass was wearing his famous infuriating grin again, the one that made you want to slap his stupid face and kiss him at the same time.

“You’re sick.” You hissed.

Dean broke into a fit of laughter, loose but real.

“Uh-huh. C’mere.” He whispered, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you to him. You struggled a bit but he was too stubborn to stop and, in all honesty, you didn’t mind being in his arms. You never minded.

His hands came to cup your face.

“’M sorry.”

You eyed him deliberately, head titled to the left, lips pursed.

“No, you’re not.”

He chuckled.

“No, I’m not.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

His voice had dropped to a whisper now, an edge to it that reminded you of that night the two of you had spent on the floor of a cheap motel room, a bottle of whiskey in hand as he slowly spoke of happier times, times when his mother would bake him pie after lunch and sing him to sleep with Hey Jude instead of a lullaby.

You briefly wondered what you had done to cause that change in his demeanor but stopped yourself almost immediately; reading too much into things would only cause you pain.

So, instead, you pouted playfully, all the walls you had so carefully crafted up again.

“Am not. I’m scary and dangerous”

He smiled, soft but radiant.

“Sure you are, tiger.” He kissed your temple. “You win this round. But if you tell Sammy about this I swear, I’ll-”

“Don’t worry, D. My lips are sealed.” You promised and pecked his cheek sweetly, in love with the way the tips of his ears instantly turned a light shade of pink.

Your heart beat just a little faster in your chest.

Maybe Sam was right after all.

Maybe there was hope for you and Dean.

By the time the plot of the movie had thickened, the alcohol you’d drank earlier that evening, along with the delicious burger Dean had cooked for you and the blissful feeling of your body pressed against his own were enough to make you sleepy.

You had almost surrendered to sweet serenity when Dean tensed next to you, letting out a deep, desperate breath.

“Everything okay?” you muttered, worried.

“Um, no. What is that guy even doing?” he howled, his gorgeous eyes staring at the TV as if he firmly believed that he possessed super powers that would let him change the story unfolding before him. “Is he… Is he going to marry Sylvie?”

You nodded ever so slightly, trying hard to suppress your smile.

“Yup.”

“But. He doesn’t love her. He loves Emma.”

“Yup.”

“Oh my God. What a douche.”

This time you couldn’t help it. You laughed.

“What?”

“You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Dean snorted, seemingly amused by the idea.

“Pfft? Enjoying this? Nope. Not at all.”

“Yeah, okay. Next time we can watch The Notebook, Cuddle Pants.” You teased, stifling a laugh.

The green-eyed man groaned and slapped the back of your head playfully.

“Shut up, brat.”

“You’re the…” A yawn. “You’re the brat.”

He smirked.

“You tired, kid?”

“Nope. M’ fine.” You replied, voice laced with sleep. “Just going to rest my head here real quick. ‘Cause you’re… You’re all warm and soft.” You added, sliding closer to him, head on his lap.

It should have been awkward, a line you probably shouldn’t have crossed, yet, with Dean, it felt easy and simple. But then again, things always felt easy and simple when the green-eyed man was concerned. Or maybe it was the alcohol talking. Maybe you had had too much to drink.

Dean chuckled, adoration coating his features.

“Yeah. You do that.”

It wasn’t until minutes later, just when Emma and Dexter kissed for the first time, that you felt a hand threading through your hair and long, gentle fingers massaging your scalp soothingly.

You stirred.

Dean, obviously just now realizing what he was doing, stopped abruptly.

“I’m sorry, I, uh, I’ll just-”

“’S okay, D. Feels nice.” You whispered, eyelids growing heavy.

He cleared his throat quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmm.”

He let out a shaky breath -or, at least, you thought it was shaky- and then his fingers started their ministrations again.

You closed your eyes. With Dean next to you, everything felt safer. Better.

You smiled and let the steady sound of his breathing lull you to sleep.

The screen went dark almost half an hour later, leaving Dean teary-eyed and determined not to show it because Y/N would never let him hear the end of it if she knew.

“Well, Y/N, I have to say…” he stopped in mid-sentence, eyes focused on the sweet girl sleeping on his lap. “Unbelievable. Un-frigging-believable. She made me watch her favorite movie and feel asleep.” he grumbled, eyes flickering over her face almost absentmindedly.

She looked beautiful. Granted, that wasn’t news to him because Y/N always looked effortlessly beautiful, but as she was peacefully asleep curled up next to him, long eyelashes closed, Y/H/C strands of hair falling on her face, his hoodie falling off her left shoulder, she looked gorgeous.

And insanely adorable.

And inexplicably sexy.

And that just wasn’t fair because she made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to feel.

He sighed, clearing his troubled mind.

“Sweetheart, you have to get up…”

Y/N stirred a bit but didn’t open her eyes and he groaned -quite dramatically- and let his head fall back on the headboard.

“C’mon, Y/N. We need to get you to bed.” He tried again, running his fingers through her hair. A lazy smile spread across her lips but she kept her eyes closed, shifting slightly.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

“Fine. I guess you’ll just spend the night here then. Right?”

No answer. Of course.

He huffed out a breath.

“Ugh. I always knew you were a handful, Y/L/N.” He muttered to himself, gently lifting her head and setting her down properly. Stirring, she moved her arm and clutched at his T-shirt, an adorable pout playing at the corners of her lips.

He laughed, grabbing the blanket that sat on the edge of the bed to lay it over her, then leaned in to press a sweet kiss on her forehead, noticing vaguely that she smelled like strawberries and sunshine.

“Goodnight, kiddo…” he smiled.

She mumbled something unintelligibly in return, prompting a chuckle from him as he climbed into the covers and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to draw her closer to him, holding her tight.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, knew that it would only make that hole in his heart bigger every time she even glanced at someone else or laughed at a stranger’s joke or smiled at Sam’s teasing, but he couldn’t help it. She was warm and soft against him, her body fitting perfectly against his own, and even though he knew he’d never be with her, in that moment, he could, at least, pretend.

The sound of quiet sobs mixed with whimpers interrupted his train of thoughts as he felt her feet kicking his from under the blanket, her body twitching.

He wasn’t surprised but his heart still sunk at the sight of her hurting.

Because Y/N didn’t deserve those nightmares. She didn’t deserve the heartache and the decay that came with the life. Sure, she was an incredible fighter and he trusted her with his entire being but that didn’t stop him from wanting something better for her. She was important to him -he somehow knew that from the moment he saved her from that djinn that had captured both of them all those years- and he wanted her to have all the things he couldn’t.

He wanted her to have a family. Children. A husband whom she would adore, even if it wasn’t him.

He wanted her to be happy. Loved. Safe. From the monsters and the demons and the angels. From him.

Dammit, Winchester. Get it together.

Smoothing a hand over her forehead, he stroked her face tenderly.

“Ssssh. It’s okay.”

Another whimper.

Furrowing his brows together in concern, he took the hand she had pressed over his heart and linked their fingers together, slowly bringing them to his lips.

“It’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m right here. Nothing’s bad gonna happen to you while I’m around, I promise.”

As if Y/N had been somehow able to hear him, she let out a small sign and huddled up closer to him, face relaxing a bit, then muttered something he couldn’t understand.

Chuckling a little into her hair, he wrapped his arms tighter around, afraid that if his grip on her wasn’t strong enough, she would slip through his fingers like sand on the beach.

And he didn’t want that. He just wanted to hold her like that, like she was his, utterly and unconditionally his, forever.

Admittedly, it was a selfish and complicated wish and it contradicted everything he wanted for her but it was the only thing he wanted for himself.

She’s in love with you, dude.

Sam’s words echoed soundlessly inside his head. What if his brother was right? What if he was so focused on not reading too much into those late-night conversations, into the accidental brushes of the hands and the lingering forehead kisses and the stolen glances that he’d really misinterpreted everything? What if, by keeping her at arm’s length and lying about his feelings, he wasn’t only sacrificing his own happiness but, also, hers?

“Sweetheart?” he whispered, but he knew that she was too deep into her dreamland to wake up.

He smiled to himself, pushing away a loose strand of hair that had coiled over her cheek.

Her hand gripped at his T-shirt.

His heartbeat quickened a bit but he didn’t mind. He knew she’d never know.

“I love you.”

It was barely a whisper, a secret that would be forever buried into the darkness of the night, something he only thought about in the dim light of his bedroom on nights the world didn’t make sense, a feeling he’d promised himself he’d never voice because he knew that the universe would find a way to take her away from him.

But, as he held her in his arms and felt her sleep next to him, the words felt right in a way nothing had ever felt right before and he knew that she deserved to hear them no matter what.

He sighed and kissed her temple, warm lips lingering on her skin.

Her lips cracked into a peaceful smile.

He grinned.

Tomorrow, he promised himself.

Tomorrow he’d talk to her.

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