#none of the songs really bring out the beauty of his voice

[cosmicdreamgrl]

well. that was........everything i expected and yet i'm still massively disappointed

[rootedinrevisions]

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Saying Something Stupid

Bucky x Y/N

Sometimes things just slip out…

Requests Open!

Warnings: None. Just fluff!

The soft hum of a tune filtered through the compound’s kitchen, mingling with the gentle sizzle of something sweet in a pan.

The hour was early, most of the team still tucked away in their rooms, leaving the vast halls and polished countertops empty save for one person: Y/N. The floor was bathed in warm sunlight, casting long, golden shadows as she worked. And Bucky, who had only come down for a cold beer, paused just outside the kitchen at the sound of her voice.

She was singing softly to herself, her back to him as she swayed in time with the song. He recognized it immediately—a tune from the ‘40s that always brought a bittersweet twinge to his heart. Her voice was soft, but rich with emotion, and she sang with a quiet confidence that left him breathless.

“Don't let this parting upset you I'll not forget you, sweetheart…”

Bucky swallowed hard. It had been years since he’d heard someone sing that song, and something about hearing it here, in the compound kitchen, with Y/N at the stove, made his chest feel heavy and warm.

He didn’t dare move, just leaned his shoulder against the doorway, watching as she flipped something in the pan, still singing.

The lyrics carried him back to old dance halls and sun-dappled parks, to nights spent singing and dancing with friends who had been gone for longer than he cared to remember. But here, now, he felt something new—a warmth that filled in the cracks in his heart, a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in years. Y/N was here, and her voice was bringing back all the good things about his past without the shadows. She brought only light.

It wasn’t until she turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel, that she saw him there. Bucky grinned sheepishly as her eyes widened in surprise.

“Bucky! How long have you been standing there?” she asked, a flush coloring her cheeks. The music fell silent as she turned off the burner, setting her utensil aside to focus on him. Her voice still held that warmth, that energy, but now there was something new: a spark of embarrassment that Bucky found incredibly endearing.

He shrugged, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Long enough to enjoy the show, Doll.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head, but Bucky could see the delight in her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it,” he said, crossing the room to stand beside her. “That was... really somethin’.” He paused, searching for the right words. “You’ve got a beautiful voice, Kitten. I haven’t heard someone sing like that in a long time.”

Her smile softened, and she ducked her head. “It’s just a song,” she murmured, but there was a glint in her eye that told him she knew it was more.

Bucky looked at her, wondering if she knew what her singing did to him, how it lifted the shadows he often found himself lost in. She didn’t know the half of it.

“Not to me,” he said, voice dropping low, almost reverent. He could see her gaze flicker, a shiver running through her as she looked at him, something unspoken passing between them.

“Well,” she started, clearing her throat, “if you’d told me you were here, I could’ve given you a proper performance.”

He chuckled, the low rumble filling the space between them. “Wouldn’t want to distract you while you’re cookin’. Smells amazing, by the way.”

Her eyes lit up. “I had a craving for pancakes,” she said, a little too quickly, like she wanted to cover the silence that had grown between them. “Blueberry, to be specific. Want some?”

“Wouldn’t say no,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, his arms folding casually across his chest as he watched her return to the stove. She worked quickly, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her—her face set in concentration, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the little smile she wore when she thought he wasn’t looking.

It was moments like these that Bucky cherished. They didn’t come often, but when they did, he held onto them, savoring every detail. She filled the spaces in his life that had once felt empty, brightening the corners of his mind that had been shrouded in darkness for so long. And in this light, he found a feeling he hadn’t dared to name until now.

As she plated the pancakes and turned to him, holding out a plate with a grin, the words slipped out before he could catch them.

“Thank you, darling. I love you.”

The words hung in the air, and Bucky’s heart stopped as he realized what he’d just said. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought it, really—it had just slipped out, as natural as breathing, like it was something he’d been saying for years.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly in surprise, the plate of pancakes momentarily forgotten in her hands. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—hope, maybe, mixed with a wonder that made his stomach flip.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I, that…was stupid..uh, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupted, a soft smile growing on her lips. “I can tell when you mean it, Bucky.”

The warmth in her voice, the tenderness in her eyes, made him feel as if his heart might burst. He swallowed, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty, but all he found was love—love for him, unspoken but unmistakable.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did mean it.”

She stepped closer, setting the plate on the counter beside them, her gaze never leaving his. Her hand reached out, brushing his cheek with a touch so gentle it felt like a promise. “I love you too, Bucky. Always have.”

Those words, so simple, so honest, hit him harder than any battle he’d ever fought. All the walls he’d built, all the fears he’d carried, melted away in an instant. For the first time, he felt truly seen, truly known. And in that moment, he knew he was home.

He reached up, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re my whole world, Doll. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling as she laced her fingers through his. “By singing in kitchens at seven in the morning, apparently.”

He chuckled, pulling her close, her warmth grounding him in a way that felt like magic. “Guess I’ll have to start waking up early more often,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into her hair.

“Please don’t,” she teased, her voice muffled against his chest. “You’re terrible in the mornings.”

He laughed, the sound deep and free, and held her tighter, knowing he’d never let her go.

——————————————————————————————————

Enjoy the fluffiness? 🤭

[tomsparkyr]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: y/n is on her world tour and sings a surprise song that might be dedicated to someone …

oscar piastri x fem!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You paced around backstage, twirling your hair with your fingers and going over every step and lyric in your head. Despite it being your 48th show on your world tour, this one felt more intense, more pressuring, purely because you knew he was in the crowd.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a light tap on your shoulder, causing you to snap your head around to the perpetrator.

Oscar Piastri’s wide smile adorned his face and caused a familiar feeling of butterflies to swarm your stomach; reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Ocsar’s shoulders.

He quickly caught into your embrace and cradled the back of your head, kissing your temple. “You’ll do great, I know you will.” He whispered, his free hand running down the embroidered bodysuit that hugged your figure. His brow raised at the beautiful sight of you and couldn’t wait to take the outfit back home.

You heard the crew call your name so you backed away from your boyfriend, “I’ll see you after, I love you.” He bumped his nose with yours, “I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips and sighed into you, your hands reaching into his hair. You pulled back, “Ok, Osc I really have to go.” He pulled you back in by your waist.

“They can wait.” He mumbled, “They’ve paid and sat in this boiling weather to see me, you see me every day, Osc!” You laughed as he reluctantly let go, “I’ll bring the orange bodysuit home if you let me go now.” He quickly dropped his hands off your waist and skipped back to his VIP tent, hearing your laughter as he disappeared further from you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rumour spread pretty quickly that a Formula 1 Driver was spotted in the VIP tent of your concert. But fans didn’t think much of it, rather traded friendship bracelets with him and took blurry, grainy photos of him for fan pages.

However, fan’s perception changed as you sat down in front of your piano for the surprise songs.

“Hello Sydney!” You laughed into the microphone, hearing the Aussie crowd erupt in cheers and hollers at the song of their hometown. “I hope you’re all enjoying the show!” The reaction from the crowd was enough to tell you that they seemed to be more than happy with it.

You cleared your throat, taking a subtle glance to the VIP tent as you saw a bright orange cap catch your attention. You smiled at his direction, knowing his would return it despite you not being able to see his face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sydney…” You couldn’t help your broad smile lighten up your face at the screams from fans at the barricade.

“The song I’m going to play you is one I haven’t done before… it’s one of my favourites and it means the a lot to me and …others.”

The crowd got impossibly louder, “Here we go…” You adjusted the microphone and looked down at the piano, smiling to yourself and you played the first notes.

None of the fans had clocked onto which song you were playing yet, which made it much more enjoyable for you; taking a deep breath as you sang the first lyric.

“My love was a cruel as the cities I lived in”

Fans began screaming and so many flashes of people filming appeared, people crying and jumping up and down at the song choice.

“I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you”

Your red cheeks and genuine smile was pure and making the fans go wild.

Oscar stood in the VIP tent with a smile and blushing cheeks, swaying to your voice knowing he wrote this song with you. He mouthed the lyrics in time with you and looked at you with heart eyes; a pure look of raw, scream-it-from-the-rooftops love.

“I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight”

You peered over to the VIP tent and saw his orange cap moving along to the beat, the same colour matching the dress that covered your shoulders as of now.

It took the fans a moment for them to realise what was going on, connecting the dots; the love song, the interview, the colour of your dress, the colour Oscar Piastri sports, why Oscar was there, the blush on both of your cheeks.

Holy shit. Y/N Y/L/N and Oscar Piastri were in love.

“I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden”

yourusername just posted!

liked by landonorris, taylorswift and 12,392,392 others

yourusername all the love songs were about u, my lover🧡

tagged: oscarpiastri

comments are disabled!

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[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!Fem Reader

Summary: Venus goes on live after rehearsal and lets her fans take a glimpse into what her and Joe's nights together are like.

Chapter 24: Mr. Perfect

#Track9 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

TW: implied smut, language, haters.

WC: about 2k

Part 1 🖤

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

@musicbyvenus has started an Instagram Live! Come join!

“Hello, all you beautiful people. How are my babes doing tonight? I haven’t done this in a hot minute, so be patient with me. I had a really long day and thought the best way to unwind would be for me to unload onto my darling fans.” The woman chuckled to herself while watching the viewer count grow by hundreds per minute.

Tell us all about your day bestie!

How are rehearsals going?

Are you gonna release the set list yet?

How’s Joe doing?

Where’s Joe?!?

“Wow these are coming in fast. I’m going to try and answer as many of your questions as possible, but thank you guys for just being here with me. I know I tend to go a bit awol with my public appearances, so I appreciate everyone here. Rehearsals are going great, I’m very happy with how the show is looking.”

 @MarsOfficial Im expecting a least two Hamilton songs while I’m in attendance 

“You always expect so much of me; you’re starting to sound like my mother, Y/Bff.”

@MarsOfficial then maybe you should start listening to me

A light-hearted giggle makes its way into the air as she reads her best friend’s comment. “I always listen to you!”

@MarsOfficial fat liesssss

“Y'all listen; the only reason I am in a relationship right now is because Y/Bff and Riana, two of my best friends, literally pushed us together. None of this would’ve happened without them.”

“What wouldn’t have happened without who?” A deep voice coming from behind her says.

OMG ITS JOEY

Joe said shit i have to work lol

PLEASE ASK HIM TO STAY

ON GOD HES SO HOT

I DON'T KNOW WHY I expected him to walk in shirtless, but I’m kinda disappointed 

IS HE COMING TO THE LA SHOW???

“I was talking about how we got together.” Y/n peaks behind herself to watch the quarterback snicker while fishing through their kitchen cabinets.

“Oh you mean when your friends pretended to be my ex to make you jealous? Yea they were a great help.” Joe rolled his eyes while grabbing a snack and a bottle of water. “I’ll have you know, I was fully capable of doing that on my own.”

@Riri.intl24 why is he lying, he had almost two years to make a move and DIDNT

“Riana begs to differ. Can you grab me-“ Y/n’s cut off by her own water and snack being dangled in front of her. “Thank you.”

WHAT A GENTLEMAN 

UGH I WANT ONE

IS THAT A CLIFF BAR

Y/n we’re judging you so hard right now

Joe takes a seat next to her but slightly out of camera. “Of course, and tell Riana I was trying to time it right.”

“Ok Mr. Time-Is-Of-The-Essence.” She smirked, then turned back to her phone. “Why are you people roasting my cliff bar?”

@MarsOfficial because you once said it tasted like good dirt then proceeded to inhale one

“I’m going to ignore that. Let’s answer some questions! Yes, Joey’s going to be at the LA show. I am not releasing the set list, but I do have an announcement regarding it. I’ve decided that my show will be about 2 hours long and each show will have 3-4 different surprise songs. I’m very excited about that. If yall have been keeping up on X, then you’d know the first show’s theme is ‘Slumber Party’. Unfortunately I can’t kick anyone out if they don’t dress up-“

ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO PERFORM HAMILTON SONGS?

Is Walk Like This on the Set List

“Fantastic.”

THE NERVE

“You are not anyone, you have to dress up.” She pointed at the man.

YESSS SIS

You should bring him on stage with you!

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

Joey shook his head and sighed, “I was joking babe, kinda.”

“Uh huh sureeee. Whoever asked about Walk Like This, this answer is 100%. I absolutely love that song and the choreo, ugh amazing. I can’t wait to perform it.”

What song is Joe most excited for?

What songs will you absolutely NOT be singing?

Is ‘The One’ on the no list?

“I don’t even have to ask him which one he wants to see the most. Joey?”

“Crazy for You.” He smiled.

“See, he’s extremely predictable.”

scripted

“Ok hold on, I also like what you did with Tell Me You Love Me.” He so kindly added.

“Why thank you kind sir.”

@lahjay10_ gross

We love a supportive boyfriend 

Husband Material

Get married please

ADOPT ME

Not all of Team Shiesty being in the comments

It's in their dating contract

“Yall are too funny.” Y/n looks over at Joe to see him with his head thrown back laughing. “What is it?”

“Your accent.” He coughed out.

“Joey, I don't have an accent.” She pouts.

Nahhh we know a southern belle when we hear one

Someone forgot she’s from Georgia

You’d think it’d get weaker the longer she stays up north

orrrr maybe she still has it because she doesn't actually live in Ohio

“Yes you do, but don’t worry I think it’s absolutely adorable.”

“I can’t with you.” She rolled her eyes, but the smile spreading across her cheeks told him otherwise.

@MarsOfficial I KNEW IT 

@MarsOfficial I knew he had a thing for your country shit

“Aight, we are getting off task! Is there a No list? Technically yes, but no ‘The One’ is not on it. And before any of you start, Joseph, please tell the people how you feel about ‘The One’ once and for all.” Y/n turns the phone so the fans have a full picture of him.

“I feel like people have been waiting and praying for this moment.” He chuckles brushing his fingers through his hair. 

CAUSE WE HAVEEEEE

TELL USSSS

WE NEED TO KNOW

He raises his right hand. “Ok, everyone listening. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals.” 

“Oh my god.”

“I’m trying to deliver an address here, princess.” He said sternly. She pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key.

Stop making me feel singleeee

“Ok where were we, right. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals, solemnly swear that Track Nine is one of my actual favorite songs that Y/n has put out. Now all the commotion stops here, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.” As he finishes, they lock eyes and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.

I knew it wasn’t that serious

We were clickbaited

THEY FOOLED US

Social Media is the devil

@MarsOfficial I tried to tell you

Her next project is gonna go so crazy

Hiiii from Canada

Instead of turning the phone back towards his girlfriend, Joey gently cuffs her waist and pulls her over to himself so she can continue her job. Then rests his hand over her shoulder.

Yoooo if you couldn’t see the height difference then, you def see it now🤭

Ugh they look so damn good together 

Yall should do an whole day in the life

What happened to not liking cameras Joey???

“Okay guys, I think I’m gonna take a few more questions then call it a night.”

Noooo

Has Joe seen the entire show?

Booooo

Yes get off so Joe can get off from work and see his real girl

European fans here!!!

What is your ideal date night?

“I know I know, but our dinner’s almost here so we gotta wrap this up. No, he has not seen the whole show. I need my man to be surprised too. More importantly, he has no clue how Crazy for Me is being set.” She smirked as she felt his hand move down to her thigh.

Oh they gon wrap something else up tonight too

“Oh but does my mind wonder.” He bites his lip, no longer able to pay attention to anything but the woman on his right.

Omg the sexual tension is brewing

His hand continues to stroke her thigh until his phone goes off. “Fuck, food’s here.” He gets up and rounds the couch, but before he completely passes her their dark eyes meet and he makes a quick stop. 

@MarsOfficial I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, they are literally CRAZY for each other

Dream vacation??

I’m sorry why can’t a man look at me like that

She was right about this not lasting very long

Shiiiiii I wonder how long HE lasts👀

@lahjay10_ yalls comments are getting out of hand

A strong but gentle hand lightly pulls her head back and they smile before he connects his lips to hers for a shy but sweet kiss, then he pecks her forehead and leaves the frame. 

AGAIN A MAN LIKE THAT PLEASE

GOD WHOEVER IS LISTENING THANK YOU

That looked mad forced

You make me feel so single🤧

If you weren’t famous, what would you be doing?

Y/n quickly clears her throat before looking back at her comments. 

@lahjay10_ oh god, get that off of my phone

She’s so flusteredddd

Girl we understand whewwww

“Uno, go away. Okay um, speed round. Dream vacation is definitely Greece. Ideal date night depends on how we’re feeling, but you can’t go wrong with a nice restaurant then coming home and getting in the hot tub. If I weren’t famous what would I be doing?”

Joe Burrow.

The man right behind you

That one Cincinnati quarterback maybe🤭

regular shit because they wouldn't even know each other

yall are unhinged 

Her eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend setting up their dinner. “Hmmmm yes to the first three.”

QUEEN

@Riri.intl24 Girl focus!

@MarsOfficial Ridiculous.

“Ok but for real if I wasn’t famous I guess I’d be trying to put myself through school.” She shrugged.

“Nope, you’d be in your residency program like you’re supposed to because I’d take care of everything. Now sign off of there so I can have my dessert.” He stated from the background.

“We didn’t order any dessert.”

Joe darkly smiled, “we didn’t have to. Everything I want is already here.”

HOT SHIT

OMG

thats so scripted🥱

I THREW THE PHONE

MSKSKFYCYHC

GIRL GO

“Fuck me.” She says under her breath, then reaches for her phone. 

“I’m trying.” 

SCREAMING

@lahjay10_ imma clown his ass for this so much

@MarsOfficial Venus you need to move faster

@Riri.intl24 Esa comida no se comerá pronto

(translation: that food is not getting eaten anytime soon)

“Jesus, bye babes. Love yall, and I can’t wait to meet you soon.” She stands, blows the camera a quick kiss, and turns off the phone.

As she walks toward the dining room, he meets her half way and backs her up against a wall. “Fucking finally, I’ve wanted you since I first walked in.” 

His hands go straight to her soft waist and his lips meet hers with an intense fervor. Breathless moans are smothered against his lips and her fingers tangle in his hair. “Wha-what about the food?” 

Joe grips her ass, his lips pull off of hers, and they begin to suck purple bruises on her neck and behind her ear. “You always say it tastes better after it's reheated anyway.” 

He pecks her lips and smiles at his handy work: her lips swollen and red, eyes burning with a dark desire, neck glistening with a shiny magenta hue and knees trembling from the pressure. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her face heats up as she takes in the sight of her lover with a matching set of glossy lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything, and I’m about to show you exactly how much.” He smirks then throws her over his shoulder and takes off towards the bedroom. 

“Joey!”

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

a/n: part two this weekend♡

<<< Ch. 23: Tour Countdown | Part Two >>>

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 2: Wrapped in a Fuzzy Blanket

Fili x Hobbit!reader

wc: 0.8k

warnings: none

a/n: this is written in 3rd person which I haven't really done in my fics before. I really like how it turned out though, maybe not for an all the time kinda thing but I think it works really well here

Dwarves are sturdy. There is no doubt about that, they can go days without eating (though they will complain the whole time) they can fight long battles without getting tired and they can weather the cold with little struggle. 

Hobbits are not sturdy, they are a gentle folk who enjoy the comforts of home and hearth and there is nothing wrong with that. It just means that on nights like these, where fifteen people crowd around one fire, they can get cold.

Fili hears her teeth chattering from across the camp, he notices the shake of her hands and the soft almost unconscious way her eyelids flutter against her ever reddening cheeks. He would find it deeply endearing if he weren’t so worried that she would freeze. 

He swiftly cast a glance over to Bilbo, to see if the gentleman Hobbit was just as affected by the night chill as she was. A quick look told Fee that Bilbo was not cold, at least not noticeably. Although that could have something to do with the large fur coat draped around his shoulders. One with a royal blue lining that Fili recognized but would not dare to mention. At least not in his Uncle's presence. 

Fili scans the camp in search of something, eyes landing on his own pack. Within it holds a handmade blanket his Amad had made him when he had told her he would be setting off on the journey. 

“The mountains get cold Fili, even for Durin’s folk.” She had chastised him when he had tried to tell her that he wouldn't need it, that such frivolities would only weigh his pack down.

He makes a mental note to apologize the next time he sees her, she was right, he would need it. Just looking at the shivering lass was making his own bones feel cold. Without a word he grasps the soft cloth and tugs it out from his pack, it still smells faintly of home. An old comfort that he cherished more than the warmth the garment could provide. 

He tries to be disappointed that the smell will be replaced by hers but deep down, he can’t even convince himself. It would be a gift from Mahal for her sweetness to seep into the fabric, for her scent to coat the inside of his pack. He represses a shiver of his own just thinking about it.

Standing swiftly he makes his way over to the lass, she doesn’t make a move to acknowledge his presence, just stares steadily into the burning flames as if the warmth would invade her through sight alone. 

He wishes, with all he is that he could know what she was thinking. Just once he would like a glimpse into the beautiful creation that is her mind. Are her thoughts consumed with the songs he so often finds her humming under her breath? Does she tell herself stories of the world around her, like the ones she weaves for Ori when he pleads with her? Or does she think of someone in particular, of a love she holds dear? Perhaps it is a Hobbit from back home, perhaps someone else? What he wouldn’t give for just a single moment in her mind.

He settles for taking care of her body instead, fluffing the blanket in the air and watching it float down on top of her shoulders. He wraps it around her and catches her gaze when she snaps her eyes towards his. 

“Thank you, Fee,” Her voice is soft, just like the rest of her. It floats gently on the wind into his mind, carving out a space in his memory. Not before long that is all his memory will be; brief moments of her. He can’t bring himself to care.

He says nothing to her, just smiles and nods and hopes that she understands. Understands that a blanket is nothing; that he would do so much more if only she asked. He would capture the sun in a bottle if it would keep her warm. 

He catches the moment she brings the blanket to her nose, inhaling deeply. He watches with deep satisfaction as her shoulders loosen. The tension she had been holding all day melts from her bones. 

Fili wonders not for the first time why she decided to come along with this rowdy group of dwarves in the first place. The reason she consistently gave was that she needed to watch out for her dear friend Bilbo, that she simply would not let him adventure without her. But Fili thought that it might have a little more to do with that look of longing he sometimes caught in her eye. With the fire that he sees raging within her soul. 

Fili really would give anything for just a moment in her head.

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[iliketangerines]

I don't know if you had written one already or not but can you do one where Bihan realizes that he has feelings for a female reader that is an earthrealm champion and Kuai Liang encourages him to ask the reader out on a date?

it's a date

a/n: um, not proofread

pairing: bi han x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Bi Han avoids trying to stare at you from across the training fields, trying to mind his own business on training the champions

but every single time he finds his gaze drifting back to you, simply observing the champions as you fidget with the instrument in your hands

he knows who you are, has trained with you even, and he clenches his jaw, bringing his gaze away from you once again to focus on the scene in front of you

you’re simply a mentor here at the Fire Temple, nothing more, nothing less, a disciple of Liu Kang’s, and Bi Han should feel nothing for you, not a single thing

he looks ahead at Kung Lao’s form, a muscle straining in his jaw as he stares at the preposterous form, and he still wasn’t over the fact that the man had thrown a chakra at him

a simple farmer would not be the end of him, but the fact that Kung Lao even had the gall to think he could kill a Lin Kuei was insulting

before Bi Han can even open his mouth, you’re by Kung Lao’s side, using your flute as a device to help the farmer correct his posture

Kung Lao gives you a smirk, thanking in a low gravely voice that Bi Han knows is not his regular one, and you give the farmer a polite smile and walk back to your spot

you barely brush by Bi Han, the long flowing robes of your hanfu just barely drifting across Bi Han’s arms, and yet it sends a chill down his spine that no ice ever would

Bi Han snaps his eyes away from you once again, having found himself staring at your backside and only when your eyes meet his does he realize that he’s staring you again

unfortunately, when he turns back, he finds Kung Lao and Raiden staring at you as well, and he barks at them to continue practicing their stances

they clear their throats and go back to focusing on their own routines, but he catches every single glance they throw towards you

he wishes that he could go to another training field so that you could be away from prying eyes, but Tomas was training with the other two champions while Kuai Liang discussed Lin Kuei matters with Liu Kang

and well, going to the other training field meant that you would be out of Bi Han’s sight, and as much as he disliked Kung Lao and Raiden beng in your sights, he disliked the idea of not seeing you at all

training seems to pass by slowly for Bi Han, gritting out orders to the two farmers, getting them to stop looking at you in the corner, getting himself to stop looking at you as well

Bi Han doesn’t really know why you’ve decided this training field as your spot to perch today, but he finds out soon enough when he hears a flute start to play

he turns his head around and finds you, your plush lips pressed to the smooth wood, your eyes focused on a spot near the border of the training field, and the clean beautiful sound of a song plays from you

it doesn’t take long when a family of cats pokes their head out of the bushwork, staring at you and chirping happily, rushing towards you

one mother cat, several smaller kittens follow behind dutifully, and all of them gather around you, piling into your lap and around your body

irrationally, Bi Han feels jealous, that he should be the one resting in your lap, that he should be the one sitting next to you and pressing into you for warmth

he knows that these feelings are ridiculous, and he clears his throat and turns his gaze back to Kung Lao and Raiden on the training fields

they’ve disappeared, and Bi Han whips his head around to find them sitting next to you, playing with the kittens as the mother cat sleeps peacefully in your lap

your soft hand pets the soft fur gently and watch and guide Kung Lao and Raiden gently how to play with the kittens

Bi Han stalks over, gaze focused on you, ice gathering on his hands because the two of them should be focused on training and you shouldn’t even be here, let alone distracting the two of them

and somehow all of his ice melts away when you look up at him with a gentle smile and scoop up one of the small kittens in your hands, placing your flute off to the side

you hand him the small kitten and before Bi Han can disagree, the small kitten launches themselves at the assassin and Bi Han naturally cradles the small fluffy thing in his cold hands

it only curls into his palms, purring loudly at the chill in the heat of the day, and you laugh, a sound that he swears comes from the heavens themselves, and say that that small kitten particularly likes him

Bi Han grunts out that the two of them should go back to training, and you only smile at him, only a few seconds later, the bell signaling lunch ringing into the air

Kung Lao perks up immediately, standing up and grabbing onto Raiden’s hands, waving the two of you goodbye as Kung Lao drags Raiden off to lunch, leaving Bi Han alone with you

you stand up slowly, picking up the mother cat, and she doesn’t seem to care, opening her eyes only slightly to let you perch her up and around your shoulders and neck and then closing them again as you lean down and pick up the rest of the kitten into your arms

he still holds the singular one in his hands, but it’s squirmed and clawed its way to perch on Bi Han’s shoulder, leaning its soft body into the side of his neck

and yet, he makes no move to remove the small offending thing, relishing in the soft smile and giggle you give him, saying that the look suited him before you start walking off to lunch

something possesses Bi Han, and so he follows you to the lunch room, kitten on his shoulders, and he almost snorts at the irony that he’s following you like a lost puppy

Bi Han enters the lunch room, immediately catching how Kuai Liang and Tomas stare at him wide-eyed, almost bewildered by the sight of him holding something so precious and gentle and soft and useless on his shoulder

so desperately does he want to sit next to you, to bathe in the rest of your warmth and to talk with you or to simply just be near you

but he must discuss proceedings with his brothers, must talk to Liu Kang about future trainings, the future of Earthrealm-

you snap him out of his thoughts when you ask him to hold your tray of food for you, it’s a bit difficult with all the kittens in your arms

an agreement flies from his mouth before he can even process when he’s thinking, and you give him a sweet smile and thank him, heat blooming across his face

the kitten on his shoulder gives him no trouble as he grabs two trays of food, only meowing loudly in his ear as the kittens in your arms watch with wide eyes at the trays of food

finally, you sit down at one of the tables, near Liu Kang, and the kittens clamber off of you to go and crowd the Fire God, meowing at him loudly and curling up into his heat

only the mother cat stays with you, but you don’t seem to mind as your hands finally grab onto your chopsticks, and you thank Bi Han for helping you

he only grunts, white-knuckling his tray and walks over to his brothers to discuss with them what had happened today

Bi Han sits down, setting his tray down perhaps a little too loudly and a little too uncharacteristically, but he ignores the glances from his brothers and starts talking about business, picking up his chopsticks and picking at the food on his plate

Tomas does not answer when Bi Han asks how training with the actor and the swordsman had gone, eyes slightly too wide and mouth parted as he stares at the kitten on Bi Han’s shoulder

Kuai Liang says it first, asking how you had convinced him to carry a kitten with him, and he says that he did not want the kitten to be with him

the distinct lack of moving the purring little thing on his shoulder seems to disprove his argument, less so when it meows in his ear and Bi Han grabs onto the cooked chicken in his hands and tears a strip a piece of it off and feeds it to the small kitten

Tomas is the next one to say that Bi Han had helped you with your food because you had encumbered yourself

Bi Han says that you needed help and so he helped, and Tomas nearly chokes on his food, never did Bi Han help people who had put themselves into those sort of situations

Kuai Liang pats at Tomas’s back and takes a second to respond, one brow raising, glances between Bi Han and the kitten

and then a smirk spreads across his face as he points at Bi Han, saying that the eldest brother liked you

the grandmaster has to stop himself from leaping across the table and strangling Kuai Liang as he feeds the kitten another strip of chicken

he denies that he liked you, practically growling and glaring at his brother, resisting the urge to kick at Kuai Liang’s shin

it only urges the second brother in his excitement, voice raising as he exclaimed that the Lin Kuei grandmaster did liked you

Bi Han ends up kicking Kuai Liang in the shin anyway, and the second eldest grunts and glares at Bi Han, who only glares back at him

clearing his throat, the grandmaster says that he does not like you, that even if he did, that you would not even accept him

Kuai Liang practically jumps up and out of his seat, saying that you most definitely liked the grandmaster back, why else would you entrust him with a kitten and your food

Bi Han only waves off his brother, finally feeding himself as the kitten settles down on his shoulder and starts to drift off to sleep

Tomas picks up the conversation, saying that he should try anyway, maybe it could lead to something more, an opportunity at some point

opportunity, it was something that the Lin Kuei never capitalized on, and Bi Han restrained himself from visibly perking up at the idea of finally taking an opportunity, even if it was something a bit more selfish

Kuai Liang blinks at Bi Han, his lips curling up into a smile, and he leans across the table, saying that he should ask you out soon, perhaps even today, so that he could see you again, something about returning the kitten

Bi Han clears his throat, switching the conversation back to business about the Lin Kuei and trainings

he thinks about it for the rest of the day, the kitten surprisingly docile and low-energy, opting to spend most of its time napping on Bi Han’s shoulder as he trained the actor and the swordsman in the other training field

unfortunately, you had not followed, but he had felt your eyes on his back as he disappeared from the dining halls

it was only when Bi Han arrived back at his room that the kitten hopped off his shoulder and began exploring, pouncing about every corner of the room

the grandmaster simply ignored the small skittering cat on his floor, opting to change into his sleep robe and get ready for bed

as he brushes his hair, Bi Han hears a knock on his door, soft and gentle, and he has to refrain himself from yelling at the person on the other side of the door to leave

opening the door, his stern expression drops at the sight of you, dressed in a thin nightgown and holding the mother cat in your arms

you smile up at him, peering around his shoulders into the room and perking up at the sight of the kitten in his room roaming around

Bi Han almost misses you asking if you could have the kitten back, that the mama cat had grown quite antsy without one of her children, and the grandmaster has to clear his throat and pretend he wasn’t admiring how the moonlight curved around the features of your face

he says that he can and scoops the kitten into his palm, a slight pang in his heart as he hands the kitten over to you

you thank him, bowing your head slightly, but before you can leave, Bi Han calls for you to wait, heat spreading through his body once more

it was strange, the heat instead of the cold that consumed him, but at the same time, it was addicting, the sight of you staring at him with wide eyes, the soft lilt of your voice as you asked what else he needed

Bi Han clears his throat, looking off to the side just briefly, a thrumming in his chest that he hadn’t felt since he was a small child, and he asks if he could see you again tomorrow, to see the kitten he had all day

a smile falls onto your lips, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you say that of course he can, that he can meet you in the same training field just right before lunch and that it’s a date

whatever was happening in Bi Han’s brain short circuit at your words, unable to say much more as he watches you turn around, the sight of your back disappearing around the corner

he drags a hand over his face, sighing into his palm, asking himself what sort of fool he had become for you

and yet, the feeling of heat and something more than just training regiments and fighting thrills him, has him chasing for more than just his usual life

a date indeed

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 22 - All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi beauties! Quick disclaimer, a lot of the scenes in this episode have songs that inspired it. Soooo, I’ll interrupt for a few seconds every now and then to tell you. Thank you for reading!

The first song inspo is Let The World Burn by Chris Grey:)

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Y/N’s cold lifeless body laid on the old mattress, her head lolled to the side, her features relaxed. Dean leaned on the door framed, a distant and heartbroken expression coated his face as Sam and Jo sat by the bedside. Sam was still in hysterics, the guilt of her death weighing on his chest.

Losing Y/N was one thing, but losing her to a knife that was meant for him. It was heart wrenching for Sam Winchester. He remembered the day she came to him about the dream she had and he told her not to worry about it. They summed it up to the stress of the job. God he felt stupid.

Jo was trying to console a guilt and grief-laden Sam, but she wasn’t far behind. First losing Ash, not having any idea where her mom could be since they didn’t find her body in the rubble and now losing Y/N right in front of their eyes?

Dean was quiet, standing with his arms crossed against the door frame. He felt numb. He couldn't even bring himself to cry. The pain was too intense, too overwhelming. He just stood there in silence, watching as Sam and Jo tried to comfort each other.

‘I shouldn't have fallen in love’

‘Look what it made me become’

‘I let you get too close’

Sam's tears kept falling as he sat next to Y/N. He couldn't bear the weight of the guilt and the grief. He felt responsible for her death, like he should have done something, anything to stop it.

Dean couldn't bear to look at her lifeless body anymore. He had to look away, the sight of her cold, pale skin was too much for him to bear. He stood silently outside the door, watching as Sam and Jo sat by her bedside.

Dean knew that Sam was going through guilt, he could see it in his brother's face. But Dean couldn't bring himself to offer any comfort. He was too lost in his own guilt and grief to even think of comforting his brother.

“Kids?” Bobby’s voice echoed through the house as the door opened. None of them answered, Jo just continued to rub Sam’s back as his sobs lessened, wiping away her own tears. “I brought you this back,” Bobby told them, holding up two bags with food boxes.

“No, thanks, I’m fine” Dean muttered in a deadpan tone. “Y’all should eat something,” Bobby insisted. Jo and Sam didn't respond either, they all just sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Sam’s sobs reduced to soft sniffles as Jo comforted him, her own tears continuing to fall silently.

Dean clenched his jaw, keeping his gaze on the ground. “We’re fine, Bobby,” Jo assured him softly. Dean padded over to the table, picking up the whiskey before taking a large swig of it. They were out of earshot from Sam and Jo. Bobby watched as Dean downed the whiskey, his eyes fixed on the younger man's face.

He could sense the pain and grief etched on his features. He knew Dean was struggling, dealing with the loss of Y/N in his own way. Bobby looked at him, his expression sympathetic. He could tell that Dean was hurting. It was painfully obvious how much he loved her. "Dean..." Bobby began, his voice gentle yet firm.

“I hate to bring this up. I really do. But don’t you think maybe it’s time…we bury Y/N” Bobby said quietly. Dean's head slowly moved up, his eyes burning with anger and pain, but at the same time, we looked dead in the eyes. "No," he huffed. "Absolutely not." His hand tightened on the bottle of whisky, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall.

Bobby's eyes narrowed, understanding the grief and anger that drove Dean's response. “Dean, you can’t keep her here forever,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but steady.

The room fell silent as the weight of Bobby's words hung in the air. It was a harsh reality, one that Dean didn't want to face. Sam heard a murmur of their conversation, telling Jo he’ll be right back before placing a kiss on her hand and stepping out of the room.

“Bobby’s right, Dean” Sam sniffled, his eyes puffy and red. Dean clenched his jaw tighter. He knew Sam and Bobby were right, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. The thought of burying Y/N, saying goodbye forever, was unbearable. "I'm not burying her," he growled, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on the whisky bottle. "Not happening."

Jo stepped out of the room, “Well maybe we can-” She started to suggest, her voice groggy. “What? Torch her corpse?” Dean snapped, sitting on one of the old chairs before taking another swig of the whiskey. Sam and Jo were taken aback by Dean's harsh tone. They understood that he was grieving, but his words were like a punch to the gut.

“That’s not what she would want, Dean,” Jo said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. Dean let out a bitter laugh. “You think you know what she would want? You think anyone knows what she would want?” He stood up from the chair, pacing around the room like a caged animal.

Jo gritted her teeth, “She was my friend too!” She shouted back, pointing to herself, her voice cracking. “No, she was family!” Dean retorted loudly, his voice echoing through the room. "She wasn't just some friend! She was my.." His throat felt like it was closing up, his voice stuck. He couldn't say the word.

Tears welled up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to hold them back. He clenched his fists, hating that he was showing weakness. Dean turned away from Sam and Jo, unable to look at their sympathetic expressions any longer. “She had a vision” Sam muttered as he leaned against the table.

Sam's words made Dean stop pacing, his head snapping towards him. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam took in a shaky breath, "She had a vision, well- a dream. She- she saw me get killed months ago. We talked about it and we decided it was a dream because it wasn’t clear and we were all stressed. I think she had the same vision last night….before she..." Sam’s words got caught in his throat.

Dean’s heart dropped, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. Sam was right. Y/N had a vision and she sacrificed herself for him. “She took the hit for me” Sam chuckled dryly, his heart aching in his chest.

Dean's eyes softened, a mix of guilt and sadness overcoming him. He knew that Sam was beating himself up for Y/N taking the fall for him. The weight of the guilt seemed to be crushing Sam.

"It’s not your fault" Dean said quietly, his voice thick with raw emotion. He didn’t want Sam to blame himself for this. He knew Y/N would never want that. Dean thought for a moment before fishing his keys out of his pocket, tossing it over to Jo.

Jo caught the keys in her hand, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "What are these for?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Dean didn’t look at her, his eyes still focused on the ground. "Take Baby. Just go” Dean said firmly. He had made up his mind on what he wanted to do.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowing. He knew that look in Dean's eyes. He knew that whatever idea that was forming in his head was dangerous and ill-considered. “Nowhere. Sam, Jo. Go.” He gritted his teeth, pointing at the door.

"We’re not going anywhere without you," Bobby stepped in firmly, his arms crossed over his chest. “Would you guys cut me some slack?!” Dean bursted out in rage. “We just don’t think you should be alone, that’s all” Bobby shot back. Dean glared at him, shooting Sam a warning look that said, ‘Go, now. I’m serious’

‘Fear in their eyes’

‘Ash raining from the blood orange sky’

‘I let everybody know that you're mine’

‘Now it's just a matter of time’

Sam understood the look Dean gave him. He sighed, his shoulders sagged in defeat. He knew how stubborn his brother could be. He gave Jo a pleading look, silently communicating to her. Jo’s expression was conflicted, she wanted to stay, to fight for Dean, but she also knew that there were some battles that Dean needed to fight alone.

Jo nodded obediently, sighing heavily. She stuffed Dean’s keys into her pocket, taking Sam’s hand into hers to lead him back to the room where Y/N’s body laid. She wanted to say one last goodbye.

Sam and Jo walked silently back to the room where y/n’s body lay on the bed. Sam's expression was one of despair as they approached the bed. He looked down at her lifeless form, the weight of his guilt pressing heavily on his chest.

Jo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile. "Say your goodbye" she whispered softly. Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. He took a step closer to the bed, his eyes filled with tears. He laid a trembling hand on Y/N's cold cheek, his heart aching in his chest.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice shaky. "You didn’t deserve this. I should have listened to your dream, and I’m so sorry." He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Jo stood silently at the bedside, her own tears streaming down her face.

She watched as Sam said his goodbyes, the pain of the moment palpable in the room. As Sam stepped back, Jo stepped forward, laying a hand on Y/N's cold arm. "I’ll miss you, slut" she whispered, a sad smile on her face. "You were a hell of a woman."

She leaned down, tenderly kissing Y/N’s forehead as Sam had done before. “Tell mom and Ash hi for me. Thanks for letting me know what it’s like to have a sister” Jo’s voice broke. She had lost all hope of her mom being alive, and it tore her apart. It took God power for the huntress to keep it together.

Jo opted for Sam to walk out first, placing her hand at the small of his back. Sam glanced over his shoulder at the dingy old bed where she laid one last time, “See you on the flip side, crackhead” and with that they left Y/N behind, her cold lifeless body motionless on the bed.

-

After Jo and Sam left, Dean was still sitting on the chair. His eyes shooting straight at the bed Y/N was on. Bobby was still with him, “Dean..” Dean's eyes didn't leave the bed. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. The silence in the room was deafening. He knew that Bobby was trying to talk to him, trying to make him see reason, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“I gotta admit. I could use your help” Bobby confessed. Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of his whiskey again. “Something big is going down. End of the world big” Bobby pressed. “Well, THEN LET IT END!!l Dean bellowed, his head snapping up to face Bobby.

‘I'd let the world burn’

‘Let the world burn for you’

‘This is how it always had to end’

‘If I can't have you then no one can’

‘I'd let it burn’

‘I'd let the world burn’

‘Just to hear you calling out my name’

‘Watching it all go down in flames’

Bobby's eyes widened in surprise at Dean's outburst, but he quickly recovered, his expression turning stern again. "You don’t mean that," he gasped. Dean's jaw ticked, his grip on the bottle of whiskey tightening. He pushed himself up from the chair in an instant, going toe to toe with the veteran hunter.

“You don’t think so? Huh? You don’t think I’ve given enough?….You don’t think I’ve paid enough?” With his last statement, he nodded his head towards the bed Y/N laid on. Bobby's face softened as he saw the pain and anger etched on Dean’s face. He knew that he wasn’t just talking about the apocalypse, but also about Y/N.

“I’m done with it. All of it. Now, if you know what’s good for you, turn around and get the hell out of here” Dean’s breathing was heavy, his chest heaving with anger. He was done with all the fighting, the pain, the loss. He just wanted it to end, one way or another. Bobby stood his ground, not backing away. So Dean shoved the elder Hunter harshly, “GO!!!”

Bobby stumbled a bit, taken aback by Dean’s sudden aggression. Heartbreak was written all over Bobby’s face, Dean instantly felt guilty. At the back of his mind, he could feel the ghost of a tap at the back of his head that Y/N would give him for his actions just a few seconds ago.

“I’m sorry” Dean apologized but he didn’t take his words back. He was too angry, too distraught. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore, he wanted to be left alone. Bobby stayed quiet, unsure of what to do or say further. His head spun as he took up the bottle again,

“I’m sorry” Dean’s tone dropped, coming out almost like a whimper. “Please just go” He begged as he gripped the chair for balance. Bobby watched for a moment, his heart aching. He knew that Dean was hurting, that he was struggling to process what happened. But he also knew that Dean was in a dark place and that being alone was not the best thing for him.

But Bobby also knew that pushing him would only make things worse. So, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked towards the door, casting one last glance back at Dean, “You know where I’ll be, son.” before stepping out into the night.

Dean's shoulders sagged as soon as the door shut behind Bobby. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, only the sound of his ragged breathing could be heard. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the reality of what was happening around him. Y/N was dead.

He opened his eyes again and looked at the bed again, her lifeless body laid on it. A single tear falling from his eye.

-

A few hours had passed and it was nearing midnight. Dean had almost finished the bottle, checking the time on his watch every few minutes. Getting lost in his own thoughts.

11:54 pm.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of the bed, his chair now sat in front of Y/N’s side. “You know, when we were little…you and Sam couldn’t have been more than 5…you guys just started asking questions.” A small sad smile broke out on Dean’s face, “How come we didn’t have a mom? How come you didn’t have a mom? We did we always have to move around from safehouse to motel. Where’d our dads go?…They’d take off for days at a time, I remember I begged you”

He took a huge gulp of whiskey, letting the liquid slide down his throat. The burning sensation barely registered as he struggled to keep talking. “Quit asking, princess. Stop talking about it, Sammy. Man, you don’t wanna know” Dean scoffed as he repeated his words as a child to them.

“I just wanted you to be kids. Just for a little while longer. But you weren’t stupid. You had to grow up at such a young age, you never said no when it came to standing up for Sammy in school. Hell- you never said no when it came to kicking our asses in sparring practice” Dean chuckled dryly.

“I remember when F/N hauled my ass from across the country, going batshit crazy looking for you when you ran away. I led the man on a wild goose chase for months” Dean shook his head, “When he finally realized, he told me, ‘I know you’ve been running me around son. And while I don’t appreciate it, I know you’re just doing it because you love and care about my baby.’” Dean repeated F/N’s words to him.

“I was honestly surprised those words came out of the man’s mouth. I was half expecting him to clock me a few until I spilled the beans.” Dean chuckled dryly as he sniffled. “And you…” Dean’s voice cracked, his heart clenching in his chest. He took another gulp of whiskey, trying to drown the lump in his throat.

“You were always there, ever since we were little. Always watching out for us. Saving me from getting my ass kicked by dad and f/n. Keeping Sammy safe. That time you made me clean a whole damn motel floor when I was 16 because I called you something you didn’t like.” He let out a shaky exhale as he remembered the memory. His mind then went back to the night F/N died, a guilt raising in his chest.

“The night your dad died, I yelled and went off on him for not being there when you were electrocuted. And then he ended up getting killed…..it’s been on me ever since because you’ve been so hurt and distant since your dad died…..and you blame yourself meanwhile I’m the one that screamed at him…..I practically put that machete in the vampires hand because it was Sam’s machete she picked up and killed f/n with…..the same one I put down when Luther had his hand around your neck.” Dean choked on his own breath as he confessed to her corpse.

His eyes stung with tears as he continued, guilt and shame filling his heart. He reached out a shaky hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I know you wouldn’t blame me,” he whispered, his voice quivered. “You never blamed me for anything, even when you had every right too. That’s just how you were.” A tear rolled down his cheek, his hand cupped her cheek.

“I always tried to protect you two. Keep y’all safe. Dad and F/N didn’t even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It’s like I had one job…that one job. And I fucked it up. In the end, you were the one protecting us.” His voice broke and he leaned forward, pressing his hands to the bed. Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes.

“I blew it. And for that I’m sorry.” Dean brought his hand up to wipe his tears away. “I guess that’s what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. I let F/N down. I let Sammy down. And now, I guess I’m just supposed to let you down too….how can I? How am I supposed to live with that?”

He buried his face in his free hand, the other still cradling her cheek as he sobbed silently. The weight of his failures pressed heavily on his shoulders, the guilt and regret were almost unbearable. He felt like he was drowning, lost in his own torment. “I’m sorry, baby,” he repeated again and again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so damn sorry.”

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, crying silently as he held onto her. The alcohol in him didn’t help, it only made his tears flow more freely. He felt like the lowest scum known to man, and he couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything that happened.

He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to make the pain go away. But he just sat there, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

“What am I supposed to do?” left his lips in a mournful whisper. “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!” He exploded, aiming the bottle of whiskey at the wall. The bottle shattered into pieces, the liquid staining the surface of the wall as it dripped down. It felt good to release some of his anger, but it didn’t fix anything.

He looked back at her, his chest heaving. But there was no comfort in her sight anymore. She was just so goddamn still. She wasn’t supposed to be this still. Not Y/N. She was always full of energy, always laughing and joking.

Dean checked the time on his watch one last time.

12:02 am

His heart shattered, he slowly padded over to the dirty old mattress before taking the golden heart-shaped locket resting on the base of her chest into his fingers, prying it open. The locket opened in his hand, revealing two photos inside. One side held F/N, M/N, John and Mary in their younger days, all standing in-front of Dean’s childhood home in Lawrence.

The other was a picture of the trio as teens, right before Sam left for college. All in their hunting gear, leaning against the Impala, a big smirk on her face and an arm slung around his shoulders, his arm wrapped around her waist, a rare smile on his face. Sam wore a giant grin himself, mainly because Y/N threatened to put Nair in his shampoo again if he didn’t smile for the picture.

His heart sank as he looked at the photos, his fingers trembling as they traced over them. He gently pressed the locket to his forehead, his eyes closing as the memories flooded through him. He could practically hear her laughter in the air, see the sparkle in her eyes as she teased him.

“Happy Birthday, princess,” he whispered. The words choked up in his throat, his hand clutched the locket tightly in his hand.

-

Author's Note: For more effect, listen to Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift when reading this;)

-

The Harley’s engine roared to life, the sound filled the empty town as Dean snapped on Y/N’s helmet and peeled out from where Jo had parked her. He vaguely remembered passing a crossroads on their way here, he had his mind made up earlier, but he was for certain now.

The cold night air hit his face as the Harley zoomed down the empty roads. His grip on the handle tightened, his mind set on what he was going to do.

‘Something happened for the first time, in’

‘The darkest little paradise’

‘Shakin, pacin', I just need you’

Soon the crossroads came into view and he made the bike halt to a stop, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he stepped off. He then hurriedly dug into Y/N’s hatchback, taking out all the means necessary to summon a crossroad’s demon.

Luckily, since Y/N was getting more in tune with her psychic side. She had the materials on hand. Unknowing that Dean was gonna do this. He walked over to the middle of the intersection and looked around, the place was still and eerily quiet.

He then knelt down onto the ground, his heart was hammering anxiously in his chest the entire time he worked. The thought of seeing Y/N again pushed him to continue.

‘For you, I would cross the line’

‘I would waste my time’

‘I would lose my mind’

He began to dig into the ground with his hands, stuffing the box in once the hole was big enough before covering it back up with the dirt. Dean stood back up, impatiently waiting as his head swung around in all directions. “All right then, you sons of bitches,” he muttered, his voice wavering. “I know you can hear me.”

“Oh come on already” He muttered, “SHOW YOUR FACE YOU BITCH!!” He bellowed. “Easy, sugar, you’ll wake the neighbors” The sultry voice of a woman said behind him. He whirled around to face the owner of the voice. Sure enough, a figure was standing a few feet behind him. A tall, slender and busty woman with sharp features and a wide smile.

Her eyes flashed red before reverting back to its original brown color. “Dean” The demon smiled widely. “It is so, so good to see you” She smirked, stepping closer to the elder Winchester. “I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your little girlfriend killed. All alone in the world. Your brother probably hates your guts and wants nothing to do with you…it’s too sweet” The demon verbally tormented him.

He clenched his jaw, the demon’s words stung like a thousand needles. It felt like she was rubbing salt in his open wound and enjoying every second of it. But he wasn’t gonna let her get to him.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear as she circled around him. “Excuse me, you’re gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses” The demon giggled. “I should send you straight back to hell” Dean growled as he turned his head to face her.

“Oh, you should. But you won’t” The demon pointed out, her tone low and lustful. Dean grimaced in disgust, hating the fact that she was right. “And I know why,” She added, walking around him. “Oh, yeah?” Dean challenged, turning to face her again. “Yeah. Following in daddy’s footsteps. You wanna make a deal” The demon called him out.

He gritted his teeth, his body tensing up as the demon’s words hit all the right chords. The mention of John still stung and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Little Y/N/N, back from the dead. And, let me guess, you’re offering up your own soul” She smirked, the sarcasm dripping from her tone. “There are a hundred other demons who’d love to get their hands on it” Dean shot back. The demon chuckled, rolling her eyes. “And it’s all yours. All you gotta do is bring Y/N back. You give me 10 years. Ten years and then you come for me” He knew that he was desperate and the demon knew it too.

“You must be joking” The demon scoffed. “It’s the same deal you give everybody else” Dean snapped, swallowing the lump in his throat. The demon simply tilted her head to the side, raising an eyebrow as if she was looking at something particularly amusing.

“You’re not everybody else” she shot back, stepping closer to whisper in his ear. “Why would I wanna give you anything?” Her breath fanned on the shell of his ear and down his neck. Dean exhaled, trying to keep his temper in check, “Keep your gutter soul, it’s too tarnished anyway” She added with disgust.

Dean clenched his fists, the anger in him was starting to boil up. The thought of seeing Y/N again, of seeing her beautiful eyes or smile again was tearing him apart. He gritted his teeth, taking deep breaths to keep his anger in check “Nine years” he offered.

“No” The demon denied, stepping back. “Eight” Dean shot back. “You keep going, I’ll keep saying no” The demon chuckled sadistically. Frustration was slowly building up in him, he knew this wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant. “Okay, five years. Five years, then my bill comes due. That’s my last offer. Five years or no deal” Dean persisted, his jaw tensing.

The demon smiled, her eyes flashing red for a second. She leaned in as if she was about to kiss him but whispered against his lips, “Then no deal” His heart sank, his final hope being cut short by the demon’s words. He felt a mixture of anger and despair wash over him. Without Y/N, he felt lost, empty, alone. He tried to push down the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Fine” He whispered, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “Fine” The demon smirked, pulling away before moving around him to walk away. “Make sure you bury Y/N before she starts stinking up the joint” She cackled as she walked away.

The demon’s words stung like a dagger through his heart. Her words were cruel, heartless and aimed to hurt. And they did. But he pushed back the pain, forcing himself to hold it together. “Wait!” he called out to her.

The demon paused in her tracks and turned her head to look at him. “It’s a fire sale and everything must go” She said mockingly. “What do I have to do?” Dean asked, the desperation clear in his tone. The demon rolled her eyes, “First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turn off.” She snorted, walking back to face him. “Look. Look, I shouldn’t be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble” She sighed.

“But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean.” She inhaled through her teeth. “You’re like a puppy, you’re just too fun to play with” The demon sighed deeply, studying Dean’s face. “I’ll do it” She caved. “You’ll bring her back?” Dean gaped. “I will. And because I’m such a saint. I’ll give you one year and only one year” She nodded.

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Hearing the demon agree to bring Y/N back lifted a huge weight off his chest. But then the realization of what he had just agreed to sink in. One year. He was essentially handing over his soul to a demon in exchange for Y/N’s life. But he had no choice. He would do anything to get her back.

“But here’s the thing. If you try to welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Y/N drops dead, she’s back to rotten meat in no time. And I’ll take Sammy too, just for good measure” The demon threatened, Dean gulped at her promise. “So, it’s a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?” She smirked.

‘Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby’

‘I'll be usin' for the rest of my life’

‘Usin' for the rest of my life, ohh-oh’

He exhaled, knowing that he didn’t have a choice. He can’t leave Y/N dead, and not at the cost of Sam’s life too. Even if it would damn his own soul. So with that he snatched the demon roughly from behind her neck, pressing his lips to hers to seal the deal.

‘Don't blame me, love made me crazy’

‘If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right (doin' it right, no)’

‘Lord, save me, my drug is my baby’

‘I'll be usin' for the rest of my life (oh)’

The demon was surprised at first but she quickly pressed herself against him, kissing him back with fervor. It was deep, hungry, and full of desperation on the demon’s side. The deal was completed, sealed with a kiss.

-

Authors Note: This next scene’s song inspo is Reflections by The Neighborhood (mainly just one line lol)

-

‘Where have you been?’

‘Do you know when you're coming back?’

Back in the old house, Y/N’s eyes shot open, gasping awake from her ‘deathly nap’. With a grunt she sat up, her eyes searching frantically in the dark room. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. The last thing she remembered was telling the boys how much she loved them and everything went black.

She looked around her, disoriented and confused. Where the hell was she? She knew she had gotten stabbed, right in her back, literally. She realized she still had her leather jacket on and quickly peeled it off.

She winced as she tugged on the clothes, trying to not to irritate any possible injury on her back. Once she removed her jacket, she pushed herself off of the dirty old bed and padded over to the mirror on the wall. She then pulled her shirt up to observe the area where she was stabbed.

Her skin was no longer wounded but smooth and unmarred. Her finger traced where her anti possession tattoo layed. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she ran her fingers over the spot where the knife had pierced her. There was nothing. No scratch, no cut, not even a scar. Nothing but a red mark that seemed to be forming into a giant bruise.

The sound of the door opening made her ears perk up. Y/N slowly let her shirt fall back down to cover her stomach as the door was pushed open. She turned to see who was standing in the doorway.

‘We were too close to the stars’

‘I never knew somebody like you, somebody’

Her heart skipped several beats as she saw him standing in the doorway. The deep emerald orbs held a mix of disbelief and relief that mirrored her own. “Y/N/N?” Dean gasped, relief filling his body at the fact that the demon kept her end of the bargain. “Hey” Y/N breathed out, still confused. “Thank God” Dean was close to tears again as he rushed over to her.

He wasted no time in pulling her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. It was as if he was trying to convince himself that she was real, that she was okay. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling her scent as he held her tightly.

‘Falling just as hard’

‘I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody’

She was bewildered by his display of affection, but she didn’t resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him just as tightly. Her eyes fluttered shut as she melted into his embrace. She could feel the tension and worry emanating from him like a wave.

Dean pulled away to look at her clearly, cupping her cheek in his hand. He couldn’t stop him from what he was about to do. Dean leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her nose. “Thank god…thank god” Dean muttered as he peppered kisses all over her face.

‘Maybe it's a blessing in disguise (I sold my soul for you)’

‘I see my reflection in your eyes’

He was almost desperately clinging on to her like he was afraid that she would slip right out of his arms. Y/N now utterly taken back. Her heart was pounding in her chest as Dean showered her with kisses. The way he looked at her, held her, it was as if he thought he'd never get to touch her again.

She melted into his embrace again, relishing the feeling of his lips against her skin. It was tender and gentle, full of a love and longing she hadn't seen from him before. A feeling she had been dying to witness.

“Uh, Dean-” Y/N chuckled, groaning a bit from the pain in her back. Dean stopped when he heard her grumble in pain. “Sorry, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m just- I’m just happy to see you up and around, that’s all” He apologized, smiling. She chuckled again, nodding, wincing as she felt the pain in her back flare up.

“Come on, sit down” Dean ushered her back to the bed, helping her sit down. “Okay.” she breathed out, “Dean, what happened to me?” Y/N asked, groaning as Dean sat next to her. “Well, what do you remember?” Dean asked, now having to choose his words carefully.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last thing that happened to her. It was all a bit hazy and her head throbbed as she tried to focus.

“I remember…I had a vision of Sam getting stabbed. And I pushed him out of the way. Then- then I told you boys how much I loved you…and um…” She said slowly, deciding to choose her words carefully. “Then I felt this pain. This sharp pain, like white hot, you know? It hurt like hell and then…darkness”

Dean nodded as he listened to her recalling the events of last night. “Yeah, that- that kid went to stab Sam in his back. But you took the hit, you lost a lot of blood. You know, it was pretty touch and go for a while” he lied, his heart tightening at the thought of what happened. He reached out and placed his hand on her leg, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, “Charming, you can’t patch up a wound that bad. I mean, I thought I was a goner” She pointed out. “No, Bobby could. And Jo used that witchy spell book you have hidden in your hatchback, grinded up some herbs and bam” Dean lied again, hoping she took the bait.

Y/N looked at him skeptically for a moment but nodded again. She wasn’t sure if she believed everything he said because she never thought Jo the spell for the healing balm she had been working on concocting but she had no reason to doubt him. Plus her head hurt enough, she didn’t feel like questioning everything he was saying.

“Who was that kid anyway?” Dean asked, changing the subject. “His names Jake” Y/N frowned. “Did you get him?” She asked. “No. He disappeared into the woods” Dean told her, “We gotta find him, Dean” Y/N’s blood began boiling as she thought of Jake. “And I swear, I’m gonna tear that son of a bitch apart” She snarled as she tried to get up.

Dean quickly grabbed her shoulders, gently pushing her back down to sit. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy Van Damme” He scolded her, raising a brow. “You just woke up. Let’s get you something to eat, alright? Huh? You want something to eat?” Despite the pain in her back, Y/N’s stomach growled loudly at the mention of food.

As if reacting on cue, she nodded, not allowing her eyes to meet his. Dean smiled, “I’m starving” Y/N chuckled at his words as he offered her his hand. She took his hand, her slender fingers wrapping around his much larger ones as she stood up. “Can we get a cookie?” She asked him, grinning widely as she flashed him her signature puppy dog eyes.

Despite the intensity of the situation, Dean cracked a smile at her request. “We can get you all the cookies you want, princess” he quipped, chuckling at the way she looked up at him with her pleading eyes.

-

Y/N was giving Dean the rundown of the event from the previous night. “And that’s when you guys showed up” Y/N said with a mouth stuffed with cookies, a mostly empty pizza box laid out on the grass in an empty park where they sat, enjoying their food.

Dean nodded as he listened to her retelling the story, his arms resting on his bent knees as he sat on the grass next to her. He had a slice of pizza in his hands, his eyes fixed on her as she spoke, his heart aching in his chest at what she and Sam had gone through.

“That’s awful. Poor Andy” Dean muttered. “Demon said he only wanted one of us to walk out alive.” Y/N told him, sipping her soda. “He told you that?” Dean asked, biting into his pizza. “Yup” Y/N nodded, “Appeared in a dream” She scoffed, “He tell you anything else?” Dean asked.

Her mind went back to when the demon revealed to her that she and Sam had demon blood in them. But she couldn’t tell Dean that. The dude already mocked her for being psychic relentlessly, she didn’t want him to see her as even more of a freak. As much as the mockery was playful, the thought of him seeing her as a freak was heartbreaking for her.

“No. No, that was it, nothing else” Y/N quickly shook her head in response. Dean nodded again, his eyes scanning her face. Part of him was suspicious. He could tell she was lying, her eyes avoided his gaze for a moment and she responded a little too quickly. But he chose not to press on it.

“You know, what I don’t get, is that if the demon only wanted one of us…how did Jake, Sam and I all get away?” Y/N thought out loud, changing the subject as she picked up one of the garlic knots from the smaller box, biting into it.

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat as Y/N chewed on the garlic knot and furrowed her brows as if it was a mystery, all the while internally trying to come up with a response. “Well, I mean, they left you and Sam for dead. I’m sure they thought it was over” Dean shrugged, clearing his throat before taking a large nervous bite of his pizza.

Y/N nodded again, not buying Dean’s explanation. She could tell he was hiding something from her, just like she was hiding something from him. The thought made her uneasy, but she decided not to push on it.

“Now that Yellow-Eyes has Jake, what’s he gonna do with him?” Dean asked Y/N through a mouth full of cheese. The psychic rolled her eyes before taking up a napkin to wipe the sauce that was dripping down the side of his mouth.

The action comes off natural and almost familiar. Her fingers lingering on his chin for a split second.

“I don’t know,” she grumbled, wiping a smudge of sauce from his lip with her thumb before tossing the dirty napkin into the empty pizza box. “But whatever it is, we gotta stop it.” She was determined.

Dean raised a brow as he watched her wipe the sauce from his mouth, her touch setting off butterflies in his stomach. “Alright, hold on, you need to get your rest” Dean interrupted her, “We got time” He assured her. “No, we don’t” Y/N scuffed stubbornly, pushing herself to her feet. She began to gather up the garbage from the ground, Dean pushed himself up from his feet, following her over to the trash like a lost puppy.

“Y/N, oceans aren’t boiling, okay? Frogs aren’t raining from the sky. Let’s get your strength back first” Dean tried to reason with her, his voice raising as she discarded the rubbish. She spun around to glare at him defiantly, her hands on her hips, “I’m fine” She growled, her eyes narrowing. Dean scoffed in disbelief and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” he retorted sarcastically. “You almost died last night” He reminded her, his tone sharp and stern. Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, she defiantly crossed her arms over her chest. Huffing in defeat, hating the fact that Dean was right. “Well, did you call the Roadhouse? They know anything?” She asked, Dean’s blood ran cold at the question.

He knew he had to tell her the truth about everyone at the Roadhouse but he didn’t know how. He slowly shook his head, “Yeah” He admitted, his voice wavering slightly. Y/N narrowed her eyes, ‘Dean senses’ going off at the tone in his voice.

“Dean, what is it?” She asked, Dean heavily sighed before turning to face her. “The Roadhouse burned to the ground. Ash is dead. Probably Ellen, a lot of other hunters too.” Dean revealed. Y/N’s eyes grew wide in horror as he words, her heart thumping against her chest.

“What?” She whispered, the shock and disbelief clear in her voice. “Jo-” She gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth. Dean quickly shook his head, “No, she- she’s alive” He quickly reassured her, seeing the panic on her face. Despite the comfort that Y/N felt at the news, her heart ached for the people lost in the fire. For Ash.

He had always been a kind man to her. He was a flirtatious bastard but he was also kind and did anything she asked. She looked up at Dean, her eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to fall, “Demons?” She managed to choke out. “Yeah, we think so. We think because Ash found something” Dean nodded, his jaw clenched as he spoke.

Y/N’s face twisted in anger, “What did he find?” Her voice raised as she spoke, the tears now streaming down her face. “Bobby’s working on that with Sam and Jo.” Dean told her. She nodded, before taking our her bike keys from her pocket. “Well come on then, Bobby’s only a few hours away.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop, Y/N, stop, dammit!” Dean grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away, Y/N’s face contorted with pain from her back. “Listen to me, I’m gonna say it again. You almost died in there. I mean, what would I have-” His words died in his throat. Dean inhaled deeply as Y/N eyed him curiously.

“Look, can’t you just take care of yourself for a little bit, huh? Just a little bit” Dean pleaded. “I’m sorry, sweetie. No.” Y/N shook her head. Her words and the pet name coming out casually made the butterflies in his stomach erupt again. He couldn’t focus, his mind racing as Y/N looked up at him with her big (e/c) eyes, her head tilted to the side, a pout on her lips.

That simple look was enough to make Dean Winchester give up his soul again. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, letting go of her arm before shoving his hands into his pockets as a triumphant smiled spread across her face.

____________________________________________

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Dean knocked on Bobby’s door, shoving his hands nervously in his pocket as Y/N stood next to him. The door opened to reveal Bobby, his face was grim with exhaustion clearly evident in his eyes. His hair was a mess and clothes were wrinkled, his usual trucker hat absent from his head.

The hunter’s eyes widened with shock and terror as he faced a very much alive Y/N. Her eyes softened, her face twitching into a smile. “Hey, Bobby” Dean muttered, not making eye contact with Bobby. “Hey, Bobby” Y/N smiled.

A moment of silence passed between the trio as Bobby took a moment to process the sight in front of him. Then he looked between Dean and Y/N, “Y/N. It’s good to…see you around” Bobby’s tone was inexplainable. “Well, thanks to you and Jo for patching me up” Y/N chuckled, patting him on his shoulder before walking in. “Don’t mention it”

“Hey Bobby, I got the-” Jo said as she came walking in from the kitchen with the coffee pot, the glass slipped from her hand as an audible gasp left her lips when her eyes landed on Y/N. The sound of shattering glass made Y/N flinch and freeze in spot, her eyes meeting Jo’s. Her hands slowly raised as tears of happiness welled up in her eyes, “You’re-” Jo didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Because Sam came rushing down into the room with just his towel on around his waist, sopping wet as if he had just gotten out of the shower. A gun in his hand, “What’s going o- Y/N?!” Y/N spun around to face Sam, her eyes wide, a small smile on her face. “Hi, Sammy” She greeted him, holding back the tears as best as she could.

That failed and the tears started to fall down her face. Sam lowered the gun, his eyes growing wide with shock and relief. Sam and Jo engulfed her into a group hug, squeezing her tightly, all while shooting Dean harsh glares.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay” Sam whispered, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I can’t believe it,” Jo added, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Y/N chuckled from her position between the two of them, her small body smothered by both tall people. “Me too, I thought I was a goner.” She managed to huff out.

“Dean told me you used my herb spell book to patch me up. Thanks” Y/N said gratefully, gently pinching Jo’s cheek. The huntress’ heart dropped, lying to her best friend wasn’t something she wanted to do. “Yeah, anytime” Jo chuckled awkwardly as Y/N turned back around. Sam and Jo shared a terrified look.

Y/N wiped the tears from her cheeks as her eyes met with Dean’s, who was leaning against the wall with a guilty look on his face. Bobby was eying Dean so bad, if looks could kill, Dean would have an early visit to hell.

Dean couldn’t look anyone in their eyes, “Well, Y/N’s better. And we’re back in it now, so…what do you guys know?” Dean asked. Bobby’s glare didn’t stop there, Sam and Jo were on edge themselves, thinking Dean did the worst thing possible. The tension was palpable. Y/N noticed everyone was silent, feeling a bit awkward.

-

“Well, we found something but we’re not sure what the hell it means” Bobby told them, all now in his living room. “What is it?” Y/N asked, taking a deep breath as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Demonic omens. It’s like a fucking tidal wave” A now fully dressed Sam began, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Cattle deaths, lightning storms. They’ve skyrocketed from nowhere” Jo added, using her fingers to list them off. “Here” Bobby said, turning the map with all the sightings circled off to face Dean and Y/N. “All around here, except for one place” Bobby gestured to the map before placing it down on a certain state.

“Southern Wyoming” Y/N and Dean’s brows furrowed at Bobby’s words. “Wyoming?” Dean questioned. “Yeah, that one area’s totally clean. Spotless” Sam stated, “It’s almost as if…” Jo began, but trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?” Y/N cocked her brow, urging her on. Jo’s eyes flickered over to Y/N, a flash of fear playing in them.

“…the demons are surrounding it” Jo finished. Dean’s eyes widened, “But you guys don’t know what?” He asked. “No, and by this point my eyes are swimming” Bobby sighed in frustration before turning to Y/N with a soft expression. “Y/N, would you take a look at it. Let Jo and Sam help you, maybe y’all can catch something I couldn’t” Bobby said gently.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, sure Bobby” She smiled sadly before turning her back to them, trying to get a better look at the map. Bobby then turned his attention to Dean, the soft expression faltering. “Come on, Dean. I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug em in” His tone was almost deathly. Dean swallowed harshly.

“Yeah, sure” Was all Dean could muster up as they made their way into the scrap yard, out of earshot from everyone. The sound of the screen door shutting behind them made Y/N’s ears twitch, her head tilting to listen. Y/N could hear the sounds of Bobby and Dean talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Hey, Jo. Can I talk to Sam, alone?” Y/N asked Jo, giving her a small smile. “Sure” Jo smiled back before walking off . Y/N turned her attention back to the taller man. “So…” She began awkwardly. “Yeah, uh” Sam scratched the back of his head nervously as he eyed Y/N carefully.

He couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through his head, wondering how she could have just come back to life after being murdered. He knew his brother had something to do with it and the thought made him sick.

“What did yellow-eyes tell you?” Y/N swallowed harshly as she asked this, remembering the fact that they both had demon blood in them since birth. Sam stiffened at her question and Y/N let out a shaky sigh, the two shared a nervous look, neither one of them willing to say it out loud. “We can’t tell, Dean” Sam finally broke his silence.

“Yeah” Was all Y/N could manage as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. “He’ll think we’re fucking freaks” Y/N scoffed, wiping the corners of her eyes. “We aren’t freaks” Sam reassured her, his facial expression full of sadness. “We didn’t ask for this” Sam placed his hand gently on her shoulder, she glanced up at him.

The tone of Sam’s voice was almost as if he was trying to convince himself and he wasn’t sure. Y/N instantly picked up on that, “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” She chuckled dryly. “Both” Sam smiled sadly at her, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before letting go. Y/N gave him a sad smile in response before standing up to walk over to the table filled with different weapons, books, and maps.

-

“You stupid ass! What did you do?!” Bobby’s exclaims were directed towards Dean with pure rage and fury. His heart sunk in his chest, the dread pooling in his gut at the thought of Bobby’s disappointment. Dean’s head tilted to the ground as Bobby snatched him by his collar, shaking him. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Dean still refused to answer him, dread filled Bobby’s heart when he realized exactly what Dean had done. “You made a deal. For Y/N, didn’t you?” Bobby’s voice shook when he asked the obvious question. Dean’s eyes stayed fixated on the ground, his mouth refusing to answer the question or to disagree.

Bobby was watching him intently, waiting for an answer. “How long did they give you?” Bobby narrowed his eyes at the elder Winchester. “Bobby” Dean shook his head. “How long?!” Bobby shoved Dean harshly by his chest. “One year,” Dean said, his voice low. He didn’t react to his shove push, keeping his eyes to the ground as he tried to avoid Bobby’s enraged gaze.

“Damn it. Dean” Bobby groaned, shaking his head. “Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch.” Dean said determined. “That’s why I’m gonna kill him myself. I mean, I got nothing to lose now, right?” Dean shrugged. Bobby snatched Dean by his collar again. “I could throttle you!” Bobby exclaimed, shaking him.

“Oh, and what? send me downstairs ahead of schedule?” Dean shot back snarkily. Bobby scoffed, a flash of rage again in his eyes at Dean’s words before he let go of his collar. “What is it with you Winchesters and L/Ns, huh? You, F/N, your dad, you’re all just itching to throw yourselves down the pit” Bobby snapped. Dean's face dropped.

“That’s my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I’m not even supposed to be here!” Bobby’s mouth dropped open as Dean continued. “At least this way, something good can come out of it, you know? Like my life could mean something” Bobby was stunned into silence, staring down at Dean like he had lost his mind.

“What?! And it didn’t before?! Have you got that low an opinion of yourself?!” He yelled, snatching him by his collar again. “Are you that fucked in the head?!” Tears welled up in both men’s eyes as Dean forced himself to finally look Bobby in the eye. “I couldn’t let her die, Bobby.” Dean’s voice cracked, his eyes glazed over red.

“I couldn’t. She’s the love of my life” He confessed. Bobby held onto Dean’s collar for a while longer. His heart ached for him as he listened to the elder Winchester’s voice crack as he confessed that much to him. He’s never seen him so vulnerable before, never heard Dean say that out loud about Y/N.

“How is the love of your life gonna feel when she knows you’re going to hell? How is YOUR BROTHER gonna feel when he knows you’re going to hell? How’d you feel when you knew your dad went for you?!” Bobby shook him again.

Bobby’s words struck Dean right in the heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought back to last year when John took the swan dive to the pit, the feeling of utter helplessness and fear he felt. He didn’t think his absence could possibly make her feel that kind of anguish. Sure she cared for him as family but she didn’t love him, so it shouldn’t hurt her as much, right?

Was it his actions based on his pure and genuine love for her? Or was it his selfishness in never wanting her to leave him, even if she wasn’t his. “You can’t tell her. You take a shot at me, whatever you gotta do. But please, don’t tell her” Dean pleaded, weakly shaking his head.

“Please, Bobby,” Dean repeated, staring right into his eyes. “Please don’t tell her” Bobby’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he dropped his grip on Dean’s shirt. Both men with tears in their eyes, desperately trying not to cry. Before Bobby could say anything, the sound of tools clattering in the background made their heads snap in its direction.

Dean and Bobby shared a wide eyed look before ducking behind a car. The two peered around the side, both silent as they saw a shadow at the corner of their eyes. Dean’s hand hovered over his gun in his waistband, silently watching this figure move around the corners, looking as though they were searching for something.

Bobby too, had a firm grip on his own gun, his knuckles turning white. They instantly grabbed the person, both in shock when they realized who it was. “Ellen?!” It was indeed Ellen. Although her appearance took a toll. Her clothes were messy and torn, a few strands of hair stuck to her face and her skin was paler than usual. She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Ellen. Oh, god” Dean breathed out in relief, hugging her tightly. The motherly woman hugged him back just as tightly, a few tears streaming down her face. Bobby, despite his anger and disappointment towards Dean, was just as relieved as the other two, joining in on the hug. “Jo, where’s Jo?” Ellen immediately asked for her daughter, looking around the yard frantically.

“She's inside. She’s safe” Dean reassured her, rubbing her arms gently. “Thank god” She sighed, wiping away the tears while taking deep, uneven breaths. She quickly broke out of Dean’s hug and pushed herself to Bobby’s front door. Dean and Bobby followed behind her, Bobby reaching for the front door knob as Ellen burst through it.

“Joanna Beth!” Ellen cried out. They heard rustling, followed by Sam’s voice. “Mom?! Is that you?” Y/N and Jo immediately came into view, having risen from the spot they were sitting in, Sam following behind her, an urgent look on his face. Jo was in disbelief, thinking her mom was dead from the fire.

Her heart was beating out of his chest, “Mommy!” Jo cried, hurdling herself into her mothers arms. Ellen held her close, tears streaming down her eyes as she cradled the back of Jo’s head. “Oh, sweet girl, I thought I lost you” She breathed out shakily, kissing the top of her hair.

Sam and Y/N stood by, smiles on their faces as they watched the touching reunion, seeing the relief and comfort on their faces. Dean’s heart softened at the sight, his eyes quickly flickering over in Y/N’s direction. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

-

They were all now sitting at Bobby’s dining room table. Bobby poured some holy water into a shot glass before sliding it across to Ellen’s side. “Bobby, is this really necessary?” Ellen scoffed. “She’s fine, Bobby. Seriously” Y/N assured him but Bobby was still skeptical. “Just a belt of holy water. Shouldn’t hurt” Bobby shrugged.

Ellen, with a stoic expression, downed the holy water with no hesitation. They all stayed quiet, watching for any reaction. “Whiskey, now. If you don’t mind” She sassed, wiping her mouth before sliding the glass across the table back to Bobby.

“Mom, what happened? How did you get out?” Jo asked concerned but relieved to see her mom alive and well. Ellen took a deep breath, “I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else” She muttered before scoffing. “But we ran out of pretzels, of all things” Ellen shook her head as Bobby slid the shot glass back to her.

“It was just dumb luck” She said before downing the whiskey. Dean, Sam, Y/N, and Jo watched intently, still baffled by the events they had all just witnessed. They knew Ellen was a tough cookie, especially Jo knew, but their mouths remained opened anyways as they heard the rest of the story. “Anyway, that’s when Ash called, panic in his voice”

Tears welled up in Ellen and Jo’s eyes, “He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky high. Everybody was dead, I couldn’t have been gone more than 15 minutes” The room fell silent as they took in that statement. Jo put her hand on her mom’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Y/N held her hands together on her lap, letting the words sink in. “I’m sorry, Ellen” Y/N offered her sympathy, giving Jo a small smile. “A lot of good people died in there. And I got to live” Ellen said, emotion clear in her voice. “Lucky me” She scoffed.

Jo winced at the dark remark, “I’m sorry, honey” Ellen apologized, her throat caught in a lump. Jo shook her head, “At least you’re okay” She assured, reaching over and grabbing her mothers hand, bringing it to her lips and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles.

“Ellen, you mentioned a safe,” Bobby asked quietly. “A hidden safe we kept in the basement.” Ellen nodded. “Demons get what was in it?” Bobby asked. “No” Ellen shook her head before reaching into her jacket to retrieve a map. She opened it out on the table, turning it to face Sam, Dean and Y/N. “Wyoming?” Dean and Sam gaped. “What does that mean?” Y/N muttered, toying with her necklace.

-

Hours of research later, “I don’t believe it” Bobby gasped as he walked out of the kitchen with a book, placing it down in front of the map. “What? You got something?” Jo asked, “A lot more than that” Bobby grumbled, tracing his fingers over the map from the safe which had X’s at random points marks around it.

“Each of these X’s is an abandoned frontier church, all mid-19th century. And all of them…built by Samuel Colt” Bobby revealed, everyone's eyes widened. “Samuel Colt? The demon-killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?” Dean asked in shock. “Yep. And there’s more” Bobby nodded. “He built private railway lines connecting church to church..” Bobby then began drawing on the map.

“…that just happens to lay out like this” The church’s connected in the shape of a pentagram…a devil's trap. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Dean muttered in shock. “It’s a Devil’s Trap” Sam said with wide eyes, Dean and Y/N wiped their mouths simultaneously in shock. “A hundred square mile devils trap” Jo added, running a hand through her hair.

“That’s fucking brilliant. Iron lines, demons can’t cross” Y/N muttered as she shook her head, impressed and baffled by the idea. “I’ve never heard of anything that massive,” Ellen commented. “No one has,” Bobby added. “And after all these years, none of the lines are broken? I mean, it still works?” Dean asked.

Realization dawned on Sam and Y/N, the two sharing a look. “Definitely.” Sam said. “How do you know?” Jo asked, raising a brow. “All those omens we found. I mean, the demons, they must be circling and they can’t get in” Sam explained. “Yeah, well, they’re trying” Y/N scoffed, running a hand over her mouth.

“Why? What’s inside?” Ellen asked curiously. “That’s what I’ve been looking for. And, uh, there’s nothing except an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle” Dean told them, pointing to the middle of the devils trap drawn on the map. “Why? What’s so important about a cemetery? What’s Colt trying to protect?” Jo muttered.

Dean and Y/N shared a look now, both thinking the same thing. “Well, unless…” Dean trailed off. “Unless what?” Bobby asked. “What if Colt wasn’t trying to keep the demons out? What if he was trying to keep something in?” Y/N suggested, “Well, that’s a comforting thought” Ellen deadpanned.

“Yeah, you think” Jo scoffed, “Could they do it Bobby? Could they get inside?” Sam asked nervously. “This thing’s so powerful. You’d practically need an A-Bomb to get in. No way a full-blood demon gets across” Bobby scoffed. Sam and Y/N shared a wide eyed look.

The two realized now why Yellow-Eyes needed one of his “special children”. “No. But we know who could” Y/N groaned, Jake was gonna fill out the demon’s and get over that trap.

____________________________________________

Wyoming

The trio, Bobby, Ellen and Jo all scattered across the cowboy cemetery, armed to the T. Waiting for Jake to show, it was nightfall, Sam stayed hidden behind old tombs with Jo while Bobby and Ellen hid behind the crypt alone. Dean and Y/N were a couple yards away from Sam and Jo, hidden behind another large tomb.

They all watched intently from different spots, waiting patiently for Jake, all on alert at any sign or sound. “Jesus, where is he?” Y/N muttered impatiently, wiping the sweat from her brow. It became silent amongst them, a sign that they all thought. Just as they had this thought, the creaking of the old gate opening followed by footsteps towards the crypt were welcomed into their ears.

Y/N’s body immediately went on the defensive upon spotting Jake’s figure slowly walking through the gate, her eyes scanning the area. Dean and Sam kept a close eye on him. He stopped in front of the old crypt, staring at it intently. Sam gave Dean a curt nod, indicating for them to reveal themselves.

Jo and Y/N followed to suit while Bobby and Jo moved from behind the crypt. “Howdy, Jake” Sam snarled at him, all hunters aiming their guns at him. “Surprise motherfucker” Y/N quipped, glaring at him. Jake’s blood when his eyes landed on her, widening as his pulse started to race. “No. You were dead. I killed you” Jake gaped.

Dean’s face twisted into a sneer, narrowing his eyes. Jake shook his head, eyes flickering between the hunters all surrounding him. “I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord” Jake insisted. Y/N was in shock, the rapid healing of her wound making sense. Even with the healing balm from her spell book, her tattoo wouldn’t have been intact.

Her eyes flickered over to Dean who wore a guilt ridden expression, her heart plummeted to her feet as Jake continued. “You can’t be alive. You can’t be” Jake shook his head, eyes still wide with horror. “Okay, just take it real easy there, son” Bobby warned, glaring at the army vet. “And if I don't?” Jake challenged.

“Wait and see!” Sam bellowed, “What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do, kill me?” Jake scoffed, “It’s a thought” Sam clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on his gun. There was no way he was hesitating to kill him this time. Last time, it cost Y/N her life. He was not letting Jake slip away again.

Jake’s lip curled into a twisted smile as he let out a scoff. Dean clenched his jaw as a chill ran down his spine from hearing the tone of his voice. Jake took a step towards Y/N and Dean aimed his gun to the air, shooting a bullet into the sky before pointing it a foot away from his face. “Don't you DARE take another step,” Dean growled.

“You had your chance. You both had your chance. You couldn’t” Jake said to Sam and Y/N. “Well we won’t make that mistake twice” Y/N spat, her eyes spitting in Jake’s direction. Jake chuckled darkly, this made Dean’s blood run cold. “What are you smiling at, you little bitch?” The elder Winchester snarled.

Jake smirked, his eyes flickering over to Jo, a nasty grin on his face. “Hey sexy, do me a favor.” His eyes glowed a tiny ball of yellow before saying, “Put that gun to your head” Jo glared at him, but fear soon took over her face as she tried to fight off his control. Shakily placing the gun to her temple. “No!” Ellen almost sobbed as she watched her daughter place the gun to her temple against her will.

Sam’s heart plummeted as Y/N’s eyes widened. “You too, lady” Jake smirked at Ellen, making her do the exact same as Jo. A dark smile taking over his face, everyone’s blood ran cold. “See that Ava girl was right. Once you give into it, there’s all sorts of new Jedi Mind Tricks you can learn” Jake’s eyes darkened.

Sam’s heart froze, his hand still wrapped around the handle of his gun. “Let her go!!” Sam demanded, “Sammy, shoot..him..” Jo pleaded, her tone shaky. “You’ll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off” Jake shrugged, daring them to take a shot. No one moved a muscle, not willing to make a move.

“Everybody put your guns down” Jake demanded as Jo and Ellen shook with fear. “Except you, sweethearts” He smirked at them. They all did as they were told, guns clattering to the ground. Jake smirked, his eyes glowing bright yellow. Bobby went first, then Dean, then Y/N. But Sam was still gripping his gun, “Put.It.Down” Jake demanded again.

Jo was on the brink of crying watching this all unfold, “Shoot him, Sammy!" She pleaded, her voice quivering. Sam looked at the gun he was still holding, then up to Jake’s glowing eyes. His expression was torn with internal battle. “Your bitch’ll be dead, the second you empty that chamber, I promise you” Jake threatened through gritted teeth.

This was all it took for Sam to surrender, holding his gun up before placing it on the ground. “Okay, thank you” Jake smirked, he then quickly spun around, taking out the Colt. Dean, Y/N and Bobby took the chance to knock the guns Jo and Ellen had aimed at their head. Dean and Bobby knocked it out of Ellen’s hand while Y/N knocked it out of Jo’s hand.

Sam quickly picked up his gun from the ground, aiming it at Jake. The sound of two bullets escaping the chambers bellowed through the cemetery as Jake stuck the Colt into the crypt unlocking it. Several bullets pierced into Jake’s back, the culprit being Sam with a dark look on his face.

Jake fell to the ground, bleeding from his mouth, gasping for air as Sam stood over him, his gun aimed straight at his chest. “Please-…please…no, n-” Jake’s pleas were cut short when Sam emptied the last of his chamber, the blood splattering across his face. Everyone was shocked at the cold move by Sam.

Y/N’s stomach was churning as she followed behind Dean, her eyes on Jake’s bullet ridden body. The crypt was still turning since Jake unlocked it before Sam killed him. Bobby walked slowly over to the old crypt with slow steps, everyone following him closely. The crypt door creaked loudly with a thud, “Oh no” Bobby muttered in fear. “Bobby, what is it?” Ellen asked. “It’s hell”

With Bobby’s words, Dean instantly took the Colt out of the keyhole. “Take cover! Now!” Bobby shouted, pushing Ellen over to take cover while Dean grabbed Y/N’s hand and Jo grabbed Sam’s hand, all throwing themselves over tombs to hide behind headstones.

The crypt door finally came crashing down with a loud and thunderous bang, black smoke clouding the skies as demons escaped from Hell. The ground beneath them shaking like an earthquake was in effect, thunder and lightning filling the sky.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Y/N shouted, that burning feeling she usually had whenever demons were around skyrocketed. Her entire body was heated, “That's a devil's gate, a damn door to hell!” Ellen shouted back in response over the thunderous sounds. “Come on, we gotta shut that gate!” Jo yelled, everyone did as told, rushing over to the gate as Dean held the Colt in his hands.

A thought crossed his mind, “If the demon gave to Jake…then maybe..” Dean said in realization, a flash of smoke came across his eyes, indicating he might be right before turning around to aim the gun at Azazel. The Yellow Eyed Demon waved his hand in the air, summoning the gun from Dean’s hand to his. “Boys shouldn’t play with Daddy’s guns,” Azazel smirked.

With a tilt of his head, he sent Dean flying across the cemetery, causing the Hunter to hit his head on a tombstone. “CHARMING!!” “DEAN!!” Y/N and Sam screamed when they saw Azazel toss Dean in the air, currently at the gate, trying to shut the Devil’s Gate with the help of Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Sam. All grunting heavily as they strained to shut the door.

Sam and Y/N instantly ran over to aid Dean, but Azazel waved his hand, sending Sam barreling back-first into a tree and Y/N into a tombstone, across from Dean. “I’ll get to you two in a minute, kids. But I’m proud of you, Sammy. I knew you had it in ya” Azazel grinned before turning to Dean with yellow eyes. The elder Winchester was attempting to get out but the demon pushed him back down.

“So Dean, I gotta thank you” Azazel stated mockingly. Dean, gritting his teeth trying to resist the mind grip, struggling as Azazel stooped down in front of him. “You see, demons can’t resurrect people unless a deal is made.” The demon began, “I know, red tape, it’ll make you nuts” He mused. “But thanks to you, Y/N’s back in rotation” Azazel grinned.

Dean’s eyes darkened and Y/N’s filled with tears, “Now, I wasn’t counting on that but I’m glad. I like her and Sammy better than Jake anyhow” Azazel chuckled, “Besides she’s got that ‘mojo’ thing going on” Azazel smirked, grabbing Dean’s chin and lifting his head up. Dean shook with disgust, “Tell me, have you ever heard the expression: If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?”

Dean’s eyes glanced over at Y/N, “No…no” Y/N was in disbelief, shaking her head, pleading that Dean didn’t know what she thought he did. Guilt and shame washed over him, “You call that a good deal?” Dean gritted his teeth at Azazel. “Aw, it’s a better shake than your Dad got…and you never wondered why. I’m surprised at you” Azazel shot back, hitting a nerve before moving closer to Dean.

“I mean, you saw what your brother just did to Jake right? That was pretty cold wasn’t it? Good thing it wasn’t Y/N, she would’ve probably nailed him to the cross” Azazel chuckled darkly. “How certain are you that what you brought back is 100% pure Y/N? Are you even sure that she and Sam are 100% pure?” He mused.

Dean’s face paled and his throat closed, staring at Azazel in horror. Sam and Y/N shared a terrified look. Y/N’s eyes grazed over the area, looking for the Colt. When her eyes landed on it, on the ground next to Azazel, she attempted to summon the Colt into her hands but the hold the demon had on her was weakening her powers.

“You of all people should know that what’s dead should stay dead” Azazel gritted his teeth at Dean, who scoffed, shaking with anger. “Anyway” The demon sighed before dusting off his pants, “Thanks a bunch, I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now anyway” The demon grinned as he picked up the Colt from the ground, aiming it at Dean.

“I couldn’t have done it without your pathetic self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family.” Suddenly, the spirits of John Winchester and F/N L/N appeared behind Azazel, both men wrapped their arms around him before he could shoot Dean. Dean and Y/N’s eyes widened when they saw their fathers. A loud gasp leaving Sam’s mouth.

The body Azazel was possessing dropped dead to the ground, “Daddy?” Y/N gasped as the veteran hunters wrestled with the black smoke that left the body Azazel was possessing, holding him down for long enough for Dean to retrieve the Colt. Within a few seconds, the demon smoke went barreling back into the body.

Azazel got up with wide eyes to see Dean aiming the Colt straight at him. Without hesitation, Dean Winchester used the last bullet of the Colt, aiming straight at the heart. Blood spewed out of the wound, almost as if the bullet stunned the demon. An orangish light glowed through the body, seizing for a few seconds before dropping dead to the floor.

Sam and Y/N finally escaped from the hold Azazel had on them, now able to breath, dropping to the ground. Ellen, Bobby and Jo finally got the gates closed, all grunting and screaming as the door creaked inwards, shutting completely.

Sam, Dean and Y/N pushed themselves up from the ground to see the spirit of their Dads. A tearful moment for them all, John stepped forward and placed a hand on his elder son's shoulder, tears cascading down his cheeks before he turned to his younger son, a bright smile in his direction. Sam nodded with tears in his eyes in response.

F/N placed his hand on Dean’s other shoulder, mouthing a quiet, “Thank you” to Dean for saving his daughter. Dean nodded back In responses shaking with emotion. F/N turned to his only daughter, a mournful smile on his face as he mouthed, “I love you” to his only child. “I love you too” Y/N mouthed back, her face creasing as she cried.

F/N and John stepped back, giving their children one last loving gaze before bursting into a bright white light, seemingly having found peace. Sam, Dean and Y/N were still in shock, “Well, check that off the to do list” Dean chuckled dryly, “You did it” Sam croaked, a flash of relief weighing off his chest.

“I didn’t do it alone” Dean smiled sadly, “Fellas, you think dad and John really-” Y/N’s words got caught in her throat. “You think they really climbed out of hell?” Dean chuckled dryly again, “The door was open, if anyone was stubborn enough to do it, it’ll be them” Dean snorted, Sam and Y/N nodded in tearful agreement.

“Where do you think they are now?” Sam asked, “I don’t know” Dean frowned, “I kind of can’t believe it guys. I mean- our whole lives, everything, has green prepping us for this. And now, I- I kind of don’t know what to say” Sam sniffled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I do.” Dean smirked before kneeling down besides the dead body Azazel was possessing.

“That was for our moms. You son of a bitch” Dean growled at him.

____________________________________________

Author's Note: HI AGAIN, so this next scene’s song inspo is Again by Noah Cyrus (hehehehe) ENJOY!

____________________________________________

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

The ride all the way back, Y/N hadn't said a word. She wouldn’t dare make eye contact with Dean, and it tore into his heart. It was until Y/N finally had enough of being in her own mind, she confronted Dean. Everyone was in Bobby’s living room when Y/N emerged, “I need you talk to you” She snapped at Dean.

Dean winced at her sudden blunt tone while everyone fell silent. He nodded in obedience while Y/N dragged him into Bobby's yard with a scowl on her face. The door slammed with a loud bang behind her as she turned on Dean, “You know, when Jake saw me, it was like he saw a ghost” She spat in Dean's direction, her arms folded across her chest with eyes burning with anger.

Dean fell silent, refusing to look at her as he stalked over to his car. “Don’t walk away from me! You heard him. He said he killed me!” Y/N called out to him, following behind Dean while heavy on her feet. She stopped him from getting it to his car, shutting the door as he opened it. “He was wrong” Dean lied. “I don’t think he was, Dean” Y/N spat, forcing Dean’s head to face her. “What happened after I was stabbed?”

“I already told you” Dean snapped back, flicking her hand off of his chin roughly. “Not everything” Y/N shot back, “Y/N, we just killed the demon. Can we celebrate for a minute?!” Dean exclaimed in frustration. “Did I die?” Y/N’s voice broke.

Dean’s heart clenched at Y/N’s broken tone, looking away from her. “Did you sell your soul for me like John did for you?” She demanded. “Oh come on! No!” Dean shouted, lying. “Tell me the truth. Charming, tell me the truth” Y/N pleaded. Dean clenched his jaw. Y/N’s eyes widened at the confirmation, “You did, didn’t you?” She cried out to him.

“I did it to save you” Dean confessed quietly with his head hung. "You- you sold your soul for me?" Y/N repeated, her voice shaky. "Dean, how could you do something so... idiotic and reckless? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?! What that means for you? Dammit.. you stupid stupid idiot!" Y/N raged, reeling her fist back before driving it into Bobby’s truck drivers side window.

Glass shattered everywhere, showering the surrounding area. Bobby's truck was now sporting a gaping hole where the driver's side window used to be.

He didn’t answer her, he just stood with his head hung. There was no denying the fear that flashed through his own eyes, what he did was not an easy decision to make. He knew the consequences. He knew that he was a walking dead man with a limited date, however, that wasn't what hurt him. What hurt him, was how Y/N was reacting, all because of him.

“You answer me when I’m speaking to you, dammit! How could you?! How could you just throw your life away!? Why?!” She growled, pushing him by his chest.

He stumbled backwards as she pushed him, his heart pounding in his chest. The mixture of anger and fear in her eyes cut through him like a knife.

"What did you want me to do, huh?!" Dean snapped back, his voice loud. "Watch you die? Let you go into the light?” He scoffed angrily. “No. I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose you. I had to save you."

“So, what!? You throw your life away for me?! You promised me Dean!!!” She sobbed. “You promised me that you wouldn’t do anything crazy if me or Sam died and you broke that!” Her heart was pounding through her chest, ready to give out. The look of guilt potent on Deans face.

“How long?” She demanded, but Dean shook his head. “HOW LONG?!” She shouted again, shoving him by his chest. “A YEAR!” Dean screamed. “I can’t believe this…I was dead! You of all people should know that’s not natural! We’re hunters, we die. That’s life!” She screamed enraged, smacking the back of her hand against her other palm as she yelled, a mixture of fleeting guilt that Dean just sacrificed his humanity for her.

“I don't care!” Dean shouted, his eyes burning with pain and frustration. His fists clenched and unclenched to his sides. “You wanna know why I did it? Huh?! I did it because I made a promise to your father on his deathbed that I’d keep you safe and I intended on keeping it. It’s my job to take care of you” Dean lied through his pearly white teeth.

“Don’t you dare feed that bullshit Dean Winchester. ” She snapped, pointing her finger at him. “I'm a grown ass woman, it is NOT your job to take care of me. We take care of EACH OTHER! I didn’t think letting us die in peace was supposed to be printed in INK!” She further raged, pacing the scrap yard.

“So you can keep a promise to my dead father but you can’t keep one to me? ME?!” Her chest heaved as she pointed to herself. “I wanna know the truth,” Y/N demanded. “Why?! How?! Why would you do that?!” She sobbed, her hands buried in her hair as she paced back and forward.

“I JUST TOLD YOU!”

“BULLSHIT!”

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" He shouted, in a pained and frustrated tone that shook his whole body. His own voice breaking with the weight of his confession.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, his emotions got the best of him, he didn’t care if he had to risk it all to get it out, he wasn’t leaving in a year and not let her know the truth, she deserved that much. She deserved the world. Better than he could offer. He may have just offered up his soul on a silver platter, but she deserved far more than that in his eyes.

Her pacing abruptly stopped, his words struck right into her heart. She looked at him like a deer in headlights. Y/N couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth. She stood there, frozen like a statue, her face etched with shock and disbelief. Words refused to escape her, her mouth opened and closed several times but nothing came out. She just stared at him in silence.

His chest rose and fell with every heavy ragged breath. His green eyes burned with the intensity of his confession, as he stared back at her. His walls had finally crumbled, and he’d let the truth spill from his lips, like he was an open book.

"I love you, dammit! I love you more than anything in this world! I couldn't let you go. I couldn't just watch you die and do nothing! Because I can't imagine a life without you.” His tone was broken and pained.

Y/N’s heart sank to the floor, her face dropped. She was in utter shock and disbelief. Dean didn’t know what to do now, how long would it take her to say something? Would she laugh in his face? The silence was excruciating as he stood in front of her.

“W-what-“ Is all she could muster up.

Dean took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the weight of his confession. The area was eerily silent, the only sound was their ragged breathing. He took a few steps closer to her, his eyes never straying from hers. "You heard me," He said, trying to steady his voice.

"I- I’ve been holding back for so long..." He started, his voice barely above a whisper. “…because I didn't want to complicate things, but seeing you die.. that just..." Dean choked back a wave of emotion that threatened to overpower him.

"I love you, Y/N L/N. I didn't have the guts to say it out loud until now. I know you don't feel the same way but I can’t hide it anymore. Not after seeing you like that"

Y/N stood motionless, her eyes wider than saucers. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to process what Dean had just said. She couldn't believe it. The man she had always been in love with, the man she had never thought could feel the same way about her, had just confessed his love for her.

As the shock started to wear off, an array of emotions washed over her. Surprise, happiness, fear, guilt, and most of all, love. A million thoughts raced through her mind, but one prevailed above all else.

She loved him too. She always had.

She closed her eyes, convinced this was a dream, allowing his words to sink in. The fact that he thought she didn’t feel the same way ripped into her heart more than hearing he loved her back. Taking a couple seconds and deep breath, she reopened them, “Again. Say it again” Her breath hitched, her eyes piercing into his as she swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

He stepped even closer, gently taking her left hand in his. He looked directly into her eyes, his voice trembling slightly.

‘I wanna be your lover,’

‘I don't wanna be your friend’

"I love you, princess. I am hopelessly in love with you. I love everything about you. Your passion, your intelligence, your strength, and your stubbornness. I love the way you laugh and you roll your eyes at me when I make terrible puns. I love the way you smack me upside my head when I’m being an ass.” He listed off sincerely with a light chuckle as Y/N’s (e/c) eyes searched his emerald ones.

‘You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear’

‘So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)’

“I love the way you scrunch your nose up and your eyebrows together when you’re focused and thinking hard about something. I love the way you look when you’re hunched over riding Quinn. Fuck, I love the way you crush a cigarette butt with your boot. I even love that you stole one of my shirts and act like you don’t know anything about it” He added with a small laugh. “I've been in love with you for a long time, and it kills me knowing that you don’t feel the same way"

‘I wanna be your lover.’

‘Baby, I'll hold my breath’

Dean never had a way with words, he sucked ass at the ‘cheesy chick flick’ stuff. That melodrama was never in his books but yet his words came so effortlessly, it flowed fluidly past his lips as he talked about all the things he admired and respected about her. The way it spewed from him, shocked even the man himself but it just came so naturally. It was like something out of a rom-com, he never knew he had it in him.

‘You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear’

‘So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)’

Still holding onto her left hand in his, he reached up with his free hand up to cup her face, his thumb rubbing soft slow circles on her jawline.

His heart thundered in his chest as he looked down into her (e/c) eyes, searching them, watching for any sign of disgust. Expecting another rejection. His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, before he spoke again, his voice quiet and vulnerable.

“Say something, please"

She sobbed at his confession, it felt too good to be true. Too surreal for her. Still in disbelief at how those words flowed past his tongue. Guilt from Dean sacrificing himself mixing with the guilt over the fact that he believed she didn’t love him back.

She didn’t know how to respond, she couldn’t top that but she knew how to show it. Without speaking, she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him in, finally connecting his lips with hers in a passionate rough, starved kiss.

‘Again, babe, again’

‘Again, babe, again’

‘You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear’

‘So tell me that you love me again’

As their lips met, a wave of electricity shot through both their bodies. Dean reciprocated the kiss almost instantly after the initial shock wore off. He let go of her chin, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him as he kissed her back with all the pent-up desire and love he had been holding in for years. Her fingers threaded into his short-cropped ivy-league at the back of his neck, and he deepened the kiss, hungry for more of her.

Y/N melted into his embrace while Dean held her tightly against him as they continued to kiss each other like starved animals. The world around them faded away, leaving only the warmth of her body, the taste of her lips, and the overwhelming emotion coursing through him.

It was real this time. It wasn’t some venom-hopped fantasy dream world. This was real, as real as can be.

Son of a fucking Bitch, I’m kissing Y/N!

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m kissing Dean!

Y/N moaned lightly into the kiss, unable to hold back her desire. Her moan sent shivers down his spine, fueling his desire to claim his territory. His hands roamed over her body, caressing her curves, her imperfect, in her eyes, yet so deliciously perfect, in his eyes, body. Pulling her as close as physically possible. He nipped at her lower lip, gently biting and sucking on it as he explored the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue.

Eventually, Y/N broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. Dean couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and happiness wash over him, finally being able to express the love he's been holding onto for so long. “At risk of sounding like those cheesy rom-coms you love. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this” Dean murmured, his voice low and rough with a bit of muse.

Y/N chuckled breathlessly at his untimely humor. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you, you big sap” She breathed out, her voice slightly above a whisper, finally returning his words. Meaning every bit of it.

Hearing her say those words sent a wave of emotion through Dean’s body. His heart swelled with joy. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching hers. "You... you really mean that?" Dean asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she reciprocated his feelings.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. Her heart beating out of her chest. “Well I don’t kiss someone like that and not mean it” She sniffled back a chuckle. Dean let out a breathless laugh, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Fair point," He admitted, chuckling, his voice full of affection.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes glazing over with tears of happiness. "Of course, I mean it, charming," she replied, her hand caressing his cheek. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember. I love you, Dean Winchester, with every fiber of my being."

Those words sent a shiver through his entire being. His heart skipped a beat before thudding loudly in his chest. A wave of love, happiness, and disbelief washed over him. Dean was shocked. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that she'd feel the same way about him. But here she was, standing in front of him, telling him she loved him as much as he loved her.

"Y/N-" Dean stuttered, his voice thick with emotion. He shook his head slightly, trying to find the words. But before he could speak, she interrupted him with a kiss.

Capturing his lips in another quick, soft kiss before he broke away to brush a strand of hair from her face as their foreheads pressed together. "And here I was thinking you rejected me that day I tried to talk to you about…well…when we almost did this" He sniffled.

“I was here thinking you just wanted to hook up or something. Thinking that you’d never love me the way I love you. How could you possibly think that, charming?” She whispered back. Tears brimming in her eyes again. Seeing the tears well in her eyes, Dean's heart clenched in his chest. He gently wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, his expression softening.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She croaked painfully. "Because I was afraid," He admitted, ashamed, his voice quieter now. "Afraid that if I confessed my feelings, I'd lose you. Afraid that you wouldn't feel the same way, that I'd ruin the friendship we've built over the years. Just like you said"

She shook her head, “Even if I didn’t feel the same way- Which I do, by the way. You’d never lose me, like I said” She assured him softly. She chuckled lightly at the irony, “God, we really are like a bad romance novel” Y/N shook her head, at how much of a cliche this all has been. Dean felt a weight lift off his shoulders as she spoke, her reassurance easing some of the doubts that had plagued him for so long.

Laughing along with her, "I should've known better," He said, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "You're too stubborn to get rid of that easily." He tried to joke, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N chuckled lightly, “You’re darn tootin’, Winchester. You ain’t getting rid of me now or ever” She smiled, laying a kiss on his lips.

-

Meanwhile all of this is unfolding, Bobby and Sam sat front row as they peered through the creased curtains at his windows in the house, watching intently as the scene between Dean and Y/N played out in the yard.

Words were being tossed back and forth between the two until Dean finally took his hand into hers. The nosey hunters stood in tense silence as Dean spoke softly to her until Y/N finally snatched Dean by his face and took his lips onto hers.

Bobby wore a satisfied grin and a proud smirk. Sam and Bobby shared a wordless high-five, their eyes still trained out the window at the angsty couple.

"Well, I’ll be damned. It's about fucking time," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Those idjits finally figured it out."

Sam chuckled with a scoff, a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face, "I can't believe it," he whispered. "Looks like they finally got their heads out their asses. It only took them a decade or two." Sam chuckled, a grin plastered across his face.

-

“You think they were watching us?” Y/N chuckled, referring to Sam and Bobby. Dean's face still between the palms of her hand, his light stubble pricking lightly on her soft hands. His own residing on her hips, Dean chuckled along with her, their eyes drifting towards the window where Sam and Bobby stood, their eyes widened, quickly closing the curtain, attempting to act like they weren't peeping.

And slightly sheepish grew on his face. "Knowing those two, they probably saw the whole thing," He said, shaking his head. "Sam's probably ecstatic that I finally grew a pair and told you how I feel.” Dean commented warning a laugh from her, “Yeah, he probably is thinking the same with me” She chuckled, throwing her head back.

His thumbs traced small circles on her hip, she tugged at her bottom lip slightly as he did this. Seeing that movement, his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her mouth. "You know," He said, his voice lowered. “That was so much hotter than last time” Dean teased, referring to their first kiss as kids. (See ‘First Kiss?’ in the prequel to understand).

Y/N’s mouth fell agape, her cheeks flushed red. “I was hoping you didn’t remember that!” She cackled, throwing her head back. “How could I ever forget it?” He said in a gentle tone, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

Her eyes softened at this until he added, “You were terrible” amusement coated his tone, earning a smack from his girl. He roared a laugh in response, “I was seven! And you were a nervous wreck. It was either I do it or we would’ve sat behind that car all day” She defended with mock annoyance. “I know, Princess. I’m kidding” He chuckled, attaching his lips to her in a soft gentle kiss.

His hands slowly traveled down, slipping into her back pockets, gripping her ass, giving it a soft, yet firm squeeze as their lips moved in sync. A gasp brushed past her lips and onto his. "But there's more I want to do … but only if you’re comfortable with that" He leaned forward, nipping at her neck.

She let out yet another soft gasp, her head tilting slightly to give him better access to her neck. He took advantage of that, continuing to kiss and nibble at her skin, his hands still holding her in place. Her breath hitched at his words and actions, feeling Dean’s soft lips on her neck. A shiver ran down her spine as I continued to nip and kiss her sensitive skin.

"Oh yeah?" She breathed out, her voice wavering slightly. "And what else do you want to do?" He smirked against her skin, his lips hovering over her pulse point. "You really want me to spell it out for you?" Dean whispered, his tongue tracing the length of her jaw. His hands still firmly planted against her ass, giving her another firmer squeeze.

A mischievous yet seductive smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as a straggled moan escaped her throat. His grip on her ass, tightened, teasingly palming at them. He could feel his stomach flutter and his jeans tighten at this. She could feel her panties dampen practically through her jeans as he pulled her closer, his firm body pressing against hers. "I’d love for you to spell it out for me" Y/N murmured, her voice dripping with desire.

The way her voice got all sultry made his pulse quicken, his body reacting to her words as his breath got stuck in his throat. This goddamn woman will eat him alive and he’s counting on it. "Why don’t we start with this, princess?" His voice dropped an octave and with that, he crashed his lips against hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring and tasting her thoroughly.

The nickname ‘princess’ always had a way of making her weak in her knees, especially today. Her body melted against his as their lips moved against each others in a slow, sloppy kiss. His tongue swirled around hers fighting for dominance, tasting her sweetness and exploring her mouth.

She tasted like a mix of tobacco and a hint of a mint from the menthols she smoked. Damn, she tasted like a heavenly-sin and all he wanted was to be even more damned than he already was.

Her knees buckled slightly as he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist to hold her up.

He backed up against the Impala’s hood now, pinning her between his body and the car. He continued to kiss her hungrily, his hands roaming over her body. One hand moved up to tangle in her hair, holding her head in place, while the other slid down to her ass, giving it another firm squeeze.

Dean’s hand slid from her ass to her thigh when she lifted her left leg besides his right hip, wrapping it around his waist. The moan that escaped Dean’s mouth was utterly desperate, craving more of the goddess in his arms.

His moan of desperation turned Y/N’s mind to mush. Her stomach fluttered with need. His arousal pressed against her jean clad mound that she was pretty certain was soaked through, earning a tiny wince from her.

"Darlin'," He breathed against her lips, breaking the kiss for just a moment. "As much as I want to take you right here, on the spot, I don't think Sam and Bobby will appreciate it."

Their lips parted as he spoke, his words sending a wave of heat through her body. Despite the desire coursing through her veins, she couldn't help but chuckle at his remark. "Fair point," she conceded, her hands still wandering along his broad shoulders as she lowered her leg back onto the ground.

"And I would like for our first time to be somewhere a little more decent, I'd rather not have them hear me screaming your name." She smirked.

At her words, a low growl escaped his throat, a wolfish grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Trust me, princess," He replied, his voice thick with desire. "When we do have our first time, I don’t care who hears your screams of pleasure. I want them to know you’re all mine."

Her eyes darkened at his words, the fire in them mirrored the burning need in his. "Is that a promise, Winchester?" She challenged, arching an eyebrow. He leaned in close, their lips just a breath apart, "It’s a damn guarantee, L/N" He retorted, his voice dripping with lust.

"Now, unless you want my hands and mouth all over you right here, I suggest we go inside before I forget that Sam and Bobby are waiting for us." He takes his hands onto hers, finally letting go. “Why don’t we head on over to my safehouse? It’s not far from here if you remember, we can take Sam with us” She suggests.

He took a moment to compose himself, his body still thrumming with arousal. He nodded in agreement, his mind going over her suggestion. He turned away from her to fix his jeans, sticking his hand inside to tuck his arousal away, earning an amused snort from his girlfriend.

"Sure thing, darlin'. Let's just grab the sasquatch and head on over.” He leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her forehead before reluctantly pulling away and heading back towards the house, his fingers intertwined with hers.

_______________________________________________

Authors Note: And with that, we have come to the end of yet another season🥰 DO YOU GUYS LOVE ME AGAIN?! (pun intended LMAO) I hope you all enjoyedddd. I cant wait to hear your lovely thoughts and I’m actually shook rn, I can’t believe it finally happened. Currently in tears😭❤️

Be sure to lmk what you loved and what you hated!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90

Xoxo

[luvh4nji]

𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 + 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

warnings: none that i can think of :-)

seonghwa ; he's the type to protect you. he always keeps a hand of the small of your back, walking slightly behind you so he can lead you away from anything he considers to be too dangerous. he's the type to make you walk on the inside of the sidewalk to keep you away from the road when you go out, he's the type to make you ask him to cut stuff for you when you're cooking because he gets nervous when you're around the sharp knives, he's the type to brush your hair out of your face when your working, bringing you cut up fruit and telling you how good you're doing. he just wants to take care of you and make you feel safe and, honestly, it would be a little annoying if it wasn't him. he's just so honest and earnest in everything he does, you can't help the way it makes you heart flutter <3

hongjoong ; he makes time for you. it may not seem like much, but he's such a busy guy, it means the world. he always lets you sit in with him in the studio while he's working, asking you to pull up a chair and giving you his headphones so you can listen to the song, always asking for your honest opinion of his work. and he never raises his voice at you. his job can be exceedingly stressful and he never wants to put that on you, so he always treats you with so much care. "come over here, babe, i got something for you to listen to." side note; he definitely writes songs for you <3

yunho ; he likes to surprise you with kisses. he's the type to keep his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to give you little pecks all over your face whenever he gets the chance. and he can never just give you one, he always has to lean back in for more. "i can't help it, baby, you're just so sweet." he'd tease, ruffling your hair when you giggle against his lips, half-heartedly asking him to stop. he's definitely the type to turn his head when you lean in to kiss him on the cheek, grinning into the kiss <3

yeosang ; he's the type to notice the little things. he always compliments you on your nails or your hair, telling you you look gorgeous in that new dress you bought. and he notices your mood, as well, he's become so attuned to how you're feeling. "what's got you so happy, hmm?" he'd asks when he sees you jumping into his apartment, wrapping you up in his arms and leaving a kiss on your forehead while you tell him about your day. and he'd know when you're not feeling so good, too, smoothing down your hair and pressing you close to his chest while he asks you what's wrong.

san ; he's the type to hype you up constantly. he never gives you the chance to feel insecure, because he's always complimenting you. he casually calls you beautiful and gorgeous and pretty - perhaps the prettiest person in the whole world. and he's always all over you; there's never a moment when he doesn't have his hands on you or he's not touching you in some way. and he loves to give you kisses, he's always trying to plant one on you, giving you little nips between kisses.

mingi ; he always listens to you. it was one of the things that you made you fall for him; he always pays attention to you when you talk, even when no one else does. when people start talking over you while you're telling a story, he notices how discouraged you get and leans closer to you, urging you to continue, giving you his full and undivided attention. he loves seeing how comfortable you get around him, he loves knowing that he can be somebody you rely on, even if it's just to give you some attention <3

wooyoung ; the type to use a soft voice around you. he knows that he can get loud and he knows that it can get overwhelming and all he really wants to do is make you comfortable. he wants to a safe place for you to feel safe and secure, so he always speaks to you softly. he talks to loud to the boys, but the second he comes home and sees you, he gives you that lovestruck expression, looking at you with a reverence you've never seen on him.

jongho ; the type to follow you around. jongho seems like the type to be very firm in his decisions and himself in general, but he becomes such a softy when it comes to you. he wants to be able to lift you up and make you feel as supported as you make him feel, so he'll do whatever you tell him to do, really. you want him to go get you something from the convenience store in the middle of the night? he's on it. you want him to come help you and keep you company while you study for a big exam? he's there. you need someone to rant to after a long day of work, not even necessarily to ask for advice, but just to listen? you don't even have to ask, he's already on his way.

[stargirlinterludefr]

ENOUGH FOR YOU: former rafe cameron x reader, jj maybank x reader (part 2 of this)

Based off of the song enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: All you ever wanted was to be enough for Rafe but you realise he could never accept that, someone else can love you the way you deserve though.

TW: mentions of a previous toxic relationship, mentions of drug usage (cocaine), emotional manipulation, angst, fluff, addiction, Rafe being a dick, JJ being his loving self, happy ending (for the reader.)

Word count: Around 3,400

Notes: I’m not as fond as this one but I promised part two and I shall deliver!

I wore makeup when we dated

'Cause I thought you'd like me more

If I looked like the other prom queens

I know that you loved before

The month after you’re split from Rafe was a blur, while you’d felt more freer than you had in over a year you still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt on your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t quite deduce.

However, falling back into stride with the pogues had made things one million times easier. They were like a warm blanket waiting for you after a long day, ready to wrap you up and protect you from the cold. The cold being Rafe.

None of them realised the deep extent to his manipulation of you, the way he’d twisted you into someone so unrecognisable and fragile had them feeling devastatingly remorseful.

Particular everyday instances is where Rafe really shines through in your actions, and the thought had JJ feeling nauseous.

Both you and the Maybank boy are sat on the dock at the Chateau, your legs dangling from the side of the wood as he watches you, his eyes catching onto the hints of makeup lingering on your skin.

“Why’re you wearin’ makeup, mama? It’s like fifty degrees out.” The boy states, his voice airy and joking but it makes your stomach drop slightly as you shrug.

“Force of habit, I guess.” You mumble with a small smile, bringing your knees to your chest as you lay your chin on them.

JJ ponders for a moment, quelling over his previous question and what he would say next to ensure he wouldn’t say the wrong thing. Before Rafe, you hardly wore makeup, you’d wear a small amount sure but it was rarely noticeable and JJ had always thought you looked so entrancing without it but when Rafe cooped you up in his little toxic nest…he doesn’t think he’s seen you go without.

“You know you don’t need it, right? You’re like, the most beautiful girl on the island.” He states, gently nudging your shoulder so you’d look at him “Don’t be tellin’ Kie I said that, she’ll be gettin’ all jealous.” The boy jokes and you give him a gentle smile to which he returns immediately.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked

Just for you to say you're not the compliment type

One week into your breakup had you looking through old text messages, while you know you shouldn’t, something about looking upon the way Rafe treated you when you were no longer under his thumb gave you a entirely new perspective.

A specific chain of messages has you slowing your scrolling to intently read them.

You: *attached one image*

You: what do you think of this new dress I got?

You let out a scoff at the sight of the dress, mind whirring now at how kooky it looked fitted onto your figure.

Rafe: it’s a dress?

You: that’s it??

Rafe: idk what u expect i don’t do compliments babe

Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, you place your phone down and stare up at the ceiling of John B’s bedroom.

You remembered wearing that dress to a party the night after showing him it, feeling completely out of place, like a prized calf dressed up for auction.

And he’d still never complimented you, even when you looked like his picture perfect type.

And I knew how you took your coffee

And your favorite songs by heart

I read all of your self-help books

So you'd think that I was smart

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave

Officially going out into the outer banks after the breakup took additional encouragement from your friends, you’d been to and from homes but you’d not dared to venture into the town.

Somehow, Pope and Kiara had convinced you to accompany them to a cafe near figure eight as they had quote on quote ‘the best coffee on the island’

You hadn’t considered that you might run the risk of falling into old habits as soon as you walked through the doors.

“What’re you guys fancying?” Kiara quotes in a mock english accent, Pope rolling his eyes at the girl as you snort.

“I’m fancying the idea that you never do that again.” Pope quirks back, earning a frown from Kiara who sarcastically placed her hand to her chest.

“Come on guys, it’s on me.” She notes, looking up at the board of differing coffees as you reply.

“Uh, just a black coffee for me.” You say absentmindedly, swinging on your heels, both Pope and Kie’s heads turning to you making you laugh nervously.

“What? Have my tits fallen out or something? Why’re you looking at me like I just committed a hate crime?” You blurt, eyes darting between them both as Kiara’s face twists slightly.

“You hate black coffee.” She says, ensuring to pronunciation the word ‘hate.’

Pope nods in agreement before adding to her statement, “Yeah, I mean, John B and JJ gave you it as a joke once just after you’d woken up and you literally threw the mug at their heads.”

You look to the floor, picking on the skin of your arm slightly as you shrug and before you can even come up with a lie to explain why you’d had a change of heart toward the drink Kiara speaks up again.

“It’s not you that likes it, is it? It’s Rafe.” You don’t notice the way she and Pope lock eyes, a look of pure anger washing over the Heyward boys face.

You feel stupid, stood there ordering Rafe’s order for yourself, if he were here he’d attempt to joke that you were obsessive and proceed to call you emotional when you had the reaction you were having now.

“Screw that asshole, we’re getting you a…Caramel Cappuccino!” She exclaims, linking her arm with yours as she looks up at the board, “And then we’re going to torch everything you still have of Rafe’s.”

You don’t bother to protest with her, a small grateful smile making its way to your lips.

You found someone more exciting

The next second, you were gone

And you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

And you always say I'm never satisfied

But I don't think that's true

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

And all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

Your phone is blowing up again, a loud groan sounding from beside you as you stare down at the device.

“Is that Rafe again?” JJ grumbled, gesturing for you to show him what Rafe is sending but you hand him your phone instead, the boy immediately begins to shake his head as he reads the chain of messages your ex has sent.

“Can the dude not get a hint?” He mutters, eyes flicking to you as your head falls back onto the sofa.

You zone out for a few moments but your brought back by the sound of JJ’s loud scoff, he’d clearly been reading more of the end laugh gif messages Rafe loved to leave you daily.

“The fuck does he mean you’re never satisfied with what he gave you? That asshole never did shit apart from manipulate and-“ Before he can finish, you’re gently taking the phone from his hold and placing it beside you as you look back to him.

“And that’s what he’s still tryna do, Jay, he says I’m never satisfied but like did he see the amount of chicks he was flirting with at parties? And he has the audacity to say I’m never satisfied?” You ramble, letting out a scoff at the end as JJ stares at you intently and you wait for a moment, for him to interrupt…to tell you to stop yapping, to stop being annoying but he never does so you continue.

And maybe I'm just not as interesting

As the girls you had before

But God, you couldn't have cared less

About someone who loved you more

I'd say you broke my heart

But you broke much more than that

Now I don't want your sympathy

I just want myself back

Walking through figure eight without Rafe feels like an out of body experience for you, as though it wasn’t plausible to actually be without him around here.

Sarah, Cleo and Kiara walk alongside you. The four of you on a small venture to Sarah’s home to get some of her clothes as you’d planned an all girls sleepover at Kiara’s home, allowing the boys to run rampage at the Chateau.

Plus, the girls had been dying to do so ever since you’d officially rekindled with them.

What they didn’t want to do, was to put you through the trauma of seeing Rafe but you’d assured them you were fine going to Tannyhill as long as you were surrounded by them and Sarah had assured you that Rafe was out. He apparently hadn’t been home often since your split.

As you walk through the gate at the front of the mansion, you feel your body riddle itself with anxiety almost immediately making you swallow harshly.

“You okay, girl?” Cleo asks, grasping your hand in her own as Sarah and Kie come to a stop infront of you.

“Yeah I’m good, I just…” you trail off, eyes floating toward Sarah who smiles in understanding.

“You don’t have to come in, me and Kie can just run inside and grab a few things.” She says softly, eyes achingly kind and your mind whirrs back to the conversation you’d had outside of Tannyhill only a few months prior.

You shake you head, “It’s okay, I can just-“ You cut yourself off as your eyes trail upward and to the all too familiar balcony at the front of the mansion where your eyes catch onto a figure.

Rafe is watching the four of your intently, his eyes primarily on you as you freeze up once more with all three girls following your eyeline to spot the Cameron boy.

As expeceted, Sarah is immediately full of apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise he’d be here.” She whispers quickly and you can’t bring yourself to respond, feeling like you’re deep rooted into your spot on the driveway.

Kiara eyes are furious as they look up at your ex, her fist clenching and unclenching as she cocks her head almost challenging him to even acknowledge you.

“That motherfucker better stay where he is or I’ll gut him like a fish.” Cleo states lowly, bringing herself to stand in front of you slightly as Rafe continues to stare.

You snap your gaze away from him, eyes flitting to Sarah who is looking at you with a mass amount of guilt.

“On second thought, I think I’ll stay out here.” You mumble, attempting to have a teasing tone but your voice comes out shaky and vulnerable causing you to curse yourself silently.

Rafe had basically turned you into a frightened child, trembling in her boots at just the sight of him.

“Okay, we’ll be right out.” She says softly, grabbing Kiara’s hand and running inside leaving Cleo to stand infront of you protectively.

“If he even dares to leave that house…” She grumbles, left hand now donning her iconic pocket knife she carried no matter where she went.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you slowly withdraw it, knowing exactly who’s messaged you as your eyes scan the text and then dart to where the man himself stands as you slowly hand Cleo the phone so she could read it herself.

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy!” You shout out, voice holding a slight tremble as you stare up at him in fury, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Rafe: I never meant for you to be afraid to be around me

Rafe: plz come in so we can talk.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Five months after the split and you’d successfully avoided any interactions with Rafe, sure he’d been in close proximity to you but thanks to your friends he didn’t even get the opportunity to utter one single word to you.

Overcoming the small manipulations he’d implanted in your mind was a milestone you were incredibly proud of, coming to your own realisations at how fucked up he was toward you.

You’d observed over the months how he’d been with other women, well not seeing him with them personally but hearing about such notions from either Sarah or Rafe’s friends. You’d heard how easily he used and discarded them and you followed his distinct patterns to yourself.

While you knew he was with you for a significant period of time that didn’t mean he didn’t not use you, you were the picture perfect girlfriend to parade around to parties and to impress his father.

But he discarded you after every event, made you feel like a disappointment.

And he’d pushed you to believe you deserved nothing.

Despite that being a significant factor of your relationship you struggle to heal from, luckily, you have JJ.

JJ had always been obvious with his feelings toward you, he never bothered to hide them before you’d gotten with Rafe but he respected your decision when you did eventually get together with the Cameron boy and he ensured he was primarily your friend after the split.

But with months of pining and being there for you, and you for him, he’d laid his heart on a silver platter for you.

You didn’t realise you’d been falling for him but you weren’t going to deprive him or yourself of the happiness it would both serve to you.

And when you told him? JJ became the happiest man on the planet.

But don't tell me you're sorry, boy

Feel sorry for yourself

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

You and JJ had decided to take things slow, he didn’t want you to feel pressured or like he wasn’t valuing you by rushing into things (A notion which made you fall for the blonde haired boy even more.)

You’d been dating for around a month now, JJ not being able to wipe the cheesy grin off of his face whenever he was with you and you’d never felt happier.

The two of you were sat at the boneyard, tipsy off of beer and one another’s presence, as JJ holds you onto his chest.

What you had failed to notice, was Rafe making his way to stand before you and at the sight of him your stomach churns violently with nerves.

“So what? You’re fucking Maybank now?” He says loudly, voice hoarse and at the sight of the boy’s appearance you immediately feel sorry for him.

“Get lost Cameron.” JJ says boredly, not bothering to move from his position holding you as he glares up at Rafe.

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry! But fucking Maybank is low, I didn’t realise you were so fucking trashy.” Rafe slurs but you don’t find yourself being hurt or even bothered by his words as you simply tilt your head at him.

“Yo! Watch your kook mouth when speaking to my girl!” JJ shouts, voice laced with fury as he goes to rise but you place a hand on his chest to settle him back into place as you snap your head to Rafe.

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies, Rafe, I don’t think it’s me you need to be sorry for.” You state, voice not tethering on anger as you lean into JJ showing your lack of interest toward the Cameron boy. “It’s yourself.”

And they'll think that I am so exciting

You’d heard from Sarah that Rafe had stopped doing cocaine, apparently he’d even gone to a rehab centre on the mainland and you acknowledged that you felt truly happy for him.

But honestly? You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on the thought of him getting his shit together.

Sure, you cared, a part of you would always hold care for Rafe but you didn’t spend time thinking about the man or what could’ve been if he’d begun healing while you were together or even before.

It’d been 18 months since you’d split from Rafe and you never thought you’d know the happiness that you’d witnessed on John B and Sarah’s faces at that party.

You were wrong, obviously.

You’re walking down the pathway after finishing up work at the small cafe you’d landed a job at in figure eight, Sarah having gotten you the role as it was one of Rose’s friends who owned the business.

JJ was on his was to pick you up, having already told you he’d be slightly delayed as he’d promised to do a small delivery for Pope’s father and you’d assured him you were okay with waiting as he borderline refused to let you walk from figure eight to the cut. The journey being around an hour and he didn’t want his girl getting overheated.

You’re not paying attention as you walk, eyes trained on your phone as you message on the Pogues group chat and due to your distraction, you collide into a chest which leaves you grappling to grasp your phone before it falls.

“Oh my god, i’m so sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You exclaim, blowing out a breath as you look at the person who you’d walked into and your eyes widen slightly at the sight.

Rafe.

Yet, he didn’t look like the Rafe you remembered.

The boy had shaved his head of hair away, now donning a buzz cut and the usual blown pupils that looked upon you in the past were now a normal sizing as he smiles down at you, nervously.

“It’s all good, y/n.” He says softly, not protesting when you take a step backward. “H-how have you been?”

You nod and shrug awkwardly at the same time, “Good, really good actually.”

Rafe smiles, “I’m glad to hear.”

“And you?” You ask, shoving your hands into your shorts that weren’t actually yours but JJ’s.

“I’m getting there, I’m uh three months clean now.” He notes and you feel yourself smile at the mention, not noticing the way his gaze seems to light up at the sight of your smile.

“That’s good, I’m happy for you.” You state, eyes genuine and sincere as you look up at him.

“I know it’s not my business but, how are you and Maybank doing? You guys still together?” He inquires and you want to snap at him for asking but you instead smile wider at the mention of JJ, happy you get to talk about your love.

“Yeah we are, we’ve actually just got our own place together.” You say softly, now fiddling with the promise ring JJ had given you which was placed perfectly on your right hand.

Rafe eyes watch your movements and while you don’t see the regret in his gaze, he feels it immensely.

The boy opens his mouth to respond but the sound of a motorbike whirring has the both of you turning to the source. At the sight of a familiar red bike drawing nearer, you grin.

“That’s Jay.” You mumble to yourself, turning back to Rafe as you smile at him once more, “It was good to see you, I’m real glad you’re doing better.” And while you know it sounds rushed, you can’t bring yourself to care as you turn away and walk down the pathway to where JJ had pulled up.

When you were with Rafe, you’d be expected to just hop onto the bike with no greeting as he’d impatiently tap his fingers on the handles. But JJ isn’t Rafe, not even close.

The blonde haired boy immediately stands off of his bike, propping it up and jogging toward you as he scoops you into his arms to spin you around causing you to squeal in delight.

Rafe watches the interaction, the pure bliss on your face similar to nothing he’d ever seen when the two of you were together and while he’d forever consider you to be the loss of his life he couldn’t find himself being bitter you’d found love with JJ.

Rafe didn’t treat you with the love or excitement you deserved but JJ does, and the Maybank boy will ensure he spends the duration of your lives together proving you deserve such happiness.

[romancefranaticstay]

☆.｡.:* Neighbor ☆.｡.:*

Neighbor!Jeongin x fem!reader

Category: fluff ❤

Warnings: ♥ None ♥ (but... maybe a little smut towards the end)

Note: A short story about some neighbor fluff, very romantic (in mine opinion), i hope you enjoy!

Xoxo

Rachel

You were wearing headphone's, jumping around with your music.

"I bring, I bring all the Drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) I bring drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) With my girls in the back"

You singed, making some little dance move's.

'나로 시작되는 drama (all that)'

You were heading towards your house when you saw a moving van. That's weird, you didn't move, did you? You snuck a little closer and saw a new family moving into the house next door.

You saw two people standing there, they were probably a couple. They looked quite old, maybe they had children. Oh! That would be so nice, to finally have friends in your neighborhood.

You went inside and grabbed a snack from the fridge. You didn't have much to do before school tomorrow, so you could finally get some rest and enjoy these beautiful spring days.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Eventually you started to get bored in your room. You went downstairs to your garden. Your garden was so beautiful, because all the sunlight always shone in your garden.

Beautiful, but a few clouds in the sky. The trees glistened in the sunlight, everything looked more beautiful than usual. Suddenly you heard a voice.

'안녕하세요, Hey.'

You looked around to see where the voice came from. You looked to your right and saw a boy leaning against the gate of your garden. He had black hair that fell slightly over his eyes.

"Hey."

"Do you live here?"

'No, I'm just sitting in their garden, sorry, I'm being sarcastic again. Yes, I live here.'

"So you're my new neighbor?"

'Ahh, so you are our new neighbors, welcome to the neighborhood by the way. It's very quiet here, so you're going to love it here.'

"I'm sure I'll like it here." he said under his breath.

"So, what are you doing?"

"I was actually listening to music."

'Can I listen in?'

"Of course, come."

He carefully opened the gate and approached you. When he came closer, you could observe his face better. He was actually very beautiful. He calmly took the headphones from your head and placed them near his ears.

"I know this song!"

'Really? What's it called then?'

'Let me think...

I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 I'm a, I'm a, I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 "

he started to sing. You laughed, he could actually sing very nicely.

"So you know it."

'Of course I know. Can I show you some songs?'

"Sure, go ahead."

He grabbed your phone and started typing something on Spotify. You recognized the lyrics immediately.

“Ahh, BTS run.

손 뻗어봤자 금세 깨버릴 꿈 (꿈, 꿈) 미칠 듯 달려도 또 제자리일 뿐 (뿐, 뿐)

그냥 날 태워줘, 그래, 더 밀쳐 내줘 이건 사랑에 미친 멍청이의 뜀박질 ..."

You both started laughing.

"Actually, I should be helping my parents, so... I'll see you later?"

'Yep, ofcourse.'

He waved and went out of sight. Finally someone to be friends with, or so you thought...

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Every day you learned something new about him. He had a big brother and a little brother. He likes his personal space and he has some different tastes in music. His favorite colors are also Coral and Teal. He also has a lot of passion for music.

He told something about his friends, it doesn't mean that he has moved that he has to change schools. You've already heard of someone named Seungmin and Changbin. They sound very funny. He is the youngest of his group of friends.

You sat with him in his room, you lay on his bed.

"You know, I'd love to build a time machine and go back to the '90s."

'How so?' Jeongin asked.

"I just want to see how everything works there."

'Do you like the 90s concept?'

'Yes of course! The hair, the clothing style, the stuff, wow.'

'Yes, that's possible.'

'Which era do you find most interesting?'

'I don't really know, maybe just this time, because we live in the moment now. We live now and not in the past. We will never be able to live in the past, so why compare this time to the others?"

“Wow, very poetic Jeongin.”

'Am I wrong?'

"No, in a strange way it all makes a lot of sense."

"Let's change the subject."

"Okay sure, what do you want to talk about?"

'Maybe about love? Do you believe in soulmates?'

'Me? I don't know, sometimes I feel like there's one person for everyone. But sometimes I think that certain people just fit together because of certain interests. And you?'

'I don't know, I think so. I want to live with the idea that there is someone for me, who suits me exactly. Okay, maybe not exactly, but still.' 'Yes..'

"You know, this might sound really weird, but maybe I can try out my flirting techniques on you?"

"Sure, but don't think it'll work."

'Bet?'

"Okay bet."

He came next to you on the bed. He grabbed your hand with one hand and caressed your cheeks with the other.

"Do you think that'll work?"

"Shh, I wasn't ready yet."

He breathed deeply and started looking into your eyes.

“You always look like an angel Y/N.”

'Am I an angel? More like a devil.'

He rolled his eyes and turned back to you. He looked from your eyes to your lips and vice versa. He touched your lips with his thumb, your heart skipped a beat.

“These lips Y/N, these lips, the most beautiful thing.”

You couldn't say anything anymore, what could you say? Your hands slid to his hands. Even though he was so confident, his hands were a bit sweaty.

His face moved closer to yours and... he kissed your cheek softly.

'And? Good flirting techniques?' he says as you still hold his hands.

You cleared your throat.

'Yes, quite good, yes, I have heard better.'

'Are you sure?'

'Sure.' you avoided eye contact.

He turned your face so you were looking at him.

'A bad liar.'

Suddenly he pinned you down on the bed.

'And now?'

'Hmmm, it could be better.'

His eyes fell on your neck, he grinned. His mouth came closer to your neck, so close that you felt his warm breath on your so sensitive skin. His tongue made small circles on your neck, leaving small bites.

'And now?'

'It's better already.'

"I can always make it better."

His face came closer to yours, so close that you were about to kiss, but he only kissed your forehead.

Your puppy dog ​​eyes looked up at him. You wanted more... but not in a bad way. He wanted to leave again, but you didn't just let him go. You grabbed his face and pressed your lips together.

His eyes went wide, but he didn't back down. When your lips parted again, he just stared at you in surprise.

"How about that?" you said with a very big grin on your face.

You got up and went to his door.

“This was fun, I'll see you tomorrow. Same hour.”

You wanted to open the door but he stopped you.

"Do you think you'll leave now?"

He kissed you again and pushed you against the door a little. You felt his hands over your body, it couldn't be more romantic.

You looked down and saw that the bulge in his pants was big. He saw what you were looking at.

"Are you going to help me with this?"

'With pleasure.'

You said, leaving small kisses on his face.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

[the-lost-eighth]

Sanji x Reader oneshot

word count: 657

warnings: none ^_^

genre: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in forever, but I had to get this out of my head so i apologize if it's written poorly !! i tried my best. also he might be a tad OOC. song is what made me wanna write ⬇️

"I love you."

You were in the kitchen of the ship drinking with Sanji before he dropped this on you randomly. You stared at him with your mouth agape before letting out a soft chuckle, "Alright mate, that's enough drinks for you." as you reach for the bottle in front of him, you feel him firmly grip your wrist. "Y/N, I'm seri-serious." he said, hiccuping in between the word serious. "I'm in love with you. you're special. You stand out, make me feel different. you're everything to me." Sanji brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, "I want you all to myself. I want to wake up next to you every morning my dear. finding you was worth more than finding the all blue. you radiate the beauty of it already, it's like having the all blue by my side every day. You're–"

"Drunk. you're drunk and you're talking to talk Sanji. you've probably said this exact same shit to Nami or Robin. I'm not falling for your tricks, now let's get you some rest," you snap as you stand up, this time with his wrist in your hand as you head for his room. "Y/N, I'm not–"

"Sober is what you're not. Now c'mon, sleep." didn't seem like you'd hear him out any time soon. See, truth be told, you wanted his words to be true. you wanted the butterflies, and lingering touches, and sneaky glances to be worth it in the end, but you knew that Sanji was like this with every woman he met. nothing about you was special enough to change that. at least, that's how you saw things. he saw it differently though. you were-

"My secret ingredient." "I'm sorry?" you stopped on your path to his bedroom as you whipped your head around to make eye contact with the cook.

"You're my secret ingredient, the one piece of my life that I was missing. You're what completes my dish. I'd do anything to prove my love for you Y/N." You stared at him as he said this, feeling your face heat up. His eyes widened when he saw a tear make it way down your cheek, a small sniffle escaping your nose. "Why? Why me? Why not Robin, or Nami, why me of all people??" you choked out as more tears fell down your face. He quickly brought his hands up, wiping them away before cupping your cheeks, "You're perfect. You're sweet, gorgeous, smart, hilarious, you can cook really well, and I appreciate it deeply when you help me out in the kitchen, you're caring and generous, and insanely selfless. You risked your life to save someone you had just met, even when we all told you not to, you put their safety before your own and i admire that. your voice is soothing, your touch is calming, your laugh is like a drug, you always find some way to cheer me up but most importantly of all, you make me feel seen. you don't see me as a flirt, or just a cook, you see me as Sanji, and I love that about you. I love you, all of you, and I–" you cut him off by crashing your lips into his, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you hastily kiss him. he's caught off guard before transferring his hands from your face to your neck, kissing you back a lot more passionately than your rushed advances. you pull back for air and look at him softly, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "I love you too Sanji. so, so much." all he could do in response was give you a big stupid smile as he laughed and brought you into a tight embrace. the moment was so unreal he could've swore he was dreaming. but he wasn't, this was happening, you loved him back.

He had finally won in life.

The end :3

he's so 😩

[zepskies]

Choosing Him

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, Sam W. x Reader

Summary: You and Sam have been dating and living together for a few months, when Dean shocks you with a confession. Now you have to choose.

AN: This was requested by this beautiful anon! (And also by my friend! ❤️)

Read this as a stand-alone or see this imagine for context: Dean gives you an impossible choice. (In which Dean is in love with Sam’s girlfriend.)

**Note: This contains two alternate endings: Sam vs. Dean.

Song Inspo: “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, as well as love requited.

Imagine: Choosing him.

“Dean, just talk to me. What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

No, he implored. Angrily.

But he implored, nonetheless.

Dean was good at being stubborn. In fact, he was a professional. His lips were tight in a frown, his brows just as knitted as his brother’s.

He sat cross armed on the couch while Sam stood, using his hands to punctuate his exclamations, as he often did when he was frustrated.

“Nothing, man. I already told you,” Dean tried.

“No,” Sam said sharply. “She’s actively avoiding you. And you’re taking any excuse you can not to be within three feet of my girlfriend. So either you said something, or you did something.”

Dean looked up at his brother with a heavy sigh through his nose.

They’d been at this for a while now. So long that he was surprised you hadn’t come barreling into the living room already to break up the argument. Because he had a feeling that just the sight of you would shut them both up. (Not in a good way.)

Dean’s throat was tight, his stomach churning with unease, though he tried to show none of it on his face. He could see that Sam was on the verge of losing his shit. Just a hair away from assuming the worst.

And the worst of him.

That, Dean couldn’t abide.

“Look,” he gritted out. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sam paused, tilting his head. He took in a breath that was only slightly calming, enough that he lowered to a seat on the coffee table, across from his brother.

“Then what’d you say?” he asked.

Dean felt even guiltier just remembering.

Three weeks ago…

You wanted to know why he was drinking alone. Why he’d downed nearly an entire bottle of Jameson in the kitchen on a Tuesday night.

“You really wanna know?” Dean asked. His voice was both a rumble and a coarse whisper. His green-eyed gaze fell to your lips.

He watched you suck in a subtle breath. Your eyed widened, and your body froze. He also saw the blush staining your cheeks.

So he leaned in, slowly. He was mere inches away from finding out how sweet you really were.

He heard your shallow breath. His eyes flicked up to yours, and instinctively knew that he’d captured you. He was making you think about it.

“Tell me no,” Dean said. Tell me to stop, or I swear to God...

“Dean, what...” you whispered. But that wasn’t a no.

Still, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. Not to Sam.

Dean merely reached out with a hand to soothe a gentle thumb across your cheek. He realized then that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you go, if he had to.

"It comes down to this," Dean said. His voice was deep, full of grit and desire. He saw the conflict in your eyes.

He swallowed. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he used every ounce of self-restraint he had left, forcing his hand to fall away from your cheek.

"You've got two choices, sweetheart," he said. And he pulled away, leaving you there at the table.

You never told him to stop…but he just couldn’t do it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean eventually answered his brother.

He ultimately couldn’t bring himself to voice the desperation of a drunken idiot.

He met Sam’s gaze directly. This much, he could say.

“All you need to know is I’d never…even drunk off my ass, I’d never hurt you,” Dean said.

Sam turned those words back and forth in his mind. His mouth firmed as he read between the lines, as he so often had to with Dean, who struggled to express the deeper parts of himself. Sam realized then what his brother was finally confessing.

“She loves you,” Dean added, with a self-deprecating smile.

That fell between them for a moment, as Sam rested a hand on his knee and processed all of this in record time. He glanced up.

“What about you?” he asked.

Again, with that quirk of a smile that didn’t reach Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that either.”

He got up, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and left him there to continue thinking. Dean passed the kitchen and continued down the hall.

Neither man realized that you were standing behind the kitchen doorway. You’d been about to attempt a bit of stress baking. A chocolate tart, maybe. Or a cheese souffle. Or even the new cherry pie recipe you’d found for Dean. Anything to take your mind off your current predicament.

However, now you knew you couldn’t put it off anymore.

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ventured into the living room, where your boyfriend was still brooding. He raised his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. Even now, he was relieved to see you. He also felt like he was standing on unsteady ground.

“Hey, yourself,” you greeted back. You tried to smile, but your heart was in your stomach with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”

Sam seemed to realize what you wanted to talk about. He sighed.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Dean and I talked it out—”

“No. No, because I need to say this. Because you deserve to hear it from me,” you insisted.

You also paused, as you didn’t quite know where to go from here.

Sam’s brows furrowed, but he tried to be patient. He watched your gears turning as thought to thought shifted in your eyes. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how open and expressive you were. He could usually tell what you were thinking…except for today. And the past few weeks.

That was what had him more nervous than he’d like to admit. If a blow was coming, he’d really like to be prepared…but he just couldn’t fucking tell.

Until you began speaking.

“Okay, first of all. Nothing happened,” you assured. You rested your hands on Sam’s shoulders. He looked up into your eyes, but before he could even nod in response, you kept going.

“Dean was drunk, and I wasn’t. Which probably won’t make you feel all that better, but the point is, all I did was ask him what’s wrong? And he didn’t want to tell me. But then I pushed the issue, as you know I do sometimes. I’m working on it, I really am.”

You levied a finger at Sam, at which he could only nod. Again, before he could offer a reply, you kept going.  

“Well, finally he was all, you sure you wanna know?” you said, mimicking Dean’s deeper voice. Sam was tempted to smile, if but for what you were actually saying, and the way your gaze averted from his.

“And there was a moment there when…I thought maybe he might try to…but he didn’t. The problem is, I didn’t say no,” you confessed. Your brows knitted as you revealed how disheartened you felt at that, how guilt-ridden.

Sam’s eyes softened a bit, even though your words stung.  

“I should’ve said it,” you knew. “I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Though in my defense! I was in shock. He was saying shocking things without saying them, you know? And I don’t want to be in this cliché…teen drama-esque, love triangle bullshit! You’re not Edward and I’m not Bella and this isn’t goddamn Twilight. And I refuse to be treated as such.”

You were huffing and puffing by the end of your little rant. Your eyes widened a fraction when you caught Sam trying to stamp down a smile.

“Is this amusing to you?” you snapped.

“Not at all,” Sam said. He shook his head, and with a sigh, drew you back to him with his hands on your hips. You stood between his open legs and grasped the front of his shirt.

“Look, thank you for telling me,” he said. “I know that we kind of rushed this a little. The moving in thing, I mean. It just…it felt right, at the time.”

“Yeah, I was kinda there for that,” you quipped. Your smile made him smile in return.

“Well, I guess I just need to ask you…if it still feels right,” he said.

He looked up into your eyes, still not quite sure what he would find. His heart was in his throat, no matter how many times he cleared it. He was good at looking calm when he wasn’t, and maybe his face was composed, but inside him was a tempest.

You calmed it with one touch. A gentle hand on his chest.

“Sam,” you said. Your smile was beautiful and warm. “After you left Stanford. After what happened to Jess…I didn’t know that her funeral was the last time I was ever going to see you.”

Despite that melancholy memory, your lips soon curved into a grin.

“Well, not for a long time anyway.” You both lightened at that.

Then you became more contemplative. Your gaze wandered beyond him for a moment, lost in the past.

Sam’s hands moved up to your waist and squeezed gently. You came back to him with a brighter expression.

“But when I saw you again, I thought…damn, he’s amazing,” you said with a giggle. “Even more amazing then when I knew him.”

Sam looked down at that, despite his smile. You picked him back up with your hand on his cheek. It was overgrown with stubble, a week or so past when he'd usually shave.

You didn't mind the scratchiness, but you wondered if you'd been distracting him too with your indecision. That thought made you feel all the more guilty.

“I still think that when I see you. Get to wake up next to you, research mythology and symbology and dead languages, and other things that should be impossible,” you said. “So yes, it still feels right for me. Very much so.”

Sam’s more genuine smile lightened you. He nodded and let you tilt his head back, slipping your fingers through his hair. He liked the way you touched him freely, both reassuring and affectionate.

He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been quietly afraid. Afraid he'd read you wrong, that his heart had somehow lied to him. Now he knew that it rang true.

“Okay. Good,” he said. And he reached up to touch his lips to yours.

At least, it was a simple touch at first. It soon grew in passion, becoming a more claiming kiss. He pulled you in flush against him. A hand tangled into your hair, brushing against the back of your neck, and you hummed in delight.

Your hands sunk further into his hair, just as your mouth wordlessly claimed him back. His long fingers trailed down your back and made you shiver against him. You gave more and more of yourself with each kiss.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Because he deserved to hear that too.

Sam paused. His eyes were still closed as he recovered some of his breath. He rested his forehead against yours and brushed a tender hand down the soft column of your neck.

"I love you too," he admitted. He had resisted saying it, and even felt a bit ashamed that he'd doubted your feelings. Now, he felt like an idiot for not fighting harder before.

This, what he had with you, it was worth fighting for.

He smiled at the way you kissed his cheek then, soft and slow and with purpose.

After a moment, you pulled away to stroke his cheek once more…and also to tell him one last thing.

“When I saw you again, I did have another thought,” you said. “He’s amazing, but…how can I think that about my best friend’s boyfriend?”

Sam frowned then, as that reality had crossed his mind as well, back when he reconnected with you last year. You held a hand to your chest, over your heart.

“Jess was like a sister to me. So how could I think about you like that? It didn’t matter how much time had passed since her death. That thought, and those feelings still had weight, Sam,” you said. “My point is…try not to be too hard on your brother for this. I think he’d rather lob off an arm than cause you any pain.”

Sam considered your words with a nod.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry,” he said.

“No, I…I’d like to talk to him, if you don’t mind,” you said. “That is, if you trust me.”

Sam’s brows rose, and then furrowed slightly.

“I do, baby,” he said. “You can talk to him if you want, but…I have to. He’s my brother. He should hear it from me too.”

No need, Dean couldn’t help but think.

He pushed off from the wall, twisting a wrench in his hand as he made his way back to the garage.

It stung. Actually, it fucking cut and twisted. More painfully than Dean would ever, ever admit.

However, he knew when he needed to bow out. This was one of those times.

He’d just have to learn how to let you go, for good this time. He wouldn’t risk hurting you, or his brother again.

So once he made it to the end of the hall, he shut the door, once and for all.

Or…

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ducked out the back way, heading down the hall.

You found Dean exactly where you’d expected—in the garage, getting ready to work on his Baby. He was sitting on a stool with his box of tools beside him. Tools he didn’t let anyone touch (except for that one time you hid his power drill, just to mess with him).

You crossed your arms.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Dean sighed, and spied your stern face over his shoulder.

“What fucking now?” he muttered. You didn't quite hear him, but you recognized his surly frown.

“Yes, right now,” you said. “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Dean asked, raising incredulous brows. “Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You stepped up to him while he swiveled in your direction. “If you supposedly had feelings for me, why did you wait so damn long? Why did you wait until we got here?”

You weren’t just casually dating his brother. You were living with him. Even if it had just been a few months, you loved Sam…and yet, you hadn’t pushed Dean away when he almost kissed you.

Why, why, why? you thought. Your teeth ground together when you thought of how tenderly Dean had touched you. The fire in his eyes, just barely held back by a thin wall of self-restraint.

“Tell me no,” he’d said.

And now, annoyance made his face tight.

“Look, just forget about it, all right? I was drunk—”

“No. You weren’t that drunk,” you refuted. “I’ve seen you slaphappy, laughing at nothing, grinning like the Joker and falling onto the couch face-first, passed out drunk. You were coherent that night. You were honest. So tell me, how long have you felt this way?”

Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this. You both knew that, but he also knew that you weren’t giving him much of a choice.

And yet, you were waiting on him, as patiently as you could manage (something he knew was difficult for you). He sighed deeply.

“Pretty much from the beginning,” he said.

“What?” you said, ever so eloquently. You wanted to cringe at yourself. (And you called yourself a linguist.)

Your lips pursed in disbelief. “What part of the beginning?”

Dean glared heavenward, as if that could stop you from asking questions.

“From the first damn second I saw you,” he snapped. The longer he looked at you, however, he couldn’t help but soften. “I remember, you argued with Sam about dead languages, that Latin was for pussies. Ancient Greek was the tougher beat.”

That was true, you thought. And that argument stemmed back from when you and Sam were in college. Ancient history, you could say.

“The Greeks were more fun too,” you added. It triggered a smile to briefly lighten Dean’s face.

“Yeah, you said something about mass orgies,” he said, his brows furrowing.

You bit your lip at the memory. You might’ve winked at Dean with more confidence than you’d felt at the time.

Now, the man shook his head.

“Right then, I wanted to know you,” he said. “Problem is, the more I did, the more I liked what I saw.”

You stared back at him in dismay.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me from the beginning?” you asked.

Dean made a sound of frustration, carding a hand roughly through his hair.

“Oh, and what, break up the show?” he snarked. He waved haphazardly beyond you, to the moose of a man somewhere beyond the closed doors of the garage. Remembering his brother made Dean’s irritation start to fade, back into self-deprecation.

“You and Sam…you’ve got history,” he said. “He’s smart. He takes care of you, protects you. He’s uh, more the boyfriend type, anyway.”

Dean looked away from you then, crossing his arms. You relaxed yours and couldn’t help but draw near to him. A frown took over your features as you tilted your head.

“Okay, Sam and I have history,” you said with a nod. “But…you don’t think you’re smart too?”

Dean’s lips pursed somewhat as he glanced back up at you. You met his stare.

“You don’t think you’re capable of all those other things?” you asked.

Dean didn’t have an answer for you. At least, not one he was willing to say.

For the past few weeks, you’d been fighting with yourself. You’d turned that moment in the kitchen over and over in your mind, and why you couldn’t do what you were supposed to do.

Now, looking at Dean’s face, you understood why your heart broke for him. Why your heart ached with ridiculous longing for him in equal measure.

You knew then that he’d take care of you. That he’d protect you. And maybe…

“Sam and I don’t make a habit of going after the same girl,” Dean said. Even that, it seemed, was difficult for him to get out.

It broke you from your thoughts, again with your frown.

“Yeah?” you asked. A bit of your temper sparked once again. “Is that why you’re making me Yoko Ono? I’ll tell you something right now. You’re not John and Sam’s not Paul and I refuse to break up the band, Dean!”

“No one’s asking you to!” Dean said, finally raising his voice to match you.

He got off his seat and stood to his full height. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he still towered over you. You craned your head up to glare at him.

His green eyes were once again full of fire. You tried to resist it, but that look made a jolt of electricity zip down your spine, and between your legs.  

“Oh, really?” you retorted. “That’s what you want? For me to forget you didn’t shake me the hell up?”

“Yeah, I really fucking would,” Dean gritted out. Even though his heart leapt at your admission, that he’d shaken you up at all.

“Why?” you said. “If you claim to care about me, why would you—”

“Why would you?” he shot back. He gestured at you with a dismissive hand. “The second you saw him, it was like your face lit the hell up. I’m not gonna get in his way. And by the time the you two were together, I just…I didn’t think you…”

Dean cut himself off, turning from you to wipe a frustrated hand over his mouth.

You watched him very closely, all while you made efforts to take in some deep, even breaths. You followed him, and more tentatively, you grabbed onto his wrist to tug him back around.

“Why would I what, Dean? You didn’t think I’d what?” you all but pleaded. Your grip lowered and tightened on his hand.

“Just talk to me,” you said. “Because this is your one and only chance.”

He was reluctant. For once, you could see it written all over his face. Or maybe you were just getting better at reading him.

“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it,” said Dean.

Liar.

He shook his head and slipped his hand out of yours.

“At the end of the day, you saw him, not me,” he said. “So go back upstairs, and we’ll never have to talk about this again.”

Your frown deepened as he sat back down and tried to turn away from you. You were so goddamn mad. At yourself, or at him, you didn’t know what percentages of each.

So you closed the distance between you and Dean and turned him back around, with a firm hand on his shoulder. Even with that small touch, your insides fluttered at the firm muscle there, and the broadness of his frame when he let you move him. He blew out an exasperated breath.

You wavered just slightly, as you contemplated the confession you were about to make. It shamed you, but at the same time, you were woman enough to admit your mistakes.

“I did see you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “But Sam never hesitated to show me what he wanted. And maybe…maybe he was safer. Familiar, and less dangerous.”

Dean’s brows furrowed, incredulous and confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

You couldn’t fault him for it. Your hand eased on his shoulder.

“Dean, seeing Sam again was like getting my best friend back,” you told him. “Back in college, we were thick as thieves. Me and Jess, Sam and Brady. And when you two found me to help with that case, I wouldn’t have ever seen him as anything more than my friend…until he did something about it.”

Your gaze was pointed. Dean’s lips pursed.

“When I met you,” you continued, “it was like the Godfather ‘thunderbolt.’ When you flirted with me, I didn’t know what to do with myself…whereas with Sam, I could fall back on my old habits.”

Dean’s face knitted further, making you sigh.

“With Sam, I’m the person I was when he knew me. The me that never faltered. That had all my shit together,” you said. Your small smile then was self-deprecating at best.

You felt vulnerable. Dean could see it in the way you held yourself. It was costing you something to be this honest, and that meant something to him. His face might've been stoic, but he was hanging on your every word.

“With you…with you I can’t hide," you said. Your voice was softer, slightly trembling. "And that terrifies me, more than monsters.”

Looking into Dean’s eyes again, you found him actually listening. He seemed to be digesting your words, and trying to make sense of them. You reached for him, clenching a hand in his shirt.

“So what was it that you thought I wouldn’t do?” you asked.

Dean studied your face a moment longer. He hesitated.

But he couldn’t keep lying to you either. What you’d just said gave him hope that he wasn’t about to fall flat on his face here.

With a deep, defeated breath, he shook his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

“I just got to thinkin’…” he said. “Why would you give up what you’ve got with him, for me?”

You didn’t know quite what to feel when you looked down at him. Disheartened, sympathetic, annoyed…but most of all, you felt your heart clench.

Your hands framing Dean’s face brought his eyes back to yours. You stepped in between his open legs.

“I’m going to try something. Just once,” you said, biting your lip. “And if it doesn’t work, we won’t speak of this again. Understand?”

A true smile finally twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“All right,” he agreed. You nodded.

Slowly, ever slowly, you leaned down and brushed your lips with his. It was chaste and sweet. Your hands were soft curving along his jawline. His hands found their way to your waist, molding to your shape. That steadied you, and encouraged you to dive back in.

You tilted your head and kissed him a bit deeper. He held you more securely against him, like he was afraid you were going to think better of this and pull away from him.

But you didn’t. His lips were soft and supple and knew how to move against yours. He soon guided you down for a seat on his strong thighs, even though the stool he was sitting on creaked at the added weight.

Then his tongue begged entrance past your lips. If this was his one chance, then damn it, he was going to make the most out of it.

You let him in with a moan. Your fingers tangled in his short hair, your nails dragging down the back of his neck and making a tendril of heat run down his spine. He squeezed your hips, down your thighs, while his lips continued to ravage yours.

It was one hell of a kiss.

But it wasn’t just lust either. At least, not for you. It was warmth, and an overwhelming feeling being right where you were always meant to be.

For Dean, it felt like a craving he wasn't meant to indulge in...but even so, having you in his arms felt as natural as he feared it would be. He didn't just want you. He wanted this. Today, and every day.

When his lips finally dragged away from yours, it took you a moment before you could even open your eyes, let alone catch your breath.

“Damn it,” you whispered.

Dean chuckled, and pulled back just far enough to graze your cheek with his curled fingers.

“Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. You smiled, but it soon fell.

“Oh God, Dean. What’re we gonna do?” you asked. Already there were tears stinging in your eyes. And still, you held him back with your arms curled around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Dean’s relief, and a hidden swell of happiness, also dimmed. “That ship’s sailed, sweetheart."

You sniffed, wiping at your face. “Don’t joke right now, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he said. He held you a fraction tighter. His deep voice rumbled, with desire, longing, and remorse all at once. “I’m actually serious beyond fucking belief.”

You saw everything you needed to see in his eyes. It gave you the strength to be honest.

“So am I,” you nodded, sniffling again. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother. I’ll do it.”

You stroked his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble against your fingers.

“Together, then,” you compromised.

And with an unsettled breath, you reluctantly detangled yourself from Dean. Before this went any further, you needed to talk to Sam. It was easily one of the hardest things you’d ever contemplated doing in your life.

Dean seemed to have similar thoughts as he let you up, then stood along with you. He dragged a hand through his hair again and heaved a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he said. His brows drew together as he considered every alternative reaction his brother might have. None of them were pretty.

You rested a hand on his arm.

“Look, Dean. If we’re going to do this…if I need to leave the bunker, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, as long as you’re in this with me,” you said.

Both your gaze and your will were unwavering. Dean didn’t doubt that you meant every word; that you were willing to jump into the fire with him. And that was just a small fraction of what had made him fall in love with you.

He took your hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“I’m with you,” he replied.  

AN: So while it was painful to contemplate both of these scenarios, I hope I did them justice! 🥲

Which ending was your favorite: Sam, or Dean? 😘

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[fairestwriting]

Hello Lis! Wow, it’s been a minute. How are you doing?

Sooo I got a request I was saving.

May I request HCs of the Music Club Trio (Cater Diamond, Kalim Al Asim, and Lilia Vanrouge) (Separately) who found out that [Reader] [Gender Neutral] [Platonic or Romance (your choice)] can sing/rap incredibly when they were alone practicing their vocals in an empty classroom? [Reader] was trying to keep their talent low-profile as they don’t like too much attention and can’t deal with embarrassment if something slips. How would the three react?

- @sanctum-of-ramshackle

hellooooo it has been a Lot of minutes huh 😭 but im surviving!!! the call of writing is one i can't bring myself to ignore .....

and! since you said both platonic and romantic are fine, im writing it more ambiguously so the other readers can see it however they prefer ;3

Cater Diamond

At first, he's too shocked to move, standing near the door and just listening in awe, but he eventually just snaps. Breaks your focus with a sound that's almost a squeak, rushing into the classroom you thought was empty way too quickly. Probably startles you into making a noise sounding just as awkward as his.

The questions of when and how you learn to sing like this start, Cater grabbing your hands and lookinf at you with big, bright eyes. And though he's usually cheerful, this degree of excitement still feels like a completely new side to him. You mumble out your explanations of how you've been practicing a long time, but had some specific boundaries...

He listens to each and every word, maybe even surprising you with the attentiveness. You might have expected requests for videos and pictures for social media posts anyway, but there are none. Instead, he cheerfully raises a hand and asks if he can practice with you. Then if you want to go to karaoke with him this weekend-- He's a bit more pushy about this one.

(If you're especially close, Cater might ask for an audio of you singing your favorite song. The intimate feeling of the request makes him nervous, but he can't really resist. Doesn't matter if your next school break is far away, he already knows he's gonna miss your singing a near painful amount.)

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn't think twice after the first few lyrics he sees you sing so soulfully... a part of him wanted to stay by the door and listen until you were done with the song, but Kalim just can't hold back, and he rushes into the classroom just like Cater would. Unlike him, though, Kalim mostly showers you in praise.

It's a bit hard to have any sort of conversation for a bit, when he keeps guahing about how well you held that note and how emotional you sounded in that verse and how your voice was so, so, so beautiful, why didn't you share that with the club before?

...At least, with that one question, Kalim gives you enough time to explain yourself, and your concerns about unwanted attention, then the stage fright... and he does listen, though it takes a bit for him to understand. But it's definitely not in a malicious way, and you can see that. He's just so, so, so awed by how amazing your singing voice sounds.

Then, he has his own questions, a few on your background with music -- hardly the focus -- and a bunch on if you'd be willing to sing for the Music Club when they gathered. He assures, with that always sunny smile of his, that it's completely okay if you don't want to do that, but he's sure the other members would be delighted to hear you too.

And if you don't want to share that with them, Kalim asks if it's okay for him to listen to you a little more? He promises to not disrupt your practice. If you agree, you'll find that he's really an ideal audience member, clapping excitedly at the end of every song. And he happens to know one, he'll go all puppy-eyed as he asks to join you. Starting then, he'll take every opportunity to make your songs a duet.

Lilia Vanrouge

The only one who manages to stay by the door for a whole song, with that hard-to-read smile of his reaching up to his eyes. He claps as you finish your song, chuckling and fondly commenting how he had no idea you were so talented. Might spook you if you're jumpy, and it'd make him laugh too, but not without an apology. Pranks aren't the focus now.

Lilia walks up to you, looking straight into your eyes as he speaks. Part of his surprise is that your talent managed to fly under his radar for so long, when he usually picks up on these things so easily. He did have a feeling you were the type to hide your true potential for whatever reason, sure, but that's still not even remotely close to learning this secret of yours.

Lilia already mentions he's assuming you don't want to attract too much attention, or be judged, before you even start to explain. He reassures with a soft voice that he won't be sharing it with anyone you don't want to share your voice with, and his interest is more in how you got into music in the first place. If you play any instruments, if you had any training...

You see a rare glint of awe in his eyes as he speaks, it's clear that just from these few minutes of showcasing your skill, he's gained plenty of artistic interest and respect for you. He's especially curious about whether you write your own music or not. Depending on your own approach to your work, he'll honestly offer to help you... for the price of getting to be the first to hear any new songs you make, of course, he'll say with a cheeky smile.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[andkisses]

♡ oh say it ditto | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: he confesses, and wants you to say it back

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 968 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff!  ♡ mentions of/warnings: none (this wasn’t proof read tho </3) ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from ditto by newjeans <3 ♡ a/n p2: this song is so sunghoon coded imo so if u see smth else get posted with him and this song 🙈 just know

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “like you a little, don’t want no riddle” 

he’s had all this time to think about it, and do know that jungwon is really putting his thoughts to it. he’s decided—he needs to confess, and as soon as possible, because he’s slowly becoming concerned it might be a health crisis. this feeling, the one that started out so small and chaste, has grown into something he can’t contain anymore. and the idea that he doesn’t know exactly what you think? the riddle of it all? that’s what’s the worst. imagine his relief, after he confesses so simply in the winter wind, as he watches your cheeks and the tips of your ears flush red, red, red. and his heart sparks with hope. imagine the surprise when you grin, overwhelmed, and place a sweet kiss to the apple of his own smiling cheeks. “me too.”

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “my feelings for you, like the memories we share, have grown so big” 

it started out so small, heeseung realizes thinking back on it. he liked your laugh, or your smile, or your fashion. then, suddenly, he found himself wanting to get to know you, not just see you from across a lecture hall. and now… this. the feelings that press against his chest, the ones that make it almost painful to see you because you don’t know. except, here in this stairwell after class, when he grabbed your wrist to catch you, you do know. the confession slips past his lips, almost desperate, and now heeseung is certain he will be sick. except, you take a step back up towards him, wrap your arms around his neck. and when he wraps his arms around your waist, the warmth that floods him tells heeseung he’s exactly where he needs to be.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “you smiled at me but do you think about me now?” 

uncertainty is not one of his favorite feelings, but jay deals with it for you. except, he’s not sure how much longer he can take this. he likes to think he knows things about people, knows how they tick. but you? maybe it’s the feelings that keep growing and growing inside, the way just hearing your voice down the hall or in the cafe makes him smile. but actually not knowing? it’s tearing him up inside, even if it’s masked by that beautiful smile. and now, here you are, standing at the corner of his desk after everyone has left. your fingertips on the corner, his gaze traveling up to your eyes, and the envelope in the other hand. the small, coy smile on your lips. “it’s hard saying things aloud, isn’t it?”

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “i had a long day, i miss you” 

scheduling difference don’t have to be this hard, jake thinks as he waits for you at the corner of where your two paths meet. it feels like it’s been forever since he’s seen you—not like he’s obliged to see you or anything. you two weren’t anything official or special, even if he wants so badly to be. maybe it’s thinking about what life would be like if he could call you mine that made the words slip out. “i miss you.” normal words, but the way he said it, and the way you respond, eyes wide and cheeks dusted with blush. “miss me how?” you ask, winter breeze blowing at your baby hairs. jake takes a step closer, choosing to listen to his heart’s wishes as you do the same. he laces his hand with yours, then brings your knuckles to his lips for a small, dainty kiss. your growing smile keeps him going. “miss… like this?”

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto” 

you make him nervous, sunghoon thinks, but the good kind. the kind that fills you with energy, like what you feel before a roller coaster. the hand that makes your fingers itch, wanting to be held by just one person. wanting to be held by you. this nervousness, he thinks, is what is motivating him, because he has surely never acted like this before let alone felt this much. he takes your hand on the walk back, a wash of seriousness pouring over his features. it’s too late to back out now, and you haven’t wrenched your hand away from his, so perhaps there’s a chance. “i like you,” he says, and he can feel the weights being lifted from his shoulders. “a lot. and i really, really want you to say it back.”

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “can’t wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto”

yes, the sun set a long while ago. yes, sunoo should be fast asleep. but how can he be when all he can think or wonder or ponder is you? more specifically, how do you feel? he can hedge a bet—how close you sit, how you laugh at his jokes, how you reach out for him in the hall. but it’s the not knowing that’s really keeping him awake. so, of course, he does something about it. phone in his hands, six simple words—i like you, say it back? and while he waits, he elects it’s the perfect time to ascribe shapes to the spots and shadows on the ceiling. and when you text back? yes, i like you too. meet me in 10? sunoo always thought the campus was more beautiful at night.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “do you want somebody? like i want somebody?”

the cafe is loud and quiet at the same time. niki is supposed to be studying, yet the pen in his hand feels like a heavy weight, and the words on the page in front of him no longer make sense regardless of how many times he tries to read. the one thing he knows for sure, though, is you sitting across from him, headphones on, pen scribbling and actually doing work. maybe it’s how loud the cafe is, or how short the distance across the table is to you. niki reaches out, taps on the side of your headphones, and once you look up and slide them off, he’s asking. “do you like someone?” your eyes grow wide, cheeks red, and he dares to be bolder, fingers tracing your cheek before: “and is it me?”