#shi desolate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

assriels · 10 months ago

Text

take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express.

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child.

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him.

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment.

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps.

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight.

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.”

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time.

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.”

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body.

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully.

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart.

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to.

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away.

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by.

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders.

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed.

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest.

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours.

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue.

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water.

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful.

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.)

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples.

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were.

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure.

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath.

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers.

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts.

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came.

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub.

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form.

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom.

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought.

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back.

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit.

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections.

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over.

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head.

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted.

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips.

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart.

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin.

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice.

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage.

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear.

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way.

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment.

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck.

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her.

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration.

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed.

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it.

967 notes · View notes

dianawinchester03 · 12 days ago

Text

Season 3, Episode 5 - Bedtime Stories

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Hi my beauties! Another late update but it’s better late than never. Work has been a pain in my ass, plus it’s carnival season in my country and that means school projects for my little cousins are piling in. Istg, those teachers basically make us do the projects and not them XD

Though I’m pushing through and taking every little chance I get to write, which is barely any hahaha. Hope everyone likes this one!

Warning: smut, p-in-v sex, oral (male receiving), teasing and angst if you squint really hard.

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Somewhere in the US

The Impala was casually driven down the desolate gravelly road with Dean Winchester behind the wheel. At this very moment, Sam and Y/N were going back and forth with Dean, trying to persuade him. “We don’t understand, Dean. Why not?” Sam argued as Y/N glared at her boyfriend. “Because I said so” Dean stated firmly, keeping his eyes glued on the road.

Sam huffed in annoyance at his brother’s response, looking over to Y/N for support. “We’ve got the Colt now” Y/N defended, leaning forward from the backseat. “Y/N…” Dean warned. “We can summon the crossroads demon-” Sam added, “We’re not summoning anything” Dean snapped back. “-pull the gun on her and force her to let you out!” Sam continued shouting.

“We don’t even know if that’ll work!” Dean argued back, “Well then we’ll just shoot her, if she dies then the deal goes away!” Y/N yelled, “We don’t know if that’ll work either, guys!” He cried out, he was tempted to throw them both out of the car. “All you’re pitching me right now is a bunch of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ and that’s not good enough because if we fuck with this deal then both of you die!!” Dean exploded.

He was beyond frustrated at his brother and girlfriend for how naive they are being right now. They were determined and stubborn about it but Dean wasn’t willing to listen to their ridiculous plan, the idea of risking their lives to save his was heart wrenching.

Y/N and Sam were both equally frustrated and angry with themselves at how stubborn Dean is being about his whole ‘no to summoning the crossroads demon’. Yet despite their irritation, they care and love for him more than anything and are desperate to get him out of his deal although feeling helpless.

“And if we don’t screw with it, you die!” Y/N retorted, the pain and anger clear in her tone. “Sam, Y/N, ENOUGH!” He bellowed loudly, slapping his steering wheel in frustration. “I’m not gonna have this conversation!!” Y/N clenched her jaw, tightening her grip around her locket. “Why, because you said so?!” She mocked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“YES BECAUSE I SAID SO”

“WELL YOU’RE NOT JOHN OR DAD!!”

He paused and gripped the steering wheel at her words, his whole body went rigid in the driver’s seat. Meanwhile, Sam froze. his jaw falling agape. Right now, he was wishing his seat would swallow him. “Excuse me?” Dean said stiffly. Y/N kept her gaze hard, knowing she had just stepped into uncharted territory, but she never shied from a challenge.

“You heard me” She stated firmly, holding her ground as she crossed her arms over her chest. His head snapped over into her direction, the two lovers holding a heated gaze in which both were not backing down from before he focused back onto the road. “No, but I am the oldest. And I’m doing what’s best!” Sam and Y/N sighed in frustration, rolling their eyes at Dean’s words. “But Dean-!“

“You’re gonna let this go, you understand me?” He interrupted Sam’s protest, his expression as serious as a heart attack, Sam held back a scoff as he nodded stiffly, not really having a choice in the matter. Dean then turned to Y/N, he shot her a stern look, his expression demanding in compliance, “Are we clear?” He stated firmly. Y/N gritted her teeth, raising a brow at him, “Excuse me?” she bit back bitterly.

He looked at her, her stubbornness getting on his last nerve. “I gave you an order!” he snapped. Her head flew up with shock, her heart dropped in her chest. She felt like she was 14 again, forced to listen to her father. Tears welled up in her eyes, staring back at him with disbelief as she practically shrunk into her seat. Sam’s eyes widened, the look on his face said ‘You did not just say that’.

The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them. He went bug-eyed wide when he saw how hurt his girlfriend’s features turned, the look in her eyes told him he messed up big time.

Y/N forced herself to close her mouth, swallowing harshly. She tore her gaze away from Dean, shutting down mentally and emotionally. It was uncommon for her to shut down, usually she’d snap back at her father after she grew a pair and started rebelling with Sam but hearing it come from Dean made her crumble. “Yes, sir” she muttered through a croaky voice and watery eyes.

Right there and then, his heart shattered into pieces at her soft reply, he had never made her use that word before, not even in a sexy way, usually it was reserved for their dads. Hearing her call him like that felt so wrong on so many levels. He never wanted her to ever be afraid of him, that was never his intention. He knew he really screwed up, at a loss for words, feeling guilty and ashamed.

Sam shifted his eyes over to Y/N, who was clutching at the book in her lap, biting her lip to stop her tears from flowing. His face dropped, a painful pang hitting in his own heart before he looked at his brother, glaring at him.

The brothers communicated with their eyes, ‘Apologize’ Sam’s face told him in Winchesterarian.

Dean met his gaze, an expression of helplessness and ‘I don’t know how to’ written on his face.

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he jerked his head toward Y/N, ‘Apologize. Now.’

He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head, telling him to just apologize to her. He could’ve been able to just do it until he dared to look at his girlfriend through the corner of his eye. Seeing her teary eyes that she was trying to mask over with a cold expression was the thing that had him feeling like he had been shot in the heart.

“Y/N...” He tried, softly, “Baby, look at me” Her nostrils flared at his desperate plea, further turning herself in the corner of the backseat behind Sam. She didn’t dare to look at him, cursing herself internally for getting so worked up. Why didn’t she just snap back? She’s usually good at that.

He swallowed hard, it felt like there was a lump in throat, his heart shattering even more the more he watched her refuse to look at him. “Please? Look at me” he begged lowly, reaching over to place her hand on her thigh. She remained silent, Sam’s gaze burning into the side of his brother’s head. The younger Winchester felt as though he was in the middle of the argument of the parents he never had.

The pain only increased at the action as she practically slapped his hand away, he skulked like a kicked puppy. He had to restrain himself from grabbing her and making her look at him.

“Tell him about the psychotic killer” She told the younger Winchester, her voice wavering as she leaned back into the seat, pulling her knees to her chest, not even bothering to take her off her black knee-high boots. Sam, on the other hand, was pissed at Dean.

‘What? I tried’ Dean responded in Winchesterarian, attempting to shrug nonchalantly. Sam shot him a nasty glare that said, ‘You can try harder, you jerk’ before he looked at Y/N, who was now hugging her knees against her chest, “The what?” Sam asked gently, turning around to face her.

“From the newspaper clipping inside the book” She answered, resting her chin on her knee. Sam nodded, furrowing his brows as he opened the book and started to read over the article. Dean let Sam go over all the case information, his eyes once again glued to his girlfriend’s form in the backseat. He really hated himself right now.

“Psychotic killer: Rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity.” Sam read off of the article, “Okay, any mention of his razor-sharp teeth or his 4-inch claws, animal eyes?” Dean joked half-heartedly, his question directed to Y/N. She simply shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the droplets of rain running down the window. Dean let out a puff of air. He wanted this conversation to be over so he could just hug her and take it all back.

“Sammy?” he turned to Sam who also shook his head. “But the lunar cycle’s right” Sam sighed, “Look, if it is a werewolf, we don’t have long. Moon’s full Friday and that’s the last time he changes for a month” He added urgent, his tone solemn. “Two days, no sweat.” Dean mumbled, glancing back at Y/N who now was in the middle of lighting a cigarette.

She took a deep puff of her cigarette before letting out a loud sigh, rolling down the window since the rain cleared up. Dean watched the glow of the butt between her fingers, her elbow resting on the window. Her emotions were at war with each other as she inhaled the nicotine.

On one hand, she was boiling with anger towards him but on the other, she longed to just forget about it and be held in his arms. She and Sam just wanted to help him, that’s all.

____________________________________________

Maple Springs, New York

“I’m Detective Plant, this is Detective Page and Lee” Dean introduced himself to the sole survivor of the ‘psychotic killer’ mauling, flashing him his fake badge along with Sam and Y/N before pointing to them. Sam and Dean used the last names of the frontmen of legendary English rock band Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. While Y/N used the last name of Evanescence’s lead singer, Amy Lee.

“We’re with the County Sheriff’s Department” He added as they all simultaneously opened their suit jackets, stuffing them into the inner pockets. Y/N wore a suit this round too, contrasting her usual blouse with a skirt.

“Yeah, uh, been expecting you” Kyle, the sole survivor, sighed from his hospital bed. He wore a blue hospital gown, along with stitches to the side of his face due to claw marks from the ‘psychotic killer’. “Yeah? You have?” Y/N asked, the trio shocked. “All morning. You are the sketch artists, right?”

“Um…” Sam hummed nervously, “Absolutely” Dean chimed in confidently, Y/N glanced over at him raising a brow before nodding along in confirmation. “That is actually who my partner is,” Dean smiled, pointing to Sam. Y/N caught his drift, when Dean nudged her, going along with it, “Oh, man. The things he can do with a pen” Her words caused Sam to panic.

Sam awkwardly chuckled before side-eying the two. “But, listen, before we get started on that, I wanted to ask you…uh, how'd you get away?” Dean asked as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. Kyle’s expression darkened at the question, he inhaled deeply to calm himself down before answering. “I- I have no idea. I was hiding…and he found me. He was coming right for me and then he just stopped”

Dean, Y/N and Sam exchanged looks with each other, all three wearing the same expression of confusion. Kyle’s breathing became labored as he reminisced, “Stared at me with this blank look. After that, he just took off running” Sam and Y/N looked at the man with pure sympathy, their hearts aching for him. His situation hit home since they related to his survivor's guilt.

“Okay…um” Sam cleared his throat, swallowing as he took out his notepad from his pocket. “I’m gonna need as much physical detail as you can remember” The younger Winchester flipped the pad open before clicking his pen. Dean and Y/N peered over his shoulder with amusement, eager to see what ‘drawing’ he was gonna come up with.

Kyle nodded before taking a moment to compose himself. “Uh..yeah. He was about six feet tall. Dark hair” He inhaled sharply. “Um..what about his eyes? What color eyes did he have?” Sam asked, lifting his pen. “Uh…blue? It was dark” Kyle answered, puzzled as Sam nodded. Dean shot Y/N an amused look, taking in how she was smiling at the panic Sam was in.

She glanced over at him, her smile faltering as they made eye contact before focusing back on Kyle. Dean’s face dropped along with his heart. “Did they seem…animalish?” She asked, “Excuse me?” Kyle’s brows furrowed. “What about his teeth? You notice anything strange about them?” Sam chimed in, scrambling to save his drawing that was turning out to be a complete disaster.

“No, they were just teeth” Kyle shook his head, his eyes squinted in confusion. “Teeth. Okay” Sam responded. “What about his fingernails?” Dean asked, “Look, he’s- he’s just a normal guy with normal eyes and teeth and fingernails” Kyle began to hyperventilate, Y/N immediately picked up on the tell-tale signs of a panic attack, having experienced them herself. “Sir, it’s okay, we’re just-” She tried to comfort him.

“No” Kyle became choked up, tears welling up in his eyes as he shook his head frantically. “No. Those were my brothers. This guy…he killed my brothers. The only family I had.” Sam and Y/N’s expression softened, their hearts breaking for the broken man on the hospital bed. Dean had his expression of pure pity as Kyle burst into tears, his shoulders shaking as sobs filled the room. “How would you feel?” He asked them.

He felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart at Kyle’s question as Y/N’s gaze dropped to the ground, biting at her lip to stop herself from becoming choked up also while the images of Sam dying flashed in her head. The two shared a sorrowful look before answering, “Can’t imagine anything worse” Sam replied, swallowing harshly as he imagined anything happening to Dean.

“Agreed” Y/N sighed in agreement, Dean’s gaze shifted over to the two, his expression filled with guilt and remorse. He took a deep breath, “Look, I know this isn’t easy but if you could remember any more details..” Dean said to Kyle gently. Kyle nodded through the sobs before he inhaled deeply, wiping the fresh tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got- I just” He began to apologize, “It’s okay, hun” Y/N reassured him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Just..go back to that night. You were at the construction site” Dean prompted him. Kyle thought for a second, “There was one more thing. He had a, uh…a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character” Kyle tried to remember. “It was the guy, who- He was chasing the Road Runner” He rubbed his head as Dean and Y/N’s faces lit up. “Wile E. Coyote” They answered in unison, pointing at him in recognition.

“Yeah, that’s it” Kyle confirmed, Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from screaming victory. "That’s the bastard,” Dean smirked. Sam looked at them almost impressed as he continued scribbling on the notepad. “Kyle?” A voice said from behind them, their heads turned to face Dr. Garrison. “Dr. Garrison” Kyle smiled sadly at the man. “How are you holding up?” The doctor asked his patient in concern.

“Okay, considering” Kyle sighed, “You’re, uh, Kyle’s doctor?” Dean asked, taking out his fake badge. “Yes,” Dr. Harrison raised a brow at them. “Can I just ask you a few questions?” He asked, gesturing for them to step outside. “Uh- Sure” The doctor nodded, his expression puzzled at the question.Dr. Garrison followed Dean outside into the hallway before he shut the door behind them as Sam and Y/N stayed with Kyle.

“Don’t I get to see it?” Kyle asked Sam, pointing to the sketch in his notepad. Sam’s eyes widened as he flipped open the sketchpad, Y/N peered over his shoulder again, covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the horrendous drawing. “Uh…yeah, yeah” Sam chuckled nervously, handing Kyle the pad. “It’s a, you know, work in progress” Kyle took the pad from him, his brows furrowing as he tried to make out the messy drawing. “It’s really..um-” Kyle responded confused, giving Sam a pitiful look.

The trio were now walking back to the Impala, Dean was cackling at the drawing in Sam’s pad as Y/N snickered into her palm. “Boy, this is a piece of art, really” Dean laughed as Y/N snickered into her hand. “Yeah, like you could’ve done any better” Sam rolled his eyes, snatching the pad away from Dean before smacking his brother in the back of the head with the pad. “Ow, hey!” Dean rubbed the back of his head before he continued snickering.

Y/N took the pad out of Sam’s hands, laughing harder at the drawing the longer she examined it, “I’m so framing this” Dean smiled at her laugh, enjoying seeing her laugh after the silence she’s been giving him. He chuckled at her comment, “No” Sam whined in protest, “It’s not that funny” He reached for the pad, but Y/N snatched it away, holding it out of his reach. “Oh, hell yeah it is” she shot back before sticking it in her pants. “But I-“

“Don’t even” she warned playfully, shutting him up. Sam pouted as she reached up, patting him on his head of hair before he turned to Dean. “What did the doc have to say about Kyle’s brothers?” He asked as he sighed in defeat. “Not much, they were DOA at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report” Dean replied, “Let me guess, their hearts were missing” Sam muttered as they continued to pace down the sidewalk.

“Nope, but chunks of their kidneys, lungs and intestines” Dean answered, Sam and Y/N grimaced in disgust and confusion. “Dude, that’s just gross” she mumbled, gagging, “Yeah, also definitely not werewolf behavior” He agreed, feeling a bloom of relief that she sorta spoke to him. Whether it was indirectly or not, he would take anything he got at this very moment from her. Hell, he’d take another slap if it means they’d kiss and make up.

“So, what? A demon? Attacker could’ve been possessed” Sam suggested, “Why would a demon stop halfway through an attack?” Y/N questioned, raising a brow. “I think that- uh…could it-. I got nothing” Sam stuttered, “Me neither” Dean agreed, nudging Y/N with his elbow. She looked up at him in acknowledgment, giving a nod before she sighed.

The hunter smiled back at his psychic as the trio finally approached the Impala and stood in a comfortable silence while Dean unlocked the door. That was quickly disturbed by Sam clearing his throat. They turned to face him, his arms crossed with a raised eyebrow. “Can you two at least talk to each other, or are you gonna ignore each other for the rest of the hunt?”

Y/N and Dean snapped their heads together, meeting each other's eyes for a split second before looking away. Y/N avoided looking at Dean altogether while he shot a warning look at Sam. “Shut up, Sammy” The couple snapped in unison before simultaneously opening their doors, Dean opening the drivers side and Y/N opening the passenger’s side, both climbing in.

Sam sighed, his hands dropping to his sides but a small, smug smirk formed on his lips as he opened the back door and settled into the back seat. Y/N crossed her arms as she stared out the window while Dean sighed, starting the car, his eyes shifting over to her every so often. The silence immediately fell over the car like a thick sheet, and tension was radiating off in waves from the front of the car.

Sam groaned to himself as he sunk into the seat, knowing it’d be another 15 minutes of unbearable atmosphere until they got to the motel room and then another however long this fight was gonna last until they made up.

____________________________________________

The evening was now setting in. Dean went out to get dinner for everyone while Y/N stayed back in their motel room and Sam stayed in his separate one. Now, she was on a phone call with Jo, rambling on about her argument with Dean.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Jo” Y/N sighed heavily through the phone as she laid on her side, staring up at the ceiling. “I know you’re both stubborn as hell, but you’re gonna have to talk to him. This can’t go on forever” Jo responded with a calm, stern tone. Y/N groaned, burying her head into one of the pillows.

“I want to but I can’t!” She exclaimed defensively. “Everytime I look at him now, all I see is dad and it’s so fucking-….UGH!” She screamed into the pillow, her words muffled along with her string of curses and shouts. “Hey- hey” Jo replied with a comforting tone. “I know, the whole ‘Daddy issues’ thing is a huge trigger. But this is Dean, he’s not John or your dad” There was a soft yet stern tone to her words, trying to talk some sense into her friend.

“I do not have daddy issues” Y/N scoffed, pulling her head out of the pillow to prop herself against the bed frame. Jo scoffed right back. “You so do and so does Dean. Hell, all four of us do” Jo responded bluntly, “You have major, unresolved trauma that stems from your dad. You and I both know it” She said gently. Y/N inhaled deeply, biting at her lip. Y/N knew she was right. The two of them had had similar conversations a thousand times before.

“I hate you, sometimes” Y/N bit back, running a hand against her forehead. “No, you love me” Jo chuckled, her laughter brightening the mood. Y/N smiled, rolling her eyes even though she knew the girl couldn’t see her, “Just…talk to him. Yell at him, smack him, whatever, I don’t care. Just end this stupid fight you two are having” Jo continued, growing serious once more.

Y/N chuckled bitterly to herself, the irony of the situation kicking in. “Who knew, our first fight is somehow our dads faults” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, go figure” Jo muttered, “Listen- I gotta go, Sam’s calling me. But you promise me, Y/N. That you’ll talk to him” Jo told her softly but firmly. Y/N nodded even though she knew Jo couldn’t see her. “Yeah, yeah. I will” She finally caved.

“Good, cause I don’t want to be your guys’ relationship counselor” They shared a soft laugh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?” Y/N joked. “Cause I’m awesome and you love me” Jo deadpanned before both girls burst into laughter, “Alright, love you, be safe” the younger huntress sent a kiss through the phone. “Love you too” Y/N replied with a bittersweet laugh, “Bye”

She hung up and laid it on the bedside table next to her, her smile falling almost immediately. She could still hear Jo’s words playing in her head, echoing through her mind as she groaned loudly. She sighed as she flopped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Jo was right, she needed to talk to Dean. She couldn’t let this go on any longer.

Meanwhile, Dean strolled down the halls of the motel. His left hand was loaded with two bags, one bag containing his and Y/N’s dinner and the other with Sam’s. While his right hand held a bouquet of Y/N’s favorite flowers and a bag with her favorite snacks, a carton of her favorite cigarettes and a chocolate chip cookie bigger than his head, you’d swear it was a cake.

He came to a stop in front of Sam’s door, tucking the flowers under his arm gently, ensuring he didn’t crush the delicate fresh petals. He brought his free hand, pounding it against the hardwood.

Sam was sitting at the desk inside, his phone to his ear, his head propped up on his other fist while a coy smile played on his face. “Mmm, I think I’d like th-” His attention immediately turned to the door at the knock, jumping in his seat. “Shit- Hold on baby, I think Dean’s back” He told Jo quickly over the phone, placing it down on the table before standing up to make his way over to the door.

He raised an eyebrow as a smirk appeared on his face as he swung the door open, glancing between the bags and bouquet that was tucked under his brother’s arm. “Trying to butter her up?” Sam snickered as Dean rolled his eyes, pushing past Sam and into the room. “Oh shut up” He muttered, putting the bag with his little brother’s dinner down on the desk. Sam’s eyes flicked to the enormous cookie and cigarettes.

“Dude, it’s like the size of my head” Sam chuckled, moving to open it. “Hands off, it’s not for you” Dean quickly snatched it back, giving a stern look. Sam snickered, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, I got you a salad like a healthy person” He rolled his eyes, “Fucking rabbit food” he muttered. “I’d rather eat ‘rabbit food’ than have a heart attack before I’m thirty” Sam fired back as he sat back down by the desk.

“Whatever, bitch.” Dean scoffed, flipping Sam off over his shoulder as he walked back out of the room. Sam chuckled once more as he shut the door behind him, turning the lock before heading back to his seat in front of his laptop, picking his phone back up off the table. “I’m back” He finally spoke into the phone once he settled. “And you were gone for too long,” Jo replied with a playful tone.

As Dean made his way back to their room, he inhaled deeply. She was probably still pissed at him, and rightfully so. She was also stubborn though, and she’d probably just continue to stonewall him until he properly apologized or she blew up.

He paused, looking down at the gifts in his hands as he reached the door to their room. Maybe a peace offering will do the trick? He sighed to himself as he took out the key to the room.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, unlocking the door cautiously and carefully opening it. He found her laying on the bed, her back facing the door. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, but he knew she wasn’t going to be in a good mood by the way her shoulders seemed to be tense.

He shut the door carefully behind him, setting the bags with the food on the table before he slowly approached the bed, hiding the flowers in one hand and the bag with the cookie and cigarettes behind his back. He sighed once more and softly cleared his throat.

“Princess?” He called out quietly before pausing, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or ignore him completely. When she didn’t respond, he moved to stand next to the side of the bed, watching her for a moment. Despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, he could still tell she was definitely pissed. Hell, she was radiating it.

But her heart softened at the desperate tone in his voice, her eyes meeting his. Y/N pushed herself up from the bed, staring at Dean intensely as he kept the gifts hidden behind his back. Now that he had her attention, he hesitated for a moment before bringing the gifts into her vision.

“I, um, I got you a little something” He spoke cautiously as he held them out for her. He gave a small smile, an olive branch if you will. He looked hopeful, like a lost puppy, as he held up the bag that held the ridiculously huge cookie inside, cigarettes and then the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you…” He murmured.

Y/N looked from the gifts then back to Dean, she raised an eyebrow gently as her gaze shifted from his hand back to his face. She was surprised, to say the least, “Are you trying to butter me up?” Y/N repeated Sam’s words, her voice firm but not sharp, “You think you can just buy your way out with cookies and cigarettes?” She asked bluntly, not letting him off the hook so easily.

“No I-“ He exhaled, sighing. He shook his head, dropping the bag and the flowers on the nightstand. He ran his free hand over his mouth nervously, taking a second to gather his words. This was no time for cute sarcasm and corny jokes. He had to choose his words wisely.

“No, I don’t” He replied honestly, his face going serious. “I just- I just wanted to get you some of your favourites. I wasn’t trying to buy forgiveness” He responded softly. “I just...I just wanted to show that I don’t wanna keep being cold to each other…I’m sorry” He apologized genuinely yet simply, which was hard for him since he wasn’t good at it. “Please just…let me in, princess…I’m beggin’ you”

She felt her resolve falter at his words and his tone, how open and vulnerable he was being. She hated that he knew just what to do and what to say to melt her into a puddle. Damn him.

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping as she shook her head slightly at herself for how quickly he could get to her. “Asshat” She muttered, her words lacking any venom behind them. He let out a soft huff of a laugh, a small grin forming on his lips, “Nutcase” He playfully shot back.

His body relaxed since he was slowly but surely making his way through the wall she’s built up around herself. He took a deep breath, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He shifted his body so he was facing her. He set the cookies down beside her on the bed before reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Hey, look at me” He murmured.

She inhaled and exhaled a few times, refusing to give in. “Baby, c’mon, look at me” He pleaded again, his tone serious now. After a couple moments she finally broke, letting out a defeated huff before her eyes moved to meet his own. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this apologizing stuff. I ain’t no Shakespeare but I really am sorry. I should’ve never said that, I’m not dad and I’m certainly not your father” He emphasized on the ‘never’.

If her heart wasn’t pounding in her chest and melting at his words, she would’ve let out a light laugh. Of course this is when he actually starts to do the right thing and take things seriously.

She let out a sigh, crossing her arms in front of her. “No, you’re not them” She agreed with a huff before her expression softened slightly, “But…you still hurt me, y’know” She told him slowly, trying to word her thoughts without coming off too confrontational.

“I just-“ Tears pricked at her eyes again, she forced herself to swallow them, deferring her gaze to her hands. “I just don’t want to see you go” She whispered, he felt his heart drop to his feet at that. The tone of her voice made it worse.

He shuffled to sit right next to her now, resting his hand on her knee, “C’mere” He murmured, pulling her over into his lap. Once she was settled he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to his body. He pressed his forehead against the side of her neck, “I’m sorry” He apologized once more, “I just couldn’t live without you”

Her head shot up, “And now I’m supposed to live without you?” She scoffed, pulling herself off of his lap. “Sam is supposed to live without you?!” Her voice raised. He couldn’t find a response. Part of him wanted to be selfish and say yes, but he knew it was wrong. Sam had already lost their dad, losing him would break him, but Dean didn’t realize that.

“Y/N-“ He started to protest, only for her to cut him off. “Why?” She questioned firmly, crossing her arms in front of her, “Why is it okay for you to die in months, huh?” She shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s not fair, Dean! We can help you!”

He rose from the bed, his jaw clenched, “We’ve been through this already” He told her in a stern tone. She let out a scoff through her nose, “Well I’m sorry for having a hard time swallowing the fact my boyfriend is going to die, just a little” She shot back sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed at her, “You think it’s easy for me?!” He huffed, his own frustration bubbling up. She rolled her eyes, matching his irritation as her arms fell by her sides. “No, actually, I don’t think it’s easy for you! But you’re acting like if you’re okay when clearly you’re not! You’re acting like if going to hell is just a trip to the fucking supermarket!”

She had a point. She was calling him out for his defense mechanism. But he hated how she was making him face how afraid he really was. “And what am I supposed to do, Y/N?!” He raised his voice, “Am I just supposed to walk around being a pansy ass cry baby?!” He snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. “No, you’re supposed to let us help you!”

“Damn it, Y/N, I’m trying to protect you!” He barked out, his expression hardening. “I am the oldest, I know what’s best for everyone else!” He yelled, taking a step toward her. “Is that an order?” She challenged, clenching her jaw. She threw his words straight back in his face and boy, did it hurt like a motherfucker.

They were toe to toe, his expression now soft. She simply raised her chin defiantly, refusing to back down. He bit the inside of his cheek as his nostrils flared, “No, no it’s not.” His head dropped. He took a moment before raising his head back up to just look at her, realizing she wasn’t just mad. She was scared. Terrified of losing him, as he was with her. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.

“I’m scared” he admitted softly, his voice cracking slightly, “I’m fucking terrified of what’s gonna happen” His shoulders slumped, no longer trying to mask his vulnerability as he brought a hand up to cup her face.

She stared up at him, her eyes locked on his. Shock glazed through her eyes at the fact that he just confessed. “It’s not fair” She repeated quietly, dropping the defiant tone as she reached out to lay a hand on his chest. “None of it’s fair”. Her voice and touch were now gentle, it was like a switch had gone off. Their argument now over, now replaced by a raw, vulnerable moment.

“No, sweetheart, it ain’t” he agreed with a sigh. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to control himself. He was trying his hardest not to cry in front of her. He swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat as he moved his hand from her cheek to hold her hand, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he spoke softly, his voice cracking as he held her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Her eyes softened at the sight of him breaking his wall down. She felt her heart clench in her chest as he held her hand tightly in his grip like a lifeline. She knew he was trying to keep his emotions in check, to keep up his tough exterior, she knew him all too well.

She didn’t want to be fighting with him, she wanted to be holding him close, comforting him. So she snaked her arms around him, pulling him into her. Dean instantly buried his face in Y/N’s neck, finding comfort.

His body relaxed, sinking into her warm embrace. His face pressed into her shoulder, his breath tickling her neck gently. He inhaled her scent, grounding himself. He felt safe in her arms. Just the feel of her against him, the familiar coconut and tobacco scent filling his nostrils, it was enough to soothe his racing heart and the anxiety that loomed over him.

His tears began to fall freely, letting out gentle choked sobs into her neck. It tore her apart limb from limb to hear Dean’s muffled sobs, her arms tightening around him as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you”

She held him close, running a hand up and down his back in a soothing motion. Her eyes shut as she gently pressed her lips to the side of his head. Dean slowly peeled himself out from her neck, his eyes trained on her lips as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek, wiping a stray tear away with her thumb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he closed the remaining distance between them, gently connecting their lips. With one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her waist, he kissed her with a desperate need and tenderness.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in the short locks of his hair as she deepened the kiss, letting her own emotions and desire show through her actions. The taste of Dean’s salty tears coated her tongue but she didn’t care, she wanted to make him feel better. Their kiss was filled with a mix of passion and desperation, eliciting a light moan from her lips.

The moan was what did it for him. In a swift motion he picked her up. Y/N gasped from the sudden shift as he hoisted her with ease, her thighs residing on either side of his hips. His lips returned to hers. He walked backward until he lowered himself onto the bed, leaving Y/N straddling him.

He laid back on the mattress, his strong arms wrapping around Y/N's waist, pulling her closer. His hands roamed her back, tracing the curves of her spine before settling on her hips. He nipped at her bottom lip playfully, then soothed the sting with his tongue, deepening the kiss further.

Breaking away for a moment, he gazed up at her with heated eyes, "I need you" His voice was husky with desire. He nuzzled his nose against hers, breathing in her scent deeply before capturing her mouth once more in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her curves, squeezing and caressing every inch he could reach.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, he looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, "Make love to me, baby" he breathed, his voice low and pleading. Y/N shivered at his words, her core clenching with need. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest as she captured his lips in another passionate kiss. Her hands pushed off his leather jacket along with his flannel, eager to feel his skin against hers.

Breaking the kiss, she sat up and pulled his shirt open, revealing his chiseled torso. She ran her hands over his pecs, feeling the defined muscles beneath. "I need you too," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over his skin. She leaned down, her lips trailing kisses along his collarbone, her hands sliding lower to unbutton his pants.

As she worked to free him, she looked up at him through her lashes, her (e/c) eyes smoldering with lust. "Tell me what you want…tell me why you need” Dean groaned under her ministrations, his head falling back against the pillow as her lips trailed fire across his skin. His hands gripped her hips tighter, urging her on as she worked to free him from his jeans.

He panted heavily, his voice strained with desire when he finally managed to form words. "Stop being a fuckin’ tease, y/n/n." He hissed. His hips bucked slightly, seeking friction against her palm as she finally freed his straining erection.

Dean's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her lower her head towards his aching cock. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up slightly, seeking the contact he craved so desperately. When her warm, wet tongue made contact with the tip of his cock, he let out a guttural groan, his grip on her hair tightening. "Oh, shit...just like that," he praised, his voice rough with pleasure.

He rocked his hips in time with her movements, pushing deeper into her mouth with each stroke. The sensation of her lips and tongue working together was almost too much to bear, and he knew he wouldn't last long if she kept this up. "Baby, you're killing me here," he warned, his words coming out in ragged pants. "If you don't stop, I'm gonna cum right down your throat." He sounded utterly pathetic, and she loved it.

Dean's words sent a thrill through Y/N, knowing she had him right where she wanted him, on the edge and desperate for release. She doubled her efforts, taking him deeper into her mouth with each bob of her head. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from his tip.

"Mmmph," she hummed around his length, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. Her free hand slid down to cup his balls, gently rolling them in her palm. Dean threw his head back, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he fought to maintain control. Suddenly, she drew back, licking her lips as she peeled herself off of him.

Dean's hips jerked upwards, seeking her warmth as she released him from her mouth with a pop. He was left panting, his chest heaving with exertion as he stared down at her, his eyes wild with lust. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and desperation.

Her eyes flashed with a mischievous glint as she began deliberately stripping slowly, taking her sweet time. Y/N bit her lower lip, savoring the anticipation building between them as she teased him mercilessly. She took her time removing each article of clothing, letting the fabric slide sensually over her curves. First went her top, revealing the bra that barely contained her breasts. Next came her pants, pooling around her ankles to expose the lace panties that hugged her hips.

Her hands moved to the clasp of her bra, but instead of releasing it, she simply toyed with the mechanism, keeping herself just out of reach. She leaned in close, her breath hot against Dean's ear as she whispered, "You want these off? You gotta earn it, big boy."

With that, she straightened up and turned around, presenting her backside to him. She bent over slightly, giving him an enticing view of her ass clad in the delicate lace. Dean’s eyes instantly zoomed in on her anti possession sigil tramp stamp, his hand finding its way around his cock as she ran her thumbs along the edge of her panties.

Dean's gaze locked onto the tantalizing sight of her ass, his eyes drinking in every curve and dip, every perfect imperfection. He could see the intricate design of her tattoo, a constant reminder of the powerful woman he loved. His cock throbbed in his hand, pre-cum leaking from the tip as he imagined burying himself deep inside her.

He slowly began pumping himself, his lips parted while she pushed down her panties, finally allowing it to pool at her feet. Y/N stepped out of her discarded clothes, now fully nude from the waist down before Dean's hungry gaze. She turned around to meet his eyes, snatching his hand away from his cock, stopping his self pleasuring.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as Y/N abruptly stopped his hand mid-stroke. He let out a soft whine as she removed his hand from his throbbing erection, his body craving her touch. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his voice low and needy. "Please, baby..."

He tried to pull her closer, desperate to feel her bare skin against his own. But she held him at arm's length, a coy smile playing on her lips as she admired his state of arousal. "Patience, charming," she cooed before attaching her lips to his against, straddling him once more. In a swift motion, she grounded her wetness against him, eliciting a soft moan from herself.

As their tongues danced, she ground her hips against his hard length, coating him in her slick arousal. Dean's hands roamed her back, squeezing her ass as he pulled her flush against him, desperate for more contact.

Y/N broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she gazed down at him with hooded eyes. "Please” he whined. She smirked in response, heeding to his pleas as she reached between them, positioning his tip at her entrance before slowly sinking down, enveloping him in her tight heat inch by delicious inch until they were fully joined. They both let out a gasp at the exquisite sensation, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

Y/N began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Dean's head fell back against the pillows as she sank down onto him, his eyes fluttering shut at the incredible feeling of being buried deep within her warmth. He could feel every inch of her, her walls gripping him tightly as she started to move.

"Oh, fuck yes..." he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she rode him. He couldn't get enough, his hips bucking up to meet her downward strokes, driving himself even deeper inside her.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, a sensual dance of pleasure and passion. Dean's mind went blank, focused solely on the feeling of Y/N above him, her breasts bouncing with each roll of her hips, her moans filling the room.

He reached up to cup one of her breasts, thumbing over the hardened nipple as he pulled her down to capture her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled, devouring each other. Y/N felt Dean's fingers dig into her hips, urging her on as she continued to ride him with increasing fervor. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breathing and moans of pleasure.

She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she gazed down at Dean with lust-filled eyes. "You like that, baby?" she purred, grinding her clit against him with each downward stroke. "Tell me how good I feel..." Dean's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she rode him harder, her inner muscles clenching around his cock with each grind of her hips.

“Fuck, yeah," he gritted out, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel amazing, baby. So fucking tight and wet..." His hands slid down to grab her ass, kneading the firm flesh as he helped guide her movements. "Take what you need, princess. Use my cock however you want."

Dean's hips snapped up to meet hers, driving himself impossibly deeper as he chased his impending climax. "I'm getting close," he warned, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. "Don't stop, please..."

Y/N's pace became frantic, her nails digging into Dean's shoulders as she chased her own release. "Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted, her voice rising in pitch as she neared the edge. In a sudden motion, Dean tilted her to the side, flipping them over so that Y/N was pinned beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to thrust into her.

The change in angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot deep inside her with each stroke, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of them. Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bed as Dean's new position sent her hurtling towards climax. Her legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass as she urged him on. "Right there, Dean! Don't stop!"

With a feral growl, Dean pounded into her, driven by the urgent need to make her come apart beneath him. He could feel her walls starting to flutter, signaling her impending orgasm. He reached between them, using his middle and ring finger to tease her clit. "That's it, let go for me," he rasped, his own release looming on the horizon.

Y/N's entire body tensed, the added friction provided by Dean’s fingers sending jolts of ecstasy through her veins. With a wail, she shattered, her pussy clamping down on his cock like a vice as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Her eyes flashed white for a brief moment before returning to normal, her vision blurring from the intensity of her climax. "Dean!" she screamed, her nails raking down his back as she rode out the aftershocks.

Dean threw his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as Y/N's spasming walls triggered his own explosive release. He pumped into her frantically, burying himself to the hilt as jet after jet of hot cum flooded her pussy. "Fuck, Y/N!" he bellowed, his body trembling with the force of his release. He collapsed on top of her, still twitching inside her as they both struggled to catch their breaths.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Dean, holding him close as they both came down from their intense high. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. "Mmm, I love you," she murmured, a satisfied smile curving her lips. After a moment, she carefully unwrapped her legs from around his waist, allowing him to slip free from her still-quivering pussy. She watched as a trickle of their combined fluids seeped out, trickling down her creases.

“We should clean up," she said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Dean lifted his head, meeting Y/N's gaze with a tender smile of his own. "I love you more, baby," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He carefully extracted himself from her body, groaning slightly at the loss of their intimate connection. Rolling to the side, he sat up and stretched, his muscles still humming with satisfaction.

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers so she sat up with him. "But first... I think we've earned a little cuddle time." He tugged her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he nestled her against his side.

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to Dean's warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his skin under her touch. Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to Dean's warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest as he threw the blanket over them, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Her fingers traced idle patterns on his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his skin under her touch. Her eyes glanced over to food he brought early that was resting on the table and the large cookie on the nightstand. “So….about that food…”

____________________________________________

The next morning, the trio found themselves at the hospital again after finding out about another attack, one casualty and one survivor. They were decked out again in their suits and ties, pacing down the halls. The brothers walked side by side to Y/N. Her eye caught wind of a few deputies, yanking them both to the receptionist desk.

The brothers stumbled slightly at the abrupt force but composed themselves quickly, turning to conceal themselves. They were now casually leaning on the desk as the deputies walked by. Once the police were out of sight, they exchanged nods before proceeding back to the hospital room of the victim, Julie Watson. Sam kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure the cops didn’t suspect them.

Once they found the room, they came upon Dr. Garrison trying to aid a hysterical Julie, the blonde woman sobbing and pleading to leave. “Please, please” Julie pleaded, “Hey, shh, shh. We need to observe you. The drugs may be in your system” Dr. Garrison said gently, his hands on her shoulder.

The brothers shared a look as they watched the woman sobbing, Sam felt an instant pang in his heart for the woman. His first instinct was to approach her but Y/N held up a hand, telling him to stay back, a deep frown of pity on her face towards the grieving and traumatized woman. “I have to go, I have things to do. Arrangements I need to make”

“It can wait. Now you need to rest” Dr. Garrison insisted calmly. “Stay. I’ll be back in a few minutes” He advised her, turning to walk out of the room. His eyes connected with Y/N’s, a deep sigh escaping him. “Detectives” Dr. Garrison greeted the trio as he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket. “Dr. Garrison” Dean greeted back, his eyes shifting between the doctor and his patient. “What the hell’s going on here? My whole town’s going insane”

Dr. Garrison shook his head, his shoulders slumped forward, the exhaustion evident on his features. “We’ll let you know as soon as we do” Y/N replied kindly, offering the man a small tight smile. Her sympathy towards the doctor was clear as she responded, and Dr. Garrison returned a tired smile, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m afraid my patient is becoming difficult. Can you help me talk to her please? Maybe as a female figure, she might respond to you”

“Course, anything to help” Y/N nodded firmly, Dr. Garrison seemed grateful before wordlessly stepping out of the room. Y/N and the boys then stepped in, cautiously approaching the distraught woman. Julie was trembling and looked like she was fighting a losing battle with her own emotions. She sniffled and wiped her tear-streaked face as she saw the three approach her. “Mrs. Watson? Hi” Dean greeted her, reaching into his jacket along with Sam and Y/N to pull out their badges.

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” He added. “Do we have to go over this again? Now?” Julie hiccupped. The brothers nodded, putting their badges away. “We’ll try to be brief” Sam assured her gently as Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, taking a hold of Julie’s hand in hers, while the boys remained standing behind her. “Mrs. Watson, can you tell us how you got away?”

Julie’s bottom lip quivered even more as fresh tears gathered in her eyes, “l didn’t eat as much as KEN did so I wasn’t as out of it” She began, letting out a shaky sigh as she looked from one hunter to the other. “And when the old woman was…” She hiccuped, glancing down at her hand in Y/N’s, her grip tightening around the psychic’s hand.

Y/N’s hand rubbed soothingly over her hand, her own heart clenching in her chest. “It’s okay, honey. Take your time.” Y/N urged her softly, Julie shut her eyes tightly, sucking in a deep breath as she tried to compose herself. “When the old woman was what?” Y/N prompted gently, placing a hand over Julie’s that was gripping her own.

“..when she was carving up Ken, I shoved her and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove” Julie finally forced out, another sob leaving her chest. The brothers exchanged a solemn look, Dean’s jaw clenched. “She’s dead, right? I killed her?”

They all exchanged solemn looks, Y/N turning to the Winchesters before nodding in confirmation to Julie’s question. “Do you have any idea why she would do this to you?” Dean questioned gently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Julie shook her head frantically, her fingers digging into Y/N’s hand, “No. One minute, she’s just a sweet old lady and the next, she was like a monster” Dean furrowed his brow along with Y/N at Julie’s story.

“Can you remember anything else?” Sam butted in. “Um..yeah” Julie glanced down at her and Y/N’s hands again, sniffling. “Did you find a little girl there by any chance?” She asked them. “A little girl? At the house” Sam asked, looking between Dean and Y/N. They shared an equally confused expression, wondering where this was going.

“I thought I saw her outside the window. She- she just disappeared. Just..vanished into thin air” Julie informed them, taking her hand off of Y/N’s so she can wipe her nose. “Must’ve been the drugs” Y/N’s furrowed her brows at Julie’s words, her gaze flickered behind her, between the boys. They were all thinking the same thing. A spirit. A vengeful one.

“This disappearing girl, what did she look like?” Dean questioned. “Does it matter?” Julie asked. “Yes, every detail matters” Y/N insisted, nodding. Julie sighed before thinking back, “Um…she had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around 8” She made eye contact with Y/N, “She was a beautiful child. It was…of to see her in the middle of something so horrible” Julie began to sob into her hands again.

The trio shared another look, something akin to a plan forming in their minds. “Thank you for your time, Ma’am” Sam nodded to her kindly before looking towards Dean and Y/N to follow him out of the room, the three gathered in the hallway right outside.

____________________________________________

Now at the scene of the crime, they all changed out of their suits, in their usual outfits now. Sam scanned the house with the EMF meter while Y/N trailed her hands along the edge of a window still, a gaping hollow feeling filling her body. “Well, there’s no sulfur anywhere. How about the EMF?” Dean asked Sam from the kitchen. “There’s definitely some, but it’s faint” Sam answered.

Dean entered the room, his eyes roaming around, noting nothing suspicious at first sight. “Bring it over here” Y/N gestured with her hand, opening her eyes as she opened at the window still. Sam approached her, holding the EMF meter right next to the window. The meter began to screech loudly, beeping more rapid and frantic, the meter confirming the presence of a spirit. Dean chuckled to himself, “Gotta love that ESP” He smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows at Y/N.

She scowled playfully in return as Sam snickered, flipping them both off. "Eat a rag" she quipped before shutting her eyes again, trying to see if she could connect to anything. The brothers watch her, waiting for her to communicate with the spirit. But Y/N's face scrunched up, a frustrated sigh leaving her. "I can see her, I can get glimpses." She said, her eyes opening up again.

"Not enough to connect and get information?" Sam inquired. Y/N shook her head, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. “It’s most intense by the window, there was definitely a spirit here” She confirmed, pushing herself up to her feet before dusting her hands off. “So we’ve got the spirit of a little girl who stood outside the crime scene and watched?” Dean commented, Sam and Y/N shrugged in return, “Looks like” Sam said as he shut the EMF meter off.

“What the fuck do you make of that?” Dean asked, Sam and Y/N shared a look, having had a conversation about the crimes when Dean was taking forever in the bathroom at the motel. “Actually, we do have a theory. Uh- sorta” Sam responded as he rubbed the back of his neck. Dean’s brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "Hit me" He was intrigued, arms crossing his chests as he rocked back on his heels. “Well, we’re thinking about fairytales” Y/N began.

Dean’s head shot up, “Oh, that’s- That’s nice” Dean snorted, placing his hands on his hips. “You two think about fairytales all the time?” He teased them. “No, charming, not like that” Y/N sighed, Sam rolling his eyes at Dean, he knew his brother would not make the case easier. “Dean, we’re talking about the murders” Sam answered for her, taking over.

“A guy and a girl hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat ‘em. That’s Hansel and Gretel. And then we got three brothers arguing over how to build houses and then attacked by the big bad wolf” Sam explained as he picked up his jacket from the couch. Dean’s face took a moment to process these words Sam had just spoken before the realization dawned on him, “Three little pigs?”

“Yeah” Y/N nodded as she put on her own jacket after taking it from Dean’s extended hand. “Actually, those guys were a little chubby,” Dean commented with amusement. “Not the point, smartass” Y/N playfully flicked the bottom of his chin in retaliation to his sass. Dean smirked mischievously, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sam’s eyes flickered between them, shaking his head. “Oh, wait. I thought those things ended with everybody living happily ever after?” Dean asked as he padded over to the window still, peeling the curtain back slightly. "No, no, not the originals" Y/N corrected him as she too headed to the table, picking up Dean’s duffel bag to sling it over her shoulder, Sam nodded in agreement as he pulled his phone out from his pocket after it vibrated.

“See, the Grimm brothers’ stuff was kind of like folklore of its day. Full of sex, violence, cannibalism” She explained. "Yeah, and then it got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories” Sam chimed in as he responded to his girlfriend's text message before stuffing the phone into his pocket and stuffing his jacket on. Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, letting the curtain fall back into place turning around to face them once again.

“So you think the murders are, uh, what’s a reenactment? That’s a little crazy” Dean said, tilting his head at them as Y/N placed her foot up on the table to tie her laces. “Crazy as what? Everyday of our lives?” Y/N shot back, Sam snorted in agreement. Dean chuckled lightly and shook his head at them. "Touché" he conceded. "How’s a creepy ghost girl involved?" He voiced his thoughts aloud.

Sam frowned as he zipped his bag up on the table, “Um, well, she must’ve been here for a reason. I’m willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too” he said, Dean internally groaned, looking between his brother and girlfriend. “We gotta do research now, don’t we?” Y/N looked up from tying her shoelace to playfully smirk at Dean.

“You say that like it's a bad thing" she teased, Sam holding back his chuckle, earning a glare from Dean. “Nerds,” Dean scoffed, taking the duffel bag from her as she placed her foot back onto the ground. Y/N rolled her eyes at Dean's comment, her hands finding her hips. "Excuse me, who's been reading romance novels all week?” She shot back, Sam bursted out laughing at the revelation.

Dean pointed a finger at her, a mixture of amusement and annoyance on his face. "That is a low blow" he defended weakly with a grumble, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Sam continued to laugh. “Burn!” The younger Winchester exclaimed between laughs, lifting his hand up to high-five Y/N.

Y/N gladly high-fived Sam, both of them chuckling at Dean's expense as he grabbed his keys, glaring at the pair but there was no real heat behind it. "Yeah, yeah, it up, chuckleheads” he grumbled, Y/N playfully pouted as she wrapped her arm around her boyfriend’s waist, the three now leaving the crime scene.

Hours later, Dean shoved the door open to the Cumberland County Central Library as Sam and Y/N waited outside. Upon seeing him, they both perked up. “So?” They asked expectantly in unison as Y/N flicked her burnt out cigarette bud into the trash can. “Checked every record they had. Found the usual amount of violent childhood deaths for a town this size” He began, the two trailing behind him.

“Okay” Y/N mumbled, stuffing her hands into her leather jacket’s pocket. “Know how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin?” Sam and Y/N recognized that tone, “Zero” They answered in unison as Dean nodded in confirmation. “You wanna know how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing? -Right again: Zip, zilch, nada”

Sam and Y/N shared a look, a bit discouraged at that piece of information. "Tell me you’ve got something good because I’ve totally wasted the last six hours” Dean complained as they walked across the street and into a woodsy area. “Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s” Y/N asked him. “She got a thing for fairytales?”

They chuckled in amusement, “No, trances” Sam informed him, “See, she would go into these unconscious states where, um. Get this: her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits” He explained, “The ghost Puppet Master” Dean pursed his lips, “Yeah” Y/N nodded, “Think that’s what this kid is doing? Sending Wolfboy and Grandma into trances, making them go kill crazy?”

“Could be” Sam shrugged, “It could be kind of like a spirit hypnosis or something” Y/N suggested, all continuing down the trail. “Look, trances I get, but fairy-tale trances? That’s bizarre even for us” Dean shook his head. They all came to a halt in their steps when they heard a frog croaking, their heads simultaneously lowering to the ground to see a toad.

Dean scrunched his nose at the sight of the little creature, the toad ribbitted loudly at him. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s completely normal.” Sam deadpanned with sarcasm, as Y/N shot Dean the classic Winchester bitchface in her own form, her hands resting in her hips.

“Alright, maybe it is fairytales. Totally fucked-up fairy tales” Dean responded in defeat, tilting his head at the frog. “I’ll tell you one thing though, there’s no way I’m kissing a damn frog” Y/N gave him a cheeky smile, her eyes playful. "Not even a little peck?" She teased. Dean made a face at the suggestion, but a smirk was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam groaned, rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath. "Please don't encourage him," he implored.

The couple chuckled as Y/N eyes flickered across the street, her eyes catching a pumpkin that was sitting on the porch of a house. “Hey, fellas. Check that out” She pointed to the pumpkin. Dean and Sam’s eyes followed the direction where she was pointing to, curious. “Yeah? It’s close to Halloween” Dean asked with his eyebrow raised.

Sam caught on, shaking his head. “You remember Cinderella? With the pumpkin that turns into a coach and the nice that become horses” Sam told him as a mouse ran across the porch. Dean’s eyes held horror, his head slowly peering over to the duo. “Dude, could you two be more pansies?” Y/N rolled her eyes at him, her hand finding her hip once more.

“Could you be less of a jackass?” She retorted, not missing a beat. Sam chuckled beside her, earning a playful glare from Dean. Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Just saying," he said with a shrug, "We got a possible Three Little Pigs scene, a Hansel and Gretel case, and now we've got a Cinderella deal" Y/N added, her fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket.

"Next we're gonna have Snow fuckin’ White" Dean mumbled, causing both of them to chuckle.

After picking the lock to the house, Y/N rose from her knees, allowing Dean to stretch next to her and open the door. The trio peered in simultaneously, their eyes darting around the eerily quiet house, “Well who knows, maybe you’ll find your fairy godmother” Dean mused, chuckling as he smiled widely at Y/N and Sam. The duo side eyed the elder Winchester, choosing to ignore his comment as they stepped into the house.

The three fanned out, cautiously peering around every corner to search the place. The sound of a creaking in the house caused them to look at each other with suspicion. All pulling out their guns from their jackets in perfect unison. "This is the beginning to a bad, low budget horror movie" Sam mumbled, his eyes flickering around the seemingly empty house.

Y/N bit back a chuckle, but couldn't help the slight smirk forming on her lips at the comment. "Yeah, or an episode of Scooby-Doo" She chimed in. Dean let out an amused scoff. Another sound of clatter drew their attention to the kitchen, Dean jerked his head towards it. Pointing firmly, “Help, I’m in here” The sound of a woman’s terrified voice garnered their attention.

The three of them made their way to the kitchen, guns raised once again, the young woman coming into their view. She was battered, bruised and cuffed to a drawer handle, Sam and Y/N immediately dropped to the floor, the huntress digging into her hair to take out her pin. “Hey, hey. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Sam assured the beaten girl, “You have to help me, she’s a lunatic” The girl sobbed as Y/N began picking the lock to her handcuffs. “What happened, sweetie?” She asked her gently.

“My stepmom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me, chained me up” The young woman croaked, tears running down her battered face. “Where is she now?” Dean asked firmly, he could’ve sworn he saw a little girl peering from the other room at the corner of his eye. “I don’t know” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed together, her hand still working on the cuffs. "Sam. Y/N” Dean kept his eyes on the little girl, indicating to Sam and Y/N of her appearance.

The trio’s eyes widened, “That’s her” Y/N informed them, recognizing the girl from her visions back at the house. Dean nodded before pushing himself up, following behind the girl. The little girl seemed to float away, Dean’s feet quickening their pace after her. “Hey!” He called, reaching out his hand to try to grab her but he fell straight through her. “Dammit” He cursed to himself, sprinting after her once more, only to get the same outcome.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard the floor boards creaking behind him, spinning around to meet eyes with the little girl. Her red hair hand placed neatly at the top of her head, pulling back her dark hair. Her white flowy dress made her seem more eerily, “Who are you?” Dean asked calmly but the little girl didn’t answer. Her blue eyes pierced his green ones with intensity, fear and almost desperation.

Her spirit simply flickered, leaving a bright red apple on the floor in her place. Dean’s expression twisted in confusion and suspicion as the little girl vanished. He knelt down to pick it up, examining it in his hand.

Sam and Y/N were too busy with the girl in the kitchen to notice that Dean had wandered off, their attention solely focused on the abused young woman.

“Paramedics picked up Cinderella” Sam told his brother as he and Y/N reapproached the Impala, Dean was still leaning against the hood, his gaze trapped on the Apple in his hand. “That’s good” He sighed in response, before tossing the apple for Y/N to catch. “So little girl, shiny red apple. I’m guessing that means something to you, fairytale boy and girl” Dean half-joked.

Y/N’s hand caught the apple, her eyebrows furrowing together in thought, "We think it’s Snow White." she said, looking over to Sam, "You remember? The wicked queen gave Snow White a poisoned, red apple?" Her fingers gripped the fruit in her hand and she leaned against the Impala, right next to Dean. Dean nodded, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Snow White? Aw, i saw that movie” He responded, “Well, the porn version anyways” He smirked as a disgusted look appeared on the younger Winchester’s face and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dean pushed himself up from the Impala, opening the passenger side for Y/N as he spoke, “There was this wicked stepmother, phew. She was wicked” He said skittishly as he made his way over to the driver's side door.

Sam ignored his comment, bracing his arms at the top of the Impala at the back right side. “There is a wicked stepmother and she tries to kill Snow White with a poisoned apple.” He informed his older brother as Y/N tossed him the apple. Sam caught the apple, his fingers curling around the fruit’s surface. "And then the step-mom disguises herself as an old woman and offers Snow White the poison apple." He added, eyeing the red fruit with intrigue.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, "But the Apple doesn’t actually kill the girl, right?” Y/N shook her head at Dean’s question. “Nope, puts her into a deep sleep. So deep it’s almost like she’s dead" Y/N responded, “See, I knew you remembered” She half-joked. Dean rolled his eyes, but a smirk managed to find its way on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, whatever" He replied as they all hopped into the Impala.

____________________________________________

Now back at the hospital, “No, sorry. We don’t have any comatose little girls” The receptionist informed them, “Are you sure?” Sam asked as Y/N frowned. “Totally. It’s mostly old guys” The receptionist assured them, “And, well, Callie. She’s been around since before I started here” she added, earning intrigued looks from the trio. “Callie?” Dean asked, “Yeah, it’s so sad” The receptionist said sympathetically.

“And poor Dr. Garrison, he just won’t give up on her” This made Y/N cross her arms over her chest. “Was Callie one of his patients?” She asked, curiously. “No, his daughter” The receptionist told them, they all shared looks that said, ‘Worth a shot’ before thanking her and excusing themselves.

They found themselves in Callie’s hospital room where Dr. Garrison was reading a fully grown and comatose Callie ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ from ‘The Brothers Grimm’ Book. “The huntsman stepped inside and in the bed lay the wolf. So the huntsman took a pair of scissors and cut open the wolf's belly” Dr. Garrison read. The trio shared looks of horror as the doctor’s eyes flickered up to them.

He closed the book before laying the cloth bookmark in its place, taking off his glasses. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead before making his way over to the three, clearing his throat. “Detectives, can I help you?” Dr. Harrison greeted them politely. “We just heard that Callie is your daughter” Dean began, “And we wanted to say how very sorry we are” Sam added sympathetically.

Dr. Garrison rubbed his eye in frustration, his expression weary as he nodded in acknowledgment, “Well, um, thank you” He breathed, a beat of silence stretching between them before he spoke once more, “If you’ll excuse me” He attempted to make his exit, passing through the space between Dean and Y/N. Dean stepped out of the way for the doctor, his gaze watching the dejected man walk away, an expression of pity on his face.

“Oh, well we’re headed this way, we’ll walk with you” Y/N said casually as they all walked beside the doctor. “How long has Callie been like that?” she asked, trying to keep a tone of sincerity so she didn’t sound too nosey. Sam shot her a look, since her tone didn’t help much and indeed did sound nosey as hell. “We don’t mean to intrude, we can’t possibly know how hard it must be for you seeing her like this” Sam assured Dr. Garrison.

Dr. Garrison gave Sam another nod of appreciation before turning to Dean, “Yeah, it’s not easy” Dr. Garrison sighed, his back turned to Sam and Y/N. The younger Winchester took the opportunity to give his Y/N a smack to the back of the head along with a look that said, ‘Really, dude? Really?’

Y/N let out a silent hiss of pain, rubbing the spot where Sam had smacked her, “Dipshit” She muttered under her breath, a small pout forming on her lips. Dean suppressed the urge to laugh. “She’s, uh, been here since she was 8 years old” Dr. Garrison told them as they began walking again, “That’s when she was poisoned?” Sam asked, “Yes, swallowed bleach,” Dr. Garrison confirmed. “Never figure out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, brought her to the ER. Here, I was on call”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his demeanor becoming more serious. Sam and Y/N took a moment to process the information, “Your wife was, uh-? Was that Callie’s stepmother?” Dean asked, Dr. Garrison’s eyes glanced over to Dean with surprise, stopping in his tracks. Everyone came to a halt as the doctor’s eyes flickered between them all, “Actually, yes. How’d you know that?”

“Lucky guess” Y/N came to Dean’s rescue, Dr. Garrison nodded hesitantly, seemingly taking the bait. “Julie was the only mother that, uh, Callie ever knew” Dr. Garrison’s tone was solemn as he stuck his hands into his labcoat’s pockets. Sam and Y/N narrowed their eyes, sharing a look as they mentally put two and two together. “My wife passed away last year and, uh…it’s just my daughter and me now” Dr. Garrison’s voice broke as though he was holding back tears. “She’s all I got left”

A sympathy coursed through Y/N and Sam's veins and Dean's eyes softened a bit. Dr. Garrison cleared his throat, “Um, excuse me, I’ve gotta get back to work” Dr. Garrison excused himself, checking his watch. The trio of hunters watched as Dr. Garrison walked away, heading back towards Callie’s room, “Well, you guys were right. It’s Snow White in spades” Dean said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. They all turned on their heels, headed in the other direction.

“Yup. Stepmom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep.” Sam nodded in agreement. “What’s the motive, you think?” Y/N chimed in between them. “Could he like Mischa Barton, Sixth Sense. Not the O.C” Dean shrugged. “What?” Sam asked, beyond confused. “Hey, we know fairytales, he knows movies” Y/N snorted, nudging her boyfriend to continue explaining. He shot her a sly wink in return, “She played the pasty ghost. You know, remember the mom had that thing where you know, uh, you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Uh…” Sam nodded in recognition, “Münchausen syndrome by proxy. Huh, could be” He agreed, “So say all these years, Callie’s been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what Mommy Dearest did” Y/N began, “And after all this time, her spirit just gets angrier and angrier until it finally just starts lashing out” Sam added as they reached the building’s paramedic entrance. “Meanwhile, she has to listen to Dad tell her all these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady, it’s enough to drive anybody nuts” Dean chimed in.

“Okay, but how are we gonna stop her? I mean, Callie’s stuck here. Her father’s keeping her body alive” Y/N questioned out loud. “It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones” Dean muttered, “Ya think?” Sam shot back sarcastically. “Coming in” a paramedic’s voice boomed through the sliding door as two EMTs wheeled in a gurney with an old woman’s feeble and beaten body on it. “Hey, what’s the status?” A doctor asked urgently as the three watched on.

“Seventy-two-year-old female. Sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is 80/40 and falling. Sinus tachycardia” The EMT informed them as the three followed behind them at a distance to hear what they were saying, “is that a…bite?” A doctor gasped, checking the side of the elderly woman’s blood soaked wrinkly neck. “Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or maybe a wolf” The EMT suggested.

Dean instantly recognized it, “What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?” He asked Sam and Y/N. “Little Red Riding Hood” They responded in unison, sharing wide eyed looks in realization. Their hearts pummeled when the elder woman’s pulse dropped, the doctor declaring the time of death in the process.

“Excuse me.” They all approached the paramedic who wheeled the old woman in after a few minutes when he was making his report of the death, flashing him their fake badges. “Was she the only victim?” Y/N asked as they pocketed their badges, “she was found by the side of the road, barely alive. Alone” The EMT sighed, “We need to find her next of kin” Dean said urgently, the EMT nodded, flipping through the file in his hands. “Uh, she has a granddaughter” he informed them

“Do you have an address?” Y/N asked quickly, the EMT gave it to her without hesitation. She instantly snatched it away from him, “Thank you” she said gratefully as Dean peered over her shoulder, following behind her. “Thanks” Sam thanked the EMT. Dean took the paper from Y/N’s hand, “Okay, you guys find a way to stop Callie, alright?” He gently ordered them, “What about you?” Sam asked, furrowing his brows, “I’m gonna go stop the big bad wolf” He said firmly, earning a raised brow from his girlfriend and brother.

“Which is about the weirdest thing I’ve ever said” he scoffed, “No it ain’t” Y/N smirked, a glint of worry in her eyes. Dean noticed the look of concern in her facial features as they all stood together. “Be safe,” she said seriously. A charming smile made its way onto Dean’s lips, his green eyes flickering over to her, “Ditto” he responded as he watched her roll her eyes at his typical response. He leaned down to press his lips to hers. Sam averted his gaze, giving them privacy for a moment, suddenly finding the coat rack at the corner of the hallway interesting.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as Dean’s lips touched hers, their kiss sweet and brief. Dean pulled away, his eyes locked on Y/N’s, “I love you” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes reopened, a tender expression on her face as she looked into his eyes, “Ditto” Y/N murmured back, a subtle smile on her lips. Dean gave her one last lingering glance before forcing himself to pull away from her and head out the automatic hospital doors.

It had been about 15 minutes since Dean left, Sam and Y/N had been looking for Dr. Garrison since. Finally stumbling upon him in the east wing, the two hunters began jogging towards him. “Dr. Garrison, we need to speak with you” Sam said urgently. Dr. Garrison turned as they both approached him, a tired expression on his face. “Yes, detectives, what can I do for you this time?” He inquired, folding his arms across his chest.

Sam and Y/N shared a nervous glance, “Well, um….It’s about Callie” Y/N said cautiously, fiddling with her thumbs as she interlocked her hands. Dr. Garrison's tired expression turned to one of concern, "My daughter? What about her?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in worry as he took off his reading glasses.

“You know, maybe- maybe we could sit down for a minute” Sam suggested calmly, shoving his hands into his pockets to ease his nerves. “No, what about her?” Dr. Garrison insisted firmly. Y/N took a shaky breath, the anxiety in the air was tangible. Sam and Y/N shared another look, both knowing the information was going to hit Dr. Garrison like a ton of bricks. “Okay, well, um- doctor, this isn’t gonna be easy” Sam began. “But…what happened to Callie was not an accident”

“Excuse me?” The doctor scoffed, his face contorting with confusion and unease. “We’re sorry, but it’s true” Y/N tried to convince him gently, placing a hand up in surrender. “You two have no idea what happened to my daughter” With that, he began walking away but Sam and Y/N followed behind.

“There are things you don’t know, doctor- about your wife” Sam stated as they kept on walking behind him, “My wife?” Garrison scoffed, padding faster, “Doctor, your wife poisoned Callie” Y/N finally said, this made the doctor spin around and the two hunters to stop in their tracks. Garrison's face was filled with shock, anger and pain all at once, “Why would you say something so horrible to me?” he asked vehemently, his voice beginning to crack.

Y/N felt her heart drop in her chest but he needed to hear it, is what she convinced herself. “Because we need your help” Sam pleaded, “You two stay away from me and my daughter, you understand?” He pointed firmly at them before heading into Callie’s room. Their faces dropped, “Doctor, this isn’t- Please, if-“ But the door slammed in their faces. “Fuck” Y/N cursed as she stared at the closed door for a few moments.

A hand came up to rest on her shoulder, she looked up to find that it was Sam’s. “What do we do now?” he inquired, removing his hand and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Y/N gave him a look that Sam immediately recognized, “Y/N/N, no-” She had already opened the door to Callie’s room, “Guess we’re doing it” Sam mumbled as Dr. Garrison’s head snapped up from his comatose daughter, his eyes hardening as Y/N trudged in with determination as Sam followed behind her.

“I’m calling security” Dr. Garrison spat, pointing a finger at the psychic, looking from the comatose teenager then back at them. He immediately headed for the phone but Sam quickly snatched it from his hands, causing him to flinch, “No, we don’t have time to do this gently” Y/N retorted firmly as if she was scolding a child, “If you don’t listen to us, more people are gonna get hurt. Because Callie is gonna hurt them” Sam added, matching Y/N’s tone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dr. Garrison said in defiance, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re going to think we’re crazy but just understand us….Your daughter, Callie, is still here. She’s a spirit” Y/N explained. Dr. Garrison’s eyes dropped to the floor before shifting over to his daughter. He slowly made his way to her bed before sitting at the feet of the hospital bed, a look of despair on his face. “So you’ve seen her too?”

Sam and Y/N stood rooted to the floor for a handful of moments, eyes widened at the surprise of the question. Y/N cleared her throat, “You see her, too?” She asked cautiously as they inched closer to the father. Garrison nodded as his fingers found Callie’s hand on top of the bed comforter. “I’ve sensed her. Callie.” He began as he pushed himself up from her bed, “Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed, but I never…” He blinked rapidly.

“…believed it. I thought I was dreaming- I-” his breathing increased. “It wasn’t a dream” Sam cut him off, burying his hands into his pockets as Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “She looks like she did when she was 8. White dress. Red ribbon in her hair…she’s been trying to talk to you” Y/N said softly. The room filled with silence for a few moments as the doctor tried to process this new information- that he had been actually seeing his daughter.

He shook his head with a gentle scoff, “You’re not cops, are you?” He questioned, “No” Sam and Y/N answering in unison, both glancing down at Callie on the bed. “Then who are you?” They shared a look. “People who know a little bit about this kind of thing,” Sam answered hesitantly. “But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that-” Garrison tried to defend, “Sir. Callie told us” Y/N cut him off.

“What?” Garrison bit back. “But in so many words. But in her own way…she told us” Sam responded calmly as Dr. Garrison shook his head frantically. “My wife loved Callie! So how i- how is that possible?” Sam sighed deeply, “We don’t know, but it is” He said firmly. “It doesn’t make sense, we know. And I’m so, so sorry” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper as the doctor’s gaze lowered back to the girl on the bed.

“No. No, I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t-“ Garrison couldn’t finish the sentence as Y/N and Sam both felt their hearts ache for a father trying to deny his wife doing such a thing. “Look, Callie is killing people. She’s angry, she’s desperate because nobody will listen to her. So you have to listen to her” Sam insisted, pleading with Garrison, “Please….as her father…listen to your daughter.” Y/N said softly, extending her hand out towards the doctor.

Garrison stood there, frozen, as the two hunters stared hopefully at him, anticipating his answer. A moment of silence seemed to be an hour before the doctor broke it, “What- what do you need me to do?” His voice cracked, “I can help you, take my hand and I can sorta anchor you to see her” Y/N explained, Garrison glanced down at her outstretched hand, his hand slowly lifting to reach out.

Once he placed his palm in hers, Y/N guided him over to Callie’s bed, placing her free palm onto the crown of Callie’s head. “Don’t freak out” She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on connecting him to his daughter. Garrison began to feel a strong, yet gentle energy flow through his body, he looked panicked for a second before Y/N gently reassured him, “It’s okay, relax” Her eyes stayed close tightly but her hand stayed on Callie’s head.

“Call out to her” Y/N instructed, reopening her eyes, which shone white and the veins in both her arms ignited its usual blue light. Sam watched on in awe, the sight familiar but still so fascinating to him. Garrison nodded and shifted his gaze to his daughter, “Callie.” He called out tenderly, his heart swelling at the sound of her name rolling off of his tongue. “Callie, it’s Daddy, it’s me, Daddy” he breathed heavily as his hand tightened around Y/N’s.

His breath shuddered, “Is it true? Did Mommy do that to you?” The doctor began crying, using his free hand to place it on his daughter’s. Not letting go of Y/N’s. “I know I wasn’t listening before, but I’m listening now” Suddenly, there was a change to the room, the air felt lighter, like a presence was watching. Sam saw her at the corner of the room and Y/N felt her presence.

“Daddy’s here. Please honey, is there any way you can tell me?” Garrison pleaded with his daughter’s comatose body. “Doctor. Y/N” Sam’s voice broke through, their heads turned to him as he nodded to the corner of the room. Garrison spun around, his eyes landing on the spirit of his 8-year old daughter. Her white dress was radiant, her red ribbon tied perfectly in her hair, a sad smile gracing her lips.

Garrison’s hand slipped from Y/N’s, her veins and eyes reverting back to its usual color. “Is it true?” He asked his daughter, trying to keep his voice from falling. Callie’s spirit simply nodded as Y/N took her hand off of the crown of her comatose body’s head. Garrison’s knees wobbled, but he kept to his feet. He shook slightly, “Why did she….” His voice trailed off, he gulped hard as he kept his gaze focused on his daughter.

“Why did Mommy do this?” Callie’s expression saddened, her smile faltering as her dad pleaded for answers. Her little spirit lifted her hand up as if to point at someone, her father’s head spun to a picture above the bed. The photo of his wife and daughter, smiling and happy in a park. Sam and Y/N frowned deeply upon seeing the heartbroken look on Garrison’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby”

“But listen to me, you gotta stop what you’re doing, okay? You’re hurting people.” He pleaded with his daughter as he leaned forward, “I know everything now….I know the truth” His breathing shuddered again as Callie’s stare pierced into his soul, “It’s time for you to let go…..it’s time for me to let you go”

Y/N felt a sudden pain in her chest, it ached and made her breath hitch. She had seen the look on a parent’s face before, saying those words to their child, but she never thought that she’d see it happening in front of her. Garrison wiped his face, his mouth quivering as he tried to hold in his sobs. Her eyes connected with Sam’s, who wore a mirrored expression to hers as Dr. Harrison padded over to his daughter’s bed. He leaned down and placed a tearful kiss on her forehead.

Almost immediately, the EKG flatlined. The long solemn beep filling the room with dread, Sam and Y/N both watched on, holding back tears as the father pressed his face to his comatose daughter’s shoulder. His shoulders started to shake violently as he cried into her shoulder, his own hands coming up to clutch the edges of the thin hospital blanket.

Garrison spun around to face the direction his daughter’s spirit was, her image now gone as the heavy feeling on Y/N’s chest finally rolled off. Her body slumped as the air returned to her lungs, she felt a large hand on her back, steadying her. “She’s gone” Sam softly whispered, rubbing her back gently. “Yeah…she’s gone” Y/N repeated shakily, nodding her head slightly. The pair both stared at the weeping man clutching his deceased daughter’s body, the sound of his desperate sobs echoing through the room.

____________________________________________

Now in the reception area, Dean had made it back to the hospital after saving the little girl who had been kidnapped from her captive, once Callie passed, the trance she had her victims in broke. “And the girl’s okay?” Dr. Garrison asked Dean, who nodded in return. He was a bit beat up from the fight with the little girl’s capture but he’d live….for now, “So, it’s really over” Garrison sighed deeply.

“Yeah, all thanks to you” Sam responded. Garrison’s lips turned into a slight smile, “Callie was the most important thing in my life….but I should’ve let her go a long time ago” He admitted, “See you around, doc” Dean offered the doctor a half smile, “I sure hope not” Garrison responded with a half-joke before patting Dean on his shoulder and making his exit.

Y/N’s hand found Dean’s, her fingers intertwining with his as she felt a slight sting in her eyes. The events of the day took a toll on her, her energy was drained, she was tired and sad. Seeing a father lose his daughter was not something she wanted to be used too. “You know, what he said….that’s some good advice” Dean’s voice broke the silence.

Y/N raised a brow at her boyfriend’s insinuation as Sam scoffed, “Is that what you want us to do, Dean? Just let you go?” Dean didn’t dare to look either of them in the eye. With a scoff, Y/N pulled away from Dean, staring directly at him as he looked away, “Stop” She huffed in frustration, she was exhausted and definitely not in the mood to deal with his self-pity.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s and then Sam’s. The trio didn’t say a word, so Dean simply trudged off, making his way to the exit of the hospital. Y/N’s jaw locked, eyes narrowing in irritation as she watched him walk away. She looked over at Sam, he met her gaze, as they both understood what the other was thinking. They both followed after Dean, walking at a brisk pace to catch up to his brisk form.

____________________________________________

Later that night, it was nearing midnight. Dean was swaddled into Y/N’s arms. His head nestled into the space where her neck and shoulder meet, his nose burying itself into the crook of her neck. Her eyes were shut, her breathing was low and steady, he could tell she was fast asleep by the way her body felt limp against his.

So she took the opportunity, gently prying herself away from him. Her movement was careful as she peeled herself away from his warmth, he stirred slightly. She froze in her spot but Dean fell back asleep, his arm over her spot in the bed. Y/N let out a breath of relief as she pulled the blanket up further to cover his naked form.

With as little noise as possible, she shoved her clothes onto her body and placed a kiss to his temple. A look of despair was on her face as she tiptoed over to his bag, retrieving the Colt. Y/N sighed to herself, her eyes on Dean’s sleeping form.

“I love you, charming”

With that and one last look at the man she loves over her shoulder, she walked cautiously to the door and quietly opened it before exiting. The hallway was dark but it was easy to spot Sam, he stood there in his usual clothes, already awaiting her. Y/N made her way over to him, closing the door behind her.

“Ready?” She asked as she came to stand next to him, her voice was low and hushed. Sam nodded at her, his lips thinning in determination, “Yeah” He responded, his hands shoved into his pockets. Y/N offered him a small smile, holding up the keys to the Impala she snaked from Dean’s bag before the pair started walking down the hall.

Sam knelt in the middle of a crossroads, a wooden box and its needed contents in one hand and a fake ID in his other. He took a deep breath, glancing up with Y/N who held the Colt firmly in her hand. The crossroads was dark but Y/N could make out the sound of crickets in the distant cornfield behind them and smell the rich earthy scent of dirt. She stood beside Sam, her nerves on high alert as he shut the box and stuck it into the hole. Using his hands to toss the gravel onto it, burying it into the hole.

Her ears strained to sense any sudden movement around her. Y/N’s free hand went to the bottom of the shirt she had borrowed from the man sleeping in the motel as she subconsciously gripped the white material tightly. Sam dusted his hands, sighing heavily as he stood up, their eyes darting to every corner of the crossroad. Suddenly, that burning feeling at the back of Y/N’s neck made her head snap in the direction of the present demon.

“Well, little Sammy Winchester and Y/N/N L/N. I’m touched” The female crossroad demon announced her presence, her eyes flashing red at the duo. Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, hiding it behind her back. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to get a better look, “I mean, Dean’s been to see me twice but you two…” The crossroad demon chuckled, “I’ve never had the pleasure”

Sam’s gaze hardened with hatred directed to the crossroad demon who bore the contract to his brother’s soul. “What can I do for you Sam and Y/N?” The demon asked with a smirk as Y/N gritted her teeth, she made eye contact with Sam who nodded in agreement. Without hesitation, she raised the Colt, pointing it straight to the demon’s forehead. “You can beg for your life” Y/N quipped cockily.

The demon raised her hands in submission, her smirk never leaving her lips. “We were having such a nice conversation. Then you had to go and ruin the mood.” The demon purred, her eyes flickering from the barrel of the gun to Y/N’s face. “If I were you, I’d drop the wisecracks and start acting scared” Sam snapped back. The demon scoffed cockily, shaking her brunette head, “It's not my style” her eyes went back to the gun and over to the duo, “And that’s not the original Colt” she pointed out, smirking at them.

Y/N’s mouth formed a firm line as she and Sam’s confidence faltered. “Where did you get that?” She questioned as Y/N kept her weapon pointed at the demon. The two didn’t answer and their silence alone answered the question for them, “Ruby. Had to be” The demon shook her head, “She is such a pain in my ass” she scoffed as Sam and Y/N kept their narrowed eyes on her. “She’ll get what’s coming to her. You can count on it”

“That’s enough.” Y/N interrupted with pure venom in her tone, “We came here to make you an offer” The psychic stated, causing the demon to chuckle humorlessly. “You two are gonna make me an offer? That’s adorable” Y/N’s jaw locked as she inhaled deeply through her nose, “It’s in your best interest to hear us out” She replied evenly as Sam gave her a look from the corner of his eye, keeping his mouth shut.

The demon scoffed cockily once more but her confidence wavered, “Well then, let’s hear your offer” as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You can let Dean out of his deal right now.” Sam began, tilting his head as he shoved his hands into his pocket, “He lives, Y/N lives, I live, you live. Everyone goes home happy. Or…” Y/N cocked the gun, challenging the demon. “My sister is gonna put a bullet into your head, and you stop breathing. Permanently.”

The demon stared down the business end of the gun again, the smirk now slipping off her lips. “Well, that’s a tempting offer” She replied sarcastically. However, the duo caught the small look of hesitation etched on her face for a brief moment. “All this tough talk, I have to tell you, it’s not very convincing” She began walking around them but they circled in return, Y/N keeping the Colt aimed at the demon.

“I mean, come on guys. Do you even want to break the deal?” She chuckled, her back facing them, “What do you think?” Y/N spat, gritting her teeth again, a bad habit she couldn’t seem to break whenever she was angry. “I don’t know. Aren’t you tired of cleaning up Dean’s messes, Sam? And Y/N, aren’t you tired of dealing with that broken psyche of his?”

Y/N’s knuckles turned white, her grip on the gun tightening as she swallowed dryly, “Aren’t you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother?” The demon taunted Sam before turning to Y/N. “And you,” she paused, her eyes meeting with Y/N’s wide angry ones.

“You’re fed up with being his caretaker, aren’t you? Making him soup when he’s sick, listening to his problems, putting his broken pieces back together. Yet he still treats you no better than your daddy did. Like a weak, broken, immature little girl. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” The demon said with a look of mock-sympathy, a look that made the psychic’s skin crawl. Y/N’s jaw ticked, biting the inside of her cheek, both her and Sam struggling to control their facial expressions.

“Watch your mouth” Sam warned, “Admit it” The demon stepped towards them, “You two are here, going through the motions. But the truth is, you’ll be a tiny bit relieved when he’s gone” The demon insisted, “Shut up” Y/N warned, her finger hovering over the trigger. She shut her eyes, trying to ease her anger as Sam pulled her back slightly.

“No more desperate, sloppy, needy Dean. You can finally be free” The demon continued to taunt, “We said, SHUT UP!” Sam bellowed his patience breaking, the demon simply tilted her head with a smirk. “Huh. Doth protest too much if you ask me” She quipped, “Alright, I’ve had enough of your shit. You let my man out of his deal right now. Or so god help me, I will put a bullet into your skull” Y/N demanded, her tone dark and low.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but your man’s an adult. He made that deal of his own free will. Fair and square” The demon denied as she stepped around the two. The demon had a condescending smile plastered on her face as Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to control her temper. “It’s ironclad” The demon smirked, her back turned to them. “Every deal can be broken” Sam scoffed as Y/N still held the gun in the demon’s direction.

“Not this one” The demon turned to face them once again, they refused the believe it. Desperation filling them. “Fine, then she’ll kill you. If you’re gone, so is the deal” Sam bluffed, but Y/N wasn’t bluffing about killing the demon. “Guess again” The demon smirked. Their faces dropped, “What?” They gasped in unison. “Sam, Y/N. I’m just a saleswoman. I got a boss like everybody. He holds the contact, not me.” The demon explained.

Their gazes remained hard, “He wants Dean’s soul, bad. And believe me, he’s not gonna let it go” She shook her head, “You’re bluffing” Y/N prayed to god she was right, “Am I?” The demon scoffed, the cocky look not leaving her face. “Shoot me, if it’ll get you off” She tempted them. “But the deal still holds. And when Dean’s time is up, he’s getting dragged into the pit”

“Then who’s your boss? Who holds the contract?” Sam demanded as Y/N lowered the gun, giving the demon some hope she’s getting out of there alive. “He’s not as cuddly as me, I can tell you that” The demon responded as Sam and Y/N’s rolled their eyes, “Who is he?” Y/N demanded, her nostrils flaring. “I can’t tell you” The demon shook her head, their eyes filled with anger again but they managed to keep a calm demeanor. “I’m sorry Sam and Y/N, but there’s no way out of this one…..Not this time”

The two exchanged a look, neither of them wanting to accept her answer but not knowing what else to do. They communicated with their eyes, Y/N raising her brow, ‘We gonna kill her?’ she asked in Winchesterarian.

Sam shrugged before nodding, practically saying, ‘Kill the bitch’

So, in a swift movement, Y/N raised the gun again and shot the demon in the middle of her forehead. The demon’s face fell slack, her eyes empty and glazed over as she fell to the ground. Silence blanketed the area. Y/N lowered the smoking gun, her face stone cold, no emotion or expression on it.

For some reason, she found herself itching for Maverick’s Dagger, the need to place her hand on that godforsaken and ‘destroyed’ knife growing on her again.

A guttural sound left the demon’s throat before a sulfuric smell filled the empty area, filling Sam’s nose, he grimaced in disapproval. His expression mirrored Y/N’s as the demon’s body twitched with an orange glow, his face as cold as ice.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Heyyyyyyy, heyyyy, how y’all doinnnn☺️ Hope everyone enjoyed it!❤️

I mentioned in my first author's note that it’s carnival season in my country and it made me wonder, where is everyone else from? It’s totally up to you buttt, why don’t you guys drop your flag/state??? I’d love get to know where all of my wonderful and loyal readers are based, just my way of feeling more connected with with everyone <3

I’ll go first🥰 I hail from the beautiful (and bacchanal filled💀) twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago🇹🇹

Sometimes I feel as if I’m the only Caribbean writer for Supernatural so I’d love to know if there are any other fellow Caribbean’s who share my love🫶

Anyways, enough rambling. I hope everyone is having an amazing February and you all had an amazinggg Valentine’s Day. Much love! See you in the next episode🥰

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 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #Genesis Primis #The Old Testament Series #the winchester brothers #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean smut #spn smut #smut

74 notes · View notes

adore-laur · 1 year ago

Text

GOLD RUSH: PART ONE

— harry is your ex-husband and the father of your child, and the both of you are just trying to make it work 💛 (loosely inspired by taylor swift’s “gold rush”)

——

For you, Nashville used to be a place where family and love resided. When Harry realized he found fulfillment in writing songs there, he suggested buying a house in the eastern part of the city, where the historical streets and electric nightlife lent him endless inspiration.

That was during the honeymoon phase, when you two were bound by a thread of intense desire. Shortly after, the newlywed phase came with spontaneous decisions you couldn't help but ride along with. Even the marriage itself was on a whim. Harry bent down on one knee after only one year of long-distance dating, never sounding more confident than when he asked you to be eternally his. Again, you agreed. But why?

Let's just say he has a contrarian way of thinking paired with strong persuasion skills.

Two months after getting married, you fell pregnant and welcomed a baby before the first wedding anniversary could even pass. To put it truthfully, it was unexpected. There was no plan to become parents so soon, especially since Harry was at the height of his career. Nonetheless, both of you adapted to his busy lifestyle for the family's sake. Everything was arranged around his schedule, yet you never thought twice about it.

There's no doubt that Harry is a wanted man. Everyone needs something from him, whether an interview across the country or a tour on another continent. He accepted the business calls and flights with no hesitation, and you couldn't necessarily blame him since it's all he's known for over a decade. However, after a while, it reached a point where you weren't seeing him in person for several weeks at a time.

When you were his girlfriend, it was tolerable. As a mother, it was unbearably desolate.

He's a yes-man who shies under authoritative rule, and it affected every crevice of your private life with him. All you needed was for him to be present. That's not to say he was disconnected or couldn't bond with his baby during the instances he was around; it was quite the opposite. You had never seen him so enamored with another human before. Unfortunately, the limited time he was home without obligations tying him down was too much for you.

Those exhausting nights spent alone trying to calm a crying baby, wads of dwindling cash being slapped in the babysitter's hand, keeping up with time zones just to call your husband for a short and meager conversation about nothing—it was miserable upon reflection.

Harry had attempted to convince you to join him on tour with the baby, but you could clearly see in his eyes that he was hesitant. All the traveling, sleepless nights, and potential invasion of privacy would have been too risky for such a delicate part of your lives.

Eventually, the bomb dropped. You had a nagging thought in your brain that wondered why Harry couldn't just trim the length of his tour so he could stay with you more often. Or at least try to visit every once in a while on his days off. It shouldn't be considered selfish to ask for such things, right?

Well, you were terribly mistaken. Those dreaded questions you asked him over a late-night phone call turned into a screaming match. Words like weapons were thrown around—ones you still regret today. Harry had cowered while putting his guard up, claiming it was his job and that he couldn't always be home. Something along the hurtful lines of "I can't do two things at once" sealed the deal.

So, while sobbing on your bedroom floor as your baby cried in the other room, you suggested a divorce. It was later finalized with paperwork signed by both parties. One signature took substantially longer to get, but dwelling on that fact eats you alive.

A lot has changed in the year since you've separated from Harry. You don't hate him anymore, for one. You never expected to fall out of love with him since his presence is too comfy and his efforts to mend things are too admirable. Vulnerable conversations with him elicited a mutual agreement that you shouldn't shut each other out, especially with a child involved.

Now, you successfully co-parent with him during the periods he's not touring. The child custody lawyer recommended the 3-4-4-3 schedule: Harry gets your daughter for the first three days of the week, while you get her for the last four. The fourth day is swapped every other week to maintain an equal parental balance.

You would say it's going well so far. It's a little trickier now, considering this is the first time he's been on tour since the divorce, so the scheduling is constantly being rearranged. You've discussed the possibility of flying out to a few shows every month and then Harry flying out to Nashville on his days off.

It's Friday, your day with your daughter, and Harry just so happens to be playing a second sold-out show in Nashville tonight. You couldn't attend the first one because of work, but you're here now, standing in front of his dressing room at the Bridgestone Arena. As you wait for him to finish getting ready, your daughter rambles about what she wants Harry to wear tonight. Wishes for princess dresses and tiaras are sprinkled throughout her incoherent toddler speech.

"Is that who I think it is?" Outside the closed door, Harry's deep voice makes your face heat, as you anticipate it to do whenever he's around.

Your daughter's head snaps toward the sound of her father, her expression immediately lighting up. "Me!" she shouts excitedly, trying to wiggle her way out of your arms.

"Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble over there," he says teasingly.

She giggles and reaches over to try and turn the doorknob, but Harry beats her to it. The door swings open, revealing your ex-husband in a tight-fitting silk vest with matching trousers the color of ivory. He looks like an actual angel sent down from heaven. You sometimes wonder what it must be like to be as beautiful as him.

Harry gasps dramatically when he sees who you're holding and scoops her into his tattooed arms, kissing her cheek repeatedly. "I haven't seen you in forever," he murmurs against her head. "I missed you so, so much."

It's been almost two weeks since he flew out to visit when he had a few days free from performing. Rehearsals and meetings have been bogging up his time, so you know it's been killing him to go so long without seeing her.

You silently admire their indescribable bond through a lens of what could have been. Your mind occasionally creates scenarios about him that you'd like to be true. In moments of weakness, you pretend there's still a wedding ring on your finger, and you even shamefully put it on sometimes. You pretend Harry is sleeping next to you at night by laying a pillow on the other side of the bed and letting your body naturally drift over to hold it. You pretend the songs he wrote about you aren't about the heartbreak and loneliness you caused, instead choosing to believe they're about someone else.

"Picture," says your daughter, lightly hitting the phone in your hand and pulling you from your wandering thoughts.

"Do you want to take a picture of him?" you ask her, placing the phone in her grasp.

She nods and fidgets with the side buttons. You take her from Harry's arms and help her hold the phone, telling her where to click while Harry sets down his mic pack and readjusts his outfit.

"Ready? Tell Dad to pose."

Harry puts one hand on his hip and sticks his leg out, his back's reflection visible in the mirror behind him. He tries to keep a neutral expression, but a smile grows as the camera flash goes off.

This somehow feels… normal.

You set her down so she can dawdle around the dressing room, then place your phone in your pocket. "Where is everyone?" you ask, accepting Harry's hug.

He inhales deeply and tightens his arms around your shoulders. "I told them I wanted some alone time with you guys."

When you swallow, it feels like there are thorns lining your throat. "That's sweet. I can imagine it gets pretty chaotic back here."

"Mm-hmm," he hums, beginning to sway you side to side. "I'm happy you came."

"So am I," you say, painfully aware of his warm skin against yours. "Sorry we couldn't visit sooner. Work has been really busy."

Harry leaves a kiss so faint on your head that you almost don't register it. "Hey, don't apologize. You work hard enough. It means the world that you both came to watch me tonight."

"Of course. You have no idea how proud I am of you."

He still doesn't let you go, his big, comforting hands splaying across the expanse of your back. "The feeling is mutual," he replies, his gentle voice seeping into your senses. "Proud doesn't even come close to what I feel about you. You know that, right?"

You can't help but brush the dust off his statement and dig for a deeper possible meaning. You still have love for him; you know that for sure, but is it too far-fetched to think he still has some for you? You already know the answer if the songs he wrote are any indication.

In another life, you see yourself happily married and raising a child with him in the comfort of your home in Nashville. Waking up next to him every morning and padding across the wooden floor to the kitchen, where you'd make tea and breakfast together. Finding a steady rhythm in terms of balancing work schedules and parenthood and eventually falling into a perfect domestic routine.

Yet deep down, you know it could never be. Harry's lifestyle wasn't made to clash with yours as much as you might have believed it all those years ago. The highs couldn't outweigh the lows. His life moved too fast, while yours ran out of stamina trying to keep up. You carelessly jumped into his inviting waters too soon and didn't think of the devastating fate that would come crashing down on you.

You would still die for his love, just like everyone else, but you suppose it will fade over time.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles #adore-laur #gold rush series

267 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 4 months ago

Text

Writer Tag Game

I'm making a bunch of posts for my queue, so here is a list of some of my fics and a literal summary underneath them all.

And fuck it why not, lets turn this into a tag game. Everyone list your fics/stories of any kind and give me the most literal, hilarious summary of them all.

Btw you can find all of these fics and more in my Masterlist here.

A Court of Song and Desolation

Tammy and Lulu are boyfriends who never communicated that to each other. Elain gets two besties who continuously try to convince her to do murder. Koschei is gay. Also ghosts are trying to take over the world.

How Nesta Archeron Learned To Trap A Beast

Nesta says fuck it we ball, Tammy is a sad lost princess.

The Gardens The Fruit And The Serpent

Tamlin's daughter Dahlia watches all her friends and her wife die violently and horrifically (:

A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning

Dahlia falls hopelessly in love with a married woman who also has a child. At the same time her dad fucks her best friend.

Naked Poetry

Tamlin and Kallias fuck Eris and his entire family.

Citrus Tears, Sour Souls

I drink your tears.

A Field Of Dahlias

Feyre gets Tamlin pregnant and becomes a deadbeat mom.

The One True High Lord

Feyre gets Rhysand pregnant but this time she steps up.

A Game Never Worth Playing

Eris and Tamlin are hopelessly in love.

The Dog Days Are Over

I love @shi-daisy 's fic so goddamn much.

Tags, no pressure this is just my stupid idea <3

@shi-daisy, @praetorqueenreyna, @sonics-atelier, @highlordofkrypton

@unanswered-stars, @yaralulu, @matrixsss, @lifeisabiscuit, @samhatch

@sad-scarred-sassy, @foxcort, @arson-09, @fourteentrout, @olenvasynyt

@fieldofdaisiies, @readychilledwine, @hieragalbatorixdottir, @talibunny30, @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken

@witch-and-her-witcher, @nocasdatsgay, @bookishfeylin, @axbxlx, @kateprincessofbluewhales,

And everyone else who wants to join.

#acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #tamlin's daughter #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #acotar fics #tag game #queued post

22 notes · View notes

wonbokkies · 2 years ago

Text

11:11 pm. yjw ☆

bf jungwon x gn! reader

syn: late rainy nights with yang jungwon.

wc: 1k.

mi's note🎧:im in a jungwon brainrot rn i miss him very badly. i also wrote this very long ago :> enjoy!!!!

the night rain poured on the rested city of seoul, each and every drop echoing, continuously hitting the cold, desolate streets. raindrops sat on windowsills, dancing on the glass, racing down to the edge. the teasing moon shied away behind a dark cloud, its light illuminating one side of a dimly lit bedroom. tonight was labeled as an enchanting night. a lonely one.

with windows open, the downpour playing a soft tune throughout your silent room, you sighed into the comfort of your fluffy pillows, gifted to you by a friend. your eyes glazed out the window, focusing on the playful glow of the moon, failing to notice the mere presence of another in the room.

“love?”

shifting your body, you turned to face the owner of the voice. and there you were met with the alluring sight of a cherry headed boy, drying his damp, wet hair from the shower he previously took. you couldn't help but stare at him, mouth agape, eyes fixed on his simple cotton pajamas. how could someone be so effortlessly beautiful?

hanging his wet towel, jungwon made his way towards the bed, sending you a soft smile.

“hi baby.” he said, plopping down next to you, the bed dipping due to the newly added weight. you snapped out of your trance, the cold tips of your ears hueing bright pink in embarrassment. pouting jokingly, you sat up, extending your arms outwards to embrace your lovely boyfriend in a hug, arms wrapping tightly around his frame, surrounding the boy with warmth. you sighed, inhaling the floral scent emitting from his body.

jungwon chuckled at the sudden affection and proceeded to return the hug, petting your head in advance. “what's wrong honey?”

“i’ve missed you.” you said, voice muffling due to your face being squished into his chest. he let out a chuckle, the vibrations you felt against your cheeks causing you to look up at him because of the ticklishness.

“stop laughing at me.” you frowned and looked away, untangling yourself out of his hold and turning fully so your back is facing away from him. his feline eyes creased in delight at your rare clinginess, his smile only extending.

“heyyy – don’t do that.” he said poking your back and trying to tug on your shoulder, but unfortunately for the poor boy, you didn’t budge, arms crossing against your chest. a pout plastered itself on jungwons face, but it soon dissolved as his eyes lit up and broad shoulders lifted. he got an idea. 3, 2, 1.

“attack!” he yelled before charging at you (whom was very confused), bombarding you with lots and lots of tickles, using your ticklishness to his advantage. immediately, you burst into small giggles and jumbled words, body moving hastily, trying to avoid his fingers poking at your very ticklish curves.

“s-stop! it tickles! gah jungwonfgh –” you screeched, trying to gently shove him off of you but now jungwon would not budge. his next move surprised you, as he seemingly pounced on you with a semi tackle, taking the both of you down against the sheets. as you plopped onto the silk pillows, loud laughter and a chorus of “nooo’s” emitted from the both of you. continuing to tickle you, you rolled around and successfully attempted to do the same back.

“y-yah!” he exclaimed, when you pinched his side. you continued to do so until he let out a loud yelp. “okay, okay, i’ll stop!” he cried out. you halted your movements when he did so and laughed at the heavily breathing boy, catching your own breath as well.

you two looked restless. both appeared with messy bedhead, wrinkled clothing and pink cheeks. the pillows were out of place and the sheets were rustled. (although it didn't matter since you were about to go to bed anyways). you glanced at each other, pure fondness reflecting in both of your eyes. giggling, you enveloped one another in a sweet caress.

leaning into your boyfriend's side, you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, rubbing your cheek against it. jungwon sighed happily in contentment and tenderly wrapped his arms around you, laying back more comfortably. you embraced each other in silence, ears perking open to the light sounds of the rain as the pale moon shone down on the both of you. you were ethereal.

you began to place gentle, light kisses on the boy’s neck, causing the hair on his back to rise and goosebumps to run down his melanin skin. he sighed into your touch, pulling you even closer as he listened to your calming heartbeat- with his own beating erratically.

“jungwon.”

“hm?” you looked up at your boyfriend, eyes scanning his soft face and admiring his glowing features. jungwon proceeded to do the same, watching the way your eyebrows slightly flutter and your bottom lip getting trapped between your pearly whites. your small hands delicately intertwined itself, combing through his locks, lulling the tired boy to sleep.

“nothing. just wanna say that i love you,” you mumbled with an endearing smile, making him shake his head and draw you in closer to his pounding chest, not the least bit afraid that you may hear it. your body rested atop his as the both of you clutched onto each other like two pieces of a puzzle. a perfect one. with you placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, jungwon swore he could feel the mere tip of a butterfly’s wing graze his whole heart. he loved you. he loves you. very, very much.

“i love you too y/n. always.” and he locked his lips with yours.

send an ask if you'd like to be added to our permanent taglist!

perm. tl: @nyangified @wtfhyuck @rjclouds @yaexure

253 notes · View notes

kottkrig · 1 year ago

Text

From The Ashes

A Darkfallen night elf experiences Hallow's End for the first time, and witnessing the burning wickerman makes her question her place with the Forsaken.

World of Warcraft / Original Characters

Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

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

It was the first proper Hallow’s End after the Desolate Council had been reformed and Lordaeron was reclaimed by its people. The Forsaken’s prime holiday marked the day when they broke free from the Scourge, celebrated with the symbolic burning of a giant wickerman. It was built on an older human iteration, which represented change and ushered in the darkest months of the year. Shorter days and longer nights were fortunate for the undead, even more so for those who followed the Cult of Forgotten Shadows.

Zala, an undead night elf, was only introduced to the holiday when she was taken in by the Cult a few years ago. Holidays had been something she shied away from, even back on Kalimdor where she certainly wasn’t observing anything practiced by humans, nor would she have cared for its revival when the Banshee Queen ruled. To her relief, that woman’s reign was no more.

The Capital City courtyard was packed around the wickerman. This year, the Desolate Council would hold a speech to inaugurate a new era for their people. Zala was initially just interested in the trick-or-treat festivities – it was an excuse to prank people and to gorge on so much candy it made even the dead sick – but this ceremony had her curious. During Hallow’s End, you would cast a branch into the wickerman’s flames and let it burn away the sorrows that the branch represented. You painted your face with its ashes, and in that moment, you sent a message to the world that you would not cower for anyone who called you a monster. You are not a mindless ghoul; you have free will, you embrace the Shadow, you are Forsaken. Zala wondered how people felt about that sentiment in the modern era, considering the things she knew about the overthrown Queen who first preached those words. Tonight, she had the opportunity to witness the reception herself.

There were many other undead elves – Darkfallen, as they were collectively called – who waited for the ceremony. Half of them were rangers patrolling up on the city walls. Zala considered watching with them, as the battlements up there were a good vantage point for watching the courtyard. But she was not enlisted with the rangers, and did not dare disturb them.

She didn’t particularly enjoy masses of strangers, and chose to stay near the Forgotten Shadow. The Cult kept to the side on a higher step, where they could clearly be spotted by those who sought the Shadow’s embrace. Now and then, people came up for blessings, but Zala preferred that others do the preaching. She sat in the back with one of the cultists she knew best; Brother Lafayette.

“There are more Darkfallen up there,” Zala described for him and pointed at the patrolling rangers. ”Maybe six or so are Kaldorei… or were. I think I saw a few more in the crowd.”

“Oh, how good of them to join us. Do you see anyone you know?”

“No… maybe some. I’m gonna stay here though.”

Lafayette was small and frail, and had to rely on just sensing the wickerman’s warmth if the cultists in front of them didn't move. He was too meek to force his way through, but Zala didn’t mind sitting with him. He had a calming aura that she appreciated.

She was curious about other Darkfallen, having spoken to a few when she chose to join the Forsaken, but she stayed with the Cult so much that she rarely met with outsiders. Besides, she knew she was difficult company as a troublemaker to both the living and the dead, with an ingrained fear of rejection that was hard to shake. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of the meaning of this day.

She and most others like her never were mindless undead of the Scourge, and instead fell to the war machine of the very people they now stood amongst. The Forsaken of today openly rejected the person who orchestrated the worst of the war, but even if they did, Zala avoided the military who once followed the Banshee Queen. Merely the mention of the infamous name made her tense. Other fallen night elves all had different reasons for choosing to shun Elune and join the Forsaken, and Zala had only barely overheard their stories. Her own was conveniently about fleeing a loveless life and showing spite against a deity who never answered any of her prayers. The Shadow, on the other hand, she could tap into through strength of will and without begging for attention.

The Desolate Council finally made their appearance. Zala and Lafayette listened to their grand speech about survival, about free will and family, about a future together in a world where the living outnumbered the undead. They had survived yesterday, they were still here today, and they would survive tomorrow no matter what. As they set the wickerman ablaze, the crowd erupted in cheers.

“For Lordaeron! Power to the Forsaken!”

The cultists in front of them joined in praising when the enormous fire cast even greater shadows behind every soul around. Lafayette clapped his skeletal hands for the ceremony, preferring to make little noise when participating. Zala, however, was distracted as she watched the burning. It was a monumental sight and its warmth reached every corner of the courtyard. Her thoughts went back to the Fourth War.

Zala never saw the world tree burn. She died by the Darkshore border before she could witness it, and awoke to a val’kyr flying above her with the corpse of Teldrassil looming behind it. After that point, she remembered only rage over the injustice of life; she lived as a lonely, burdensome Kaldorei, who enlisted with no motives other than desperation for belonging. She had no family, no friends, no one who wouldn’t become fed up with her issues. No one would miss her if she died, and when she did die, what she then became was reviled by all of Kalimdor and the goddess that loomed over its forests. She was so resentful, and so alone. What care did she have if she was made into an abomination against life? Their prejudiced deity never favored someone as unimportant as Zala in the first place. If she was killed again, she still had nothing to lose. Until she was found by the Cult of Forgotten Shadows.

She glanced up at the other Darkfallen. How many of them had witnessed the world tree’s fall? What were their reasons for shunning Elune? How did they feel about standing by the Forsaken and witnessing this smoldering spectacle? Zala was frustrated with the lack of closure. Not all of them could have related to her specific circumstances, and what their faces said was too difficult for her to read at that distance, but she did see a few rangers whispering to each other. One left their post. Many questions popped up in Zala’s head, all of them heavy, and she felt frustrated when she couldn’t pass the load on. The shouting around her made it difficult to concentrate.

Lafayette seemed to have noticed her lack of input on the ceremony, as he tapped her arm and asked her if everything was okay. She leaned down so he could hear her.

“I’m okay, but… can I leave? I feel weird.”

“I think we can get a permit to leave as we’re not doing much,” Lafayette replied, “do you want me to go with you?”

Zala nodded before she could think about it. They excused themselves, with her elbowing them through the crowd and out of the city. Only when they stopped downhill, away from the guards stationed at the gates, did she feel relief. It was strange, as she didn’t believe it was related to the burning. Why would it be? And yet… Lafayette waited for her to start, but when she didn’t find any words, he took the initiative.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind. Crowds are often overwhelming… is that what it is?”

It was also true, but Zala shook her head. Her unease couldn’t be because of guilt. There was nothing to feel guilty about, and Lafayette knew why it was the case for her, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the other undead night elves. They stood out here. They had their high elf cousins among the Darkfallen, but they were not the same.

“I feel out of place,” she said, “everyone is cheering about being free and united, and all of those things, but it wasn’t like that for me. We’re different from you guys.”

“You mean other night el–... Darkfallen like you?”

She nodded. Lafayette went quiet for a minute and mulled over his response, as it would probably be a delicate one. He was such a careful little dead human, slight of frame and more than a foot below her. He hid behind the black mop on his head and avoided the gaze of the scads of people who towered over him. But when Zala came to him, he always smiled at her. Whenever she got riled up and teased people a little too far, he was someone who seldom retorted and instead tried to withdraw, and that did make her feel guilty. She didn’t enjoy wrestling with someone who wouldn’t fight back, and he was kind to her when she was upset, even when she shouted mean things at him. Zala feared that he would eventually get fed up with her mood swings, like everyone before him.

“This is pretty new to you, isn’t it? Maybe you are feeling disconnected because it's a holiday with human origins.” Lafayette fiddled with his sleeves. “But the symbolism of Hallow’s End should apply to any Forsaken. The Darkfallen are outcasts like you, like all of us here in the grand scheme of things. None of us asked to become undead and dwell in the Shadow, but here we are, embracing it.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t killed and raised by people who are now just walking around you.”

Zala didn’t mean for it to sound harsh when that fact didn’t make her as distressed as it probably should have – the exceptions were for Banshee loyalists who might yet hide in public, as well as her fear of orcs. Being around orcs would take time to get used to, and she was glad that the Cult rarely visited Orgrimmar. Zala couldn’t claim to see eye to eye with those who might recall Teldrassil at the sight of the wickerman, who might bemoan their undeath, when her own life had ironically become better after she died. She knew she was an outlier, and this was a bigger deal for others who lived as night elves.

Lafayette took more time to give her another response. He didn't seem upset, nor did he reach out to try and reassure her. This wasn’t something he could relate to, and she believed that he respected their differences. Or he was anxious, which was just as likely.

“You’re right,” he said, “how does it make you feel? What are you thinking of?”

Urged to keep on digging, Zala groaned at what she had to do. She was never good at identifying her feelings, instead suppressing them under anger until it swamped her and she broke down. Their mentor taught them to face and utilize their emotions, but Zala often struggled and backed out before she might start screaming. It was dangerous for someone who embraced the Shadow to lose control, as they risked falling into the Void below it. She sat down with her back thumping against a sign post behind her, and Lafayette knelt down nearby.

“I’m not like most of you guys–... like other Forsaken, or other Darkfallen. I don't know if they miss Kalimdor, or what they feel about Elune.” She frowned at her own conclusion. “That pain I already felt ages ago. I should relate to them if they feel it now, right?”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable. Have you asked them how they feel?” Lafayette’s tone was as compassionate as ever. “There must be reasons why they’re with us, and why they chose to attend the ceremony tonight. You didn’t stay with the rangers for very long, so you wouldn't know if you don't talk to them, right?”

Zala felt a knot in her dead stomach, and it wasn’t from eating candy. Shunned, criticized, belittled. Discarded for being nothing but a burden, a pest, a mistake. It always ended that way, so she hid from confrontations before it happened. She hid from most of the Forsaken, from the Darkfallen, from the rest of the Horde. She hid from the Alliance, from the Kaldorei, from the goddess who never heard her pleading. The Cult would reach that point with her some day, like everyone else did, and she would be alone again.

“I’m afraid of rejection.”

“I don’t reject you.” Lafayette reached out, but didn’t touch her yet. “You don’t mean to disrespect if you approach with good intentions to connect… and you can always apologize if it doesn’t go as planned. Me and our other Siblings in the Shadow, we’re here to fall back to.”

“They always reject me! They’re going to think I’m annoying and loud, and… I’m making all of this about myself when it was supposed to be a celebration for everyone!” The knot in her stomach grew and she bent up her knees.

“You won’t know if you don’t try, right?”

“Stop asking me all these stupid questions!”

Lafayette flinched when she snapped at him, and Zala froze. She did it again. He’s going to pull away and leave her out here until she’s become exhausted from wailing, and comes back home with her tail between her legs. How many chances did she have before she was cast out from yet another home?

“I’m sorry,” Lafayette said, “I want to help you, but I can only do so much when this is unique to you as an elf. If it’s frightening to approach the rangers, I can go with you if you want. They’re not as scary as they seem, just reserved.”

Zala was still stiff as a board, her red eyes wide, long ears tilted up.

“What if they recognize me? Will they want me there after I ditched them?”

“They might ask about it. I will support whatever you want to do, and like I said, they’re reserved when they're a minority within a minority. Don’t take it personally if they seem cold.” Lafayette then gestured to himself. “Besides, I’m also curious about the ones who were night elves. Having you next to me would ease my own jitters.”

“Because we’re bigger and stronger than you?”

“Yes.”

"I can throw you over the wall if I feel like it."

"Yes, I know. Please don't do that." He cleared his throat, and finally placed his bone hand on her arm. "Zala, you know more about their circumstances than I do, and we could help each other.”

Even when she yelled at him, he was still kind to her. Zala wondered if was sincere, or if he did it out of fear; Lafayette was known to do both to de-escalate any tension he’s part of. Either way, it worked to pacify her, and she knew deep down that what she wanted was connection, which was what he offered to her. Zala rested her arms over her knees. She looked him over; this skinny dead human, who would fall if you clapped his shoulder too hard, who spoke to her like he would take an arrow for her. He smiled, black eye sockets creasing at the sides; there were no eyeballs left in his skull, but he always saw her when she came to him.

“I just want to know why they chose to stay here,” she finally said, “if they felt forgotten by Elune, like I was my entire life.”

“If they also felt… Forsaken?”

“Yeah!” Zala grinned. “Except you are all small and slow, and don’t even have any fangs or claws to climb with.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be short for a night elf?”

She could have hissed at him if she were in a feisty mood, but Zala just cackled. It was so rare that he fired back at her teasing, and her reaction seemed to please him in turn. The racket up in the courtyard had calmed down, but the wickerman was still burning. Zala got up and offered Lafayette a hand to spare his creaky joints the effort. They faced the hill leading up to the gates, him waiting for her to decide, and her decision was to check with him first.

“We could do the branch thing,” she said as they began walking uphill, “and burn up bad memories. Also do the ashes.”

“I would like that. They’re serving drinks after, and there are buckets of candy around if you can stomach any more.”

“As long as food is free I can always eat more!” Zala patted her stomach. “The question is if you can before I get everything.”

“Oh, no, I can't,” he laughed, “I don’t have a whole stomach left. More for you, Sister.”

#world of warcraft #undead #forsaken #darkfallen #undead night elf #character: zala #character: lafayette #hallow's end #kott writes #aka I try to make a nelf darkfallen concept that works #meanwhile the others are still ???? to both me and her #either way I love her and him they are my darlings

83 notes · View notes

acourtofkindness · 8 months ago

Text

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

A Ballad of Thorns & Roses: How the High Lord of Spring told his Tale (Feylin/Tamcien)

by @positivelyruined When Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court of Prythian, finds the clock counting down to his final battle with Amarantha — two things push him into action: the sudden death and bloody sacrifice of his friend Andras and the fierce vexation of his close friend Lucien. With no more time to waste, he offers shelter to the one person that he should despise the most — the girl who murdered Andras. His heart has been bleeding for a decade. Will their connection be enough to break the bond that holds the Spring Court captive, or will this burning love only spurn Tamlin’s heart? In this tale as old as time, only time will tell.

Spirit Meets the Bones (Eris x OC)

by @lucienarcheron Eris and Iris. Son of a high lord. Daughter of a fiend. An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be.

To Dust Or To Gold (Neris)

by @queercontrarian Eris calls in his bargain with Rhysand: he wants Nesta to join him in the Autumn Court to help him in his scheme to bring down his father.

Flame of Autumn (Eris x OC)

by @climbthemountain2020 "He quashed his hope like a bug beneath his heel. They would meet, marry, and produce a child. How hard could it possibly be to copulate and wash his hands of it? It’s not like he hadn’t regularly found release in the hundreds of years of living. This one would just be attached to him a bit more legally." Eris Vanserra is forced into a marriage with a magic-less daughter of Autumn from a strong bloodline. Despite his best efforts to remain apathetic, the universe has other plans.

A Court of Threads & Daises (Lucien x Tamlin)

by @shi-daisy Tragedy almost struck the Spring Court when Tamlin Evergreen tried to take his own life. Lucien Vanserra manages to save his former Lord, but not his power. Now that the Spring Court has a new High Lord and the horrors of war are behind them, both Tamlin and Lucien agree to help the new heir navigate court life and attempt to rebuild the broken Spring Court, along with healing themselves. They weren't expecting to fall back in love in the process.

A Court of Song and Desolation (Tamlin x Lucien)

by @achaotichuman With his Court in ruins and everyone gone, Tamlin lives amongst the broken pieces of his Court and has no intentions of changing that. Lucien, however, will not stand to leave his oldest friend alone. When Lucien takes Tamlin back to the human lands, they discover a darkness coming for Prythian. If something does not stop it, it will completely rewrite the way Faeries and humans alike live as they know it.

Of Hearts and Swords (Feysand, Nessian, Manorian, Quinlar, etc.)

by @QueenofNightmares (on ao3) 5 years have passed since Bryce Quinlan fought the Asteri—and lost. 5 years since the Horn in her back was then used to permanently open the gates between worlds. Midgard, Erilea, and Prythian are now in open war--the reunited Fae of each world working together to fight the Asteri. But much has changed in the war-ravaged years that have passed. The Crochan Witchclan fights alongside the Valkyries. Hunt Athalar has sought day and night for a way to bring Bryce back from the dead and end this war. And the beloved High Lady of the Night Court--Feyre Archeron-- left Prythian for Erilea, just after their Inner Circle was cleaved apart forever by a newcomer. As war rages on, the Asteri have found an unlikely ally in Prythian--one that might turn the fortunes of battle against the Fae. This is an alternate ending to CC3 (HOFAS) where the Asteri win. Bryce was killed in the conflict that followed and the Horn in her back was then used to permanently open the gates. It will follow each of the main character ships (Feysand, Nessian, Rowaelin, Lysaedion, Manorian, Quinlar, etc.) as well as introduce some new ones for some other beloved characters (Azriel, Fenrys). Lots of relationship angst with a happy ending.

Flame of Autumn (Eris x OC)

by @climbthemountain2020 Eris Vanserra is forced into a marriage with a magic-less daughter of Autumn from a strong bloodline. Despite his best efforts to remain apathetic, the universe has other plans.

Beyond (Helion x LoA)

by @areyoudreaminof The Lady of Autumn has agreed to come live at the Day Court, though she seems hesitant. Can Helion convince her that she belongs at his side?

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #helion x loa #feysand #nessian #quinlar #neris #feylin #tamcien #acosf #acotar

22 notes · View notes

bluestarlett · 2 months ago

Text

[(I'd like to know why you are all alone while I'm lost at sea.)]

[(There's a still tension in the swell, so given to the vast receiving emptiness of time.

Beyond, beyond

I'd like to know why you are all alone while I...

You're unsure if I am A loose end or a strand That waits for you to mend or understand.)]

591 words. Psyche is here

‘And that day, as the Sun withered away into nothing but ash,

the light of the moon followed in tandem,

leaving nothing but cold, loveless emptiness,

where light should have been.’

Seraph stirred lightly, water rippling playfully beneath his cold fingers as they flitted along its surface, a weak sigh escaping his parted lips. A deep emptiness made itself known inside of him as he weakly pulled himself to his feet, gliding across the water with little grace as he trembled lightly.

In the midst of his melancholy, a disembodied voice echoed, its tone featureless and silent—nothing but a fleeting thought in his head. ‘Where are you going?’ it trilled softly. Icarus paused, looking about curiously.

‘Down.’

Seraph’s gaze flitted curiously to the crystalline water below his own two feet, and there, amidst the haunting stillness, his gaze intersected with that of another's.

"Macaria," he breathed, a semblance of relief coursing through his veins, his voice tainted with a devastating kind of grief. For once, the presence of the Vulture seemed forgiving. Charon's curious gaze shifted from his, and Qamar could tell they were falling apart as its pale, cosmically kissed skin cracked like porcelain, a reminder of the harm brought by the hand of the Universe. Pathos fidgeted anxiously as the still silence began to grow unbearably loud.

“I’m not sure.” He forced himself to speak. “Just… somewhere. Home doesn’t feel like… home, if that makes sense.”

…

The voice of Psyche resounded within his mind, thundering and yet as delicate as a whisper. ‘Nowhere will feel like home. Your home is gone, and we both know it,’ Charon reminded him, dark gaze piercing his own. Perhaps, despite the anguish it caused---though there was no malice behind its words---Artem had to admit that it was true.

The blood of his light, everything he’d loved, was on his own hands.

…

“I know.” Icarus shifted anxiously, water fluttering below his feet. “I just… I can’t be around Asteria. I know she despises me, and…”

A single drop of water sliced through the air, brutally shattering the silence. More followed suit. Juno crumbled, his once divine form now reduced to a broken heap. His mournful cries echoed into oblivion, futile yearning for a love that he had killed with his own two hands. Meaningless words spilled from his lips, an empty prayer for a distant bliss that had faded along with the light it brought.

Apollo's gaze descended upon Icarus' fractured figure, wracked with despair and longing. Their own ethereal form glided weightlessly across the water, while the stars whispered secrets in their ear, as if waiting for the world to bloom anew.

The water below was clear. Empty.

And it was just Seraph, alone, in a cold, serenely silent void, his tears amounting to nothing in the face of the endless ocean below. The moon in the sky shied away into the darkness of the cosmos, as if mourning something it would never hold again.

Saturn parted their lips, and yet nothing but a low, haunting rattle tore through the desolate silence of space and time as their words went unheard.

Time dragged on, halting for none as the world around blurred between dream and reality. Icarus rose wearily from his crumpled state, dried trails of tears haunting his face. His tired eyes reflected only emptiness, and Mind stood helplessly by, unable to alter the course of his drifting away, and they sat in empty silence, their life having long faded, only pain racking through whatever form they held now.

#I’m always going to justify the inaccuracies within this fic by saying #I wrote this fic after watching one of the most important people in my family dying.#Criticize me for anything else but hold your tongue about this one please.#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cj heart #cj mind #cj psyche #<tagging it as a cj character cause I can #chonny's charming cosmic confluence

8 notes · View notes

bimsha · 2 years ago

Text

Series : 100 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Inspired by: 100 ways to say I love you

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

I Was In The Neighborhood

Pairing: Rindo Haitani x Reader

Tags: lovers, rain, fluff, powercuts, thunder, falling in love all over again

Tw: cursing

Word count: 1.6k

Note: Guess who's back! My writing has gotten a little rusty. Idk if people are still into TR. Let's see I guess <3 I'd continue if people read these anymore or else I'd move onto something else probably.

---

The howling wind slapped past the quiet streets of Shibuya. You looked out the windows, the gloom welcomed you save for the solitary street light flickering on and off, trying to survive through the tortuous summer storm. You sighed, pulling down the shades, closing off the desolate world outside. The weather reports had warned all the citizens in Shibuya to stay indoors and take cover. And you could see why, this storm was one of the worst ones you’ve seen in a while.

The shades didn’t block the howling of the wind or the clutter of rain. You ignored it as you walked to your kitchenette to make a small dinner. The earlier you go to bed, the better it is. You were not sure how much sleep you could get tonight. But at least you can try to get some decent sleep.

You searched aimlessly through your drawers, hoping to find some decent ingredients that wouldn’t give you diarrhoea. In the next moment, the dim-lit kitchen glowed with a strike of sudden light, a moment later, the sky growled, piercing the quiet night of Shibuya with its force. To add flavour to the surprise, next, the lights went out.

You stood in the middle of your kitchen, one hand hovering over the air, the other still inside the pocket of your hoodie as you waited for the comforting light to flood back any moment. Realising your fruitless attempt, you crossed your living room, peeking through the blinds to see the sea of darkness outside. The whole street was wallowing in darkness save for the flashes of occasional light of lightning.

You frowned, your eyes tracing the edges of your furniture, looking as if they would come alive at any moment.

Did I even have any candles? You thought, turning on the flashlight of your phone as you shuffled through your drawers only to discover an empty box of candles, only the scent of wax clinging to the cardboard. “Well, shit.”

You momentarily wandered heading straight to your bedroom but your stomach growled in protest, reminding you of your lunch which was a granola bar before you ran into your next class. You let your mind wander, trying to distract yourself from hunger. You had come to the decision that you would eat when the power came back. Till then, you could sit on your aged sofa and think.

You didn’t get much time to stop by and think these days anyways.

But a knock on the door drove you back to the situation. There was one thing more eerie than facing a storm alone in your apartment with a black out, it was facing a storm alone in your apartment with a black out and you hear a knock on your front door.

That is how horror movies always start, doesn’t it?

You stayed glued to your sofa, straining to hear the knock again. Have you imagined it? You frowned when another knock followed and this time a voice called out. You could barely hear the words through the storm outside. But your heart picked up pace as you reached the baseball bat you kept in the coat cupboard. Inching towards the door, you strained to hear a sound when again a muffled voice said, “Y/n, it’s me, Rin.”

You blinked, oh shi-

You turned the lock and threw the door open to see a half-soaked Rindo standing on your doorstep. The storm was raging and flakes of water carried by the brutal wind attacked your face as you took his arm and dragged him inside. He was still looking at the baseball bat in your hand. “What are you doing with that?”

“I thought it was a thief! Gods’ sake Rin, you're not supposed to be here today.”

“You don’t like me being here?” He asked, smiling teasingly as he dropped the plastic bag he was carrying to the counter as he took off his coat.

“You told me you have a meeting today.”

He shrugged, “It got cancelled, and I was in the neighbourhood. So…”

Despite the light banter, relief took over your heart. You were glad to see him, ecstatic even. You had never been a big fan of the darkness, and it didn’t seem as if the storm was going to let out anytime soon. “Do you have any candles Y/n?” He asked, walking to you, standing disoriented in the living room.

“I don’t think I have.”

A sigh echoed from where he was standing. “Don’t give me the parental disappointment stare,” You chided, trying to manoeuvre your way to your sofa.

“You can’t even see me!”

“But I can feel you,” You said. The two of you were on the opposite side of the room, screaming over the sound of the rain. You listened intently to hear any footsteps when he shone the flashlight of his phone on your face. You hissed, averting your gaze. Rindo chuckled.

“There you are, I brought food. Let’s eat.”

You peered into the plastic bag he brought as you two sat around the small table in the living room. Rindo balanced his phone on one side of the table before taking out two steaming cooked noodles. You knew the label, it was from the shop down the road. “I thought I was going to starve tonight.”

Rindo raised his brow, “Well, you don’t even have candles here.”

“Stop with the candles.”

“I will speak about candles in our marriage itself.”

“Is that a proposal?”

Rindo choked on his food and started coughing. You burst out laughing as you slid the water bottle across the table to him. After several gulps, he leaned back with a heavy sigh when thunder rumbled overhead. “Jesus christ,” Rindo muttered under his breath, picking up his chopsticks.

You both ate in silence for a while, when a strike of lightning illuminated the living followed by thunder. You dropped your chopsticks, startled. “Son of a bitch-”

Rindo reached across the table, “Language, m’lady.” His fingers caressed your skin as you blinked out the panic. It was not that you’re scared of thunder, but sometimes the screams of heaven took you off guard.

You laced your fingers against his, holding onto his hand tight as the assault of the sky continued. Rindo gave it a comforting squeeze. “You alright?”

You nodded at him, “Yeah. But I’d prefer if the light came back.” True to your words, the lights flickered on. You looked at Rindo with dramatic surprise on your face.

“What sorcery is this?” Rindo chuckled.

“I’ve always told you I’m an undercover witch trying to have revenge against all humanity,” You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes, standing as he picked up the two empty bowls, walking to the kitchen. You followed like a lost kitten not wanting to be far apart in case the lights flickered back out. He didn’t comment on this, instead welcomed the warmth as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he washed them. You listened to his breathing, the soft material of his sweater comforting against your skin. “I’ve missed you,” You murmured as Rindo wiped his hands on a clean towel.

“I’ve missed you too. Sorry I’ve been a bit busy with work.”

“It’s alright,” You said when he turned leaning back against the counter, just looking at you. You remembered how when you first started dating people were sceptical how long it would go on. Rindo was not someone who liked to be committed, someone who would give up everything for a life of two. But surpassing all the expectations there they were, dating for two years, his hands on each of your cheeks, looking as if you’re the only girl left on this very earth.

“Let’s go back. Movie while cuddling?” He suggested. You smiled nodding.

“Sounds like a perfect night for me.”

He leaned over, and kissed your ear, whispering. “Of course it can be.”

You flushed, swatting at him as he jumped out of your way with a loud laugh. He walked towards the corridor. “I’m going to use the washroom. Stay there.”

You nodded, sitting on the cold kitchen counter when his cell phone rang out its familiar tune. You peered to see Ran’s number flashing on his lockscreen. You answered the phone with a chirpy hello. Ran and you had been partners in crime for these two years. It was a bonus of dating Rindo.

“Hello, Y/n! Did Rin reach there safely? God knows what was going on in my mind when he just stood from the meeting and decided to drive all the way through.”

“What do you mean he drove all the way? Wasn’t he in the neighbourhood?”

Ran let out a confused sound. “Uh… no? Am I busting one of his lies?”

“Probably-”

“Shit.”

“Shit,” You agreed as Rann mustered a half-baked apology hanging up.

“Who was that?” Rindo asked, walking into the kitchen. He had changed his sweater to one of the t-shirts he kept here for emergencies.

You placed the phone on the counter and launched yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gave him a teasing smile. “Seems as if you were not in the neighbourhood after all.”

A rare flush spread through his cheeks as he held onto you for balance. “Ran?”

“Uh huh.”

He averted his gaze, his fingers tightening around your waist. “I heard people were having a power cut here, so…” He trailed off.

“I love you,” You said in return. He blinked in surprise when you caught his lips in a kiss. Both of you stumbled back against the wall as you two kissed, hands exploring each other.

When you finally parted his cheeks were fully flushed, but a grin had taken over his face. “I guess we’ll have to skip the movie after all.”

#tokyo rev #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers #tr #tokyo rev x y/n #haitani rindo x reader #haitani brothers #haitani ran #haitani rindou #haitani x reader #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers one #tokyo revengers oneshot #tokyo rev x reader #lovr #love #tokyo rev fluff

175 notes · View notes

mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 11 months ago

Text

Pieces of us

I'm still suffering over beefleaf if yall were curious.

Inspired by NF-Wait

"If you've come here to laugh at my misfortune, feel free to do so, I'll laugh with you!" Shi Qingxuan says cheerfully as he sinks a load of laundry into the cold water of a patchy wooden basin, the off-white robes looking nothing like the kind he used to wear not too long ago. They appear simple and modest, more likely hand-me-downs from the people living in those slums - had the Shi Qingxuan of the past been forced to wear them, he would have wept at the mere sight.

But it seems as though he's grown accustomed to his new lifestyle. He's sat atop the one step in front of his shoddy house, the basin between his legs as he works, and had He Xuan not known anything about him, he would have never guessed this to have been the former Wind Master.

But then again, had anybody looked at him as well, donning black robes and a blank expression, they probably would not have guessed him to be Black Water Sinking Ships either.

Appearances are deceiving.

"I have not come to laugh at you." He Xuan finds his voice at last, monotone and inexpressive. He does not elaborate on the reason that he has come, though, largely because he does not have one.

At least, not one he is able and willing to admit out loud.

"Then what brings the great Black Water Demon Xuan here?" Shi Qingxuan asks just as cheerfully, standing up to shake water off the robes he had been washing.

He Xuan does not respond. Shi Qingxuan does not seem to mind him standing by the little gate to his cottage, so he lets the silence stretch for longer.

When Shi Qingxuan limps to hang the robes on the clothesline, He Xuan looks away with something dangerously close to shame in his eyes.

"You've been...well?" He Xuan asks and berates himself mentally immediately after. What kind of question is that? A life on the dregs of society, disabled and void of spiritual energy could in no way be good, try as one might. He feels ridiculous for having asked, for even being here in the first place.

He wants to leave and yet his feet won't move.

"I've seen better days." Shi Qingxuan laughs, but in the crystalline sounds the hint of regret is damning, "But life goes on."

Does it? He Xuan wants to ask but he doesn't find it in himself to.

"I do miss being able to shift into a female form, though." Shi Qingxuan continues, "I'd always been more comfortable that way, but it's not like there's spiritual energy laying around to be used."

He Xuan looks away again, trying to find something to think about other than...what happened. But the more he stares at the impoverished landscape bordering the grandiose capital, the more he feels an almost-guilt, almost-regret.

And almost-yearning.

Shi Qingxuan limps to hang up a surprisingly pristine bedsheet in the sun to dry. He Xuan must admit that, despite the decrepitude of Shi Qingxuan's current abode, everything appears as orderly and clean as possibly can, giving the house an air of nobility even in such a desolate place.

"Either way," Shi Qingxuan says, "If you're here just for a visit, I'm sorry to say that this host is rather modest, I've only some cheap wine and stew leftovers to treat you with."

"No need. I will not stay for a meal."

A look of surprise (almost concern) passes Shi Qingxuan's features. "No? How come?"

"I am not...hungry."

"Since when are you not hungry?" Shi Qingxuan laughs, "Are you ill? You used to always be munching on something wherever we hung out! Looking back, I should've definitely seen the signs!"

The humorous tone of the other settles into He Xuan's heart like a thousand swords, so striking that he flinches imperceptibly as he hears them.

Spending time with Shi Qingxuan feels like a thing of a bygone past, a memory from lifetimes away - almost as if it had not been He Xuan there by the Wind Master's side, entirely dissassociated.

He will never be able to call any of those memories his own - they did not belong to him, He Xuan, but to Ming Yi, a mask, a fraud - but he does revisit them sometimes.

(Which is why he has locked up Shi Wudu's head in a small corner of his cellar instead of placing it in the main hall of his palace as he'd initially intended - the satisfaction of revenge always seemed to be overshadowed by Shi Qingxuan's screams ringing in his ears, haunting him like a wrathful ghost that could never be apprehended).

Shi Qingxuan drags his broken foot through the dirt, limp as the arm that hangs at his side, immobile. The small yard is surprisingly well-maintained, but the earth is nevertheless rocky, and Shi Qingxuan trips onto a small, sharp stone, a yelp leaving his lips.

He Xuan moves before he knows it and catches Shi Qingxuan right as he was about to hit the ground.

It feels both foreign and familiar to find himself holding the other in his arms, like revisiting your home town after a century only to realize everything has changed and not even the people you knew are there anymore.

He Xuan locks eyes with Shi Qingxuan, though, and he knows he's still there, the one that He Xuan knows, the one that He Xuan...

Shi Qingxuan rights himself and smiles sheepishly as he disentangles himself from He Xuan's embrace. "Sorry about that, it seems that god or mortal, I am inevitably clumsy. I really need to ask for help to get rid of all of these stones one of these days, I keep tripping-"

"Qingxuan."

He Xuan's voice is level and firm, almost like a warning but in reality, a plea.

Shi Qingxuan understands and shuts up, looking towards He Xuan with an unreadable expression, a mix of emotions in his eyes. He had been trying to act casual, but the slight tremble in his fingers had given him away easily. Whether the tremors were from fear or anger, it was hard to say.

"The past is the past." Shi Qingxuan begins, tone unusually level. "It cannot be changed or altered. One must accept the hand that has been dealt to them... sooner or later." He sighs, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "This is how it was always meant to be."

He Xuan looks at the former Wind Master, at the beauty and refinement of his features, at the broken limbs, at his modest livelihood, at the way that, despite it all, he persists.

The sky turns dark and droplets fall from the sky, slowly then all at once. Shi Qingxuan curses at the heavens as he struggles to save his freshly washed laundry.

A pair of deft hands and quick feet join him silently.

The pitter patter of the rain fills the silence as they take shelter in the small hut.

On a small table, the Windmaster fan rests like a centerpiece. Dust has gathered on the fine handle.

#tgcf #beefleaf #sqx #hx #writing attempts

17 notes · View notes

rosieathearthside · 2 months ago

Text

Concept Story: *insert_future_book_name_here*

I don't know, man. This might be spun into something bigger someday, but for now, enjoy the drabble. XD (Wattpad link here!) ----------------------------------------------------

Too long, people have mused upon the moment man realised his purpose. Where did he first breathe life into the desolate corners of Mother Earth? When did the others of his kind rejoice at the sight of their reflection in the lake? Questions scream, yet answers are shied down to a mere whisper...if they even be at all.

Yes, we ask when, but hardly ever how. Oh, there are theories abundant as the light's harvest that point towards science and evolution and the like. But these are all the purest form of poppycock. Hypocritical, nonsensical...and, when presented by the average "history-man," quite boorish.

But I have a wonderful tale, one much more fantastical and engaging than all of this, I promise this to you. And its very heart and soul lies in the stars that are the subject of so many's waking wonder. Listen not to any man who speaks a tale of contradiction; they have never been among those fortunate enough to be graced with the love and light of creative muse.

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know? It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats.

When one gazes to the northwest during twilight, they will find three stars, resting in the shape of a prism. They are all that is left of what was once a mere corpse, a shell of what was once wasted potential, left to rest six feet under the ground. But our gracious creator gave him another chance at life, if he swore by his own blood to breathe purpose into the lost people of Earth. They needed love, he was told, and a sense of gumption beyond the mere crumbs of what had been laid before them.

And so he did. And oh, life was beautiful. Everywhere his love could be found glimmered bright as gold. Even the worst of the lost began to see hints of light, deep from the depths of their mind's abyss. And though it took longer for some than others, Mother Earth's lost children began to heal, and find an individual purpose to channel through the wisdom of their risen messenger.

When it came time for our creator to join his aching bones to the powder of the dirt one last time, the memory of the message-man lived on in the people's minds for many years...but, alas, it was not for nearly long enough to do him justice. Five or six decades after he passed, one group- merely a trickle at its birth, but still enough to scatter the light- spread like a wave gone rogue all through the earth. "What do we idolise that old prophet for, anyway?" This was their battle-chant, one they screamed all the way to the bitter, sorrow-blinded end. "He was nothing more than a common salesman, profiting off of the misery of our mothers and fathers for his name to be cast in gold! We are men, are we not? We are capable of everything he rose to and more, no one to clasp onto all the way!"

...And so is the state of our world. His only lasting memory can be found in the sky now, where our creator made that starry prism in his honour. Or...is it, as I like to imagine, the gleam in his eyes that shines so bright in our sky? Is he watching, waiting for-

"Foolish girl, how many times do I have to tell you-!! What are you doing up here again? And with metal to be mended, no less!"

This strange, lovely girl, with her stolen parchment and quill, shoved the letters of her labour under her pallet-bed before the boss-woman could catch her ink-handed.

...Goodness, the fire in her elder's eyes was enough to make her fist her hands white behind her dress.

"Girl, get downstairs this instant! Lazing around like this, what were you thinking? You've got quite a bit of lost time to answer for; I'll tell you that much."

"...Yes'm. Yes, ma'am; I'll be right down."

...The embers burned long after the storm left.

The youngster looked towards her pallet one last time, where the papers were...well enough concealed. For now. She'd have to put them in her spot later, before the boss-woman (or anyone else) poked their nose where it wasn't wanted.

Or needed.

...She knew her stories were nothing more than a figment of the imagination. She knew that. Trying to sell them off as reality was something she couldn't even imagine doing...but. Her inner people begged to laugh. To cry. To speak. In a science-stifled world, she sighed as she walked down the creaky stairs, was it such a crime to let your mind wander to the stars?

They have doused my light for too long. But don't they know?

Right before the light broke from the parlour downstairs, she rubbed the ink on her palms into oblivion with a flourish...and a smile.

It is impossible to douse the mind if the heart still beats.

---------------------------------------------------- - Thanks for reading!! - Suggestions aren't just appreciated; they're encouraged.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #ros!e's having a stroke again #oh no

4 notes · View notes

lgbtqmanga · 7 months ago

Text

New Releases July 9, 2024

Delinquent Daddy and Tender Teacher (manga) vol. 4: Four-Leaf Clovers by Tama Mizuki

Hitsuji and Hatoyama are growing closer than ever. And while Hitsuji may not have been ready to take the leap into cohabitating, he’s determined to support Hatoyama and his son Hinata however he can. And boy, it looks like they’re gonna need it! With Hinata still struggling to form a connection with his new teacher, Samejima, and Hatoyama working himself to the bone to save up money for a bigger place, things are on the stressful side for this little family. It’s up to Hitsuji to lend a hand and find the courage to show Hatoyama just how much he cares for him!

Engage (manga) vol. 2 by Yuu Minaduki

Mei has decided to put a lid on his infatuation with Naru and build a new relationship as nephew and uncle. However, every time Naru speaks fondly of his memories of his older brother—Mei’s late father—he feels a disturbance in his heart. Meanwhile, Hayashida, the freelance writer who’s been snooping around Mei, finally reveals his true nature!

My Dearest Patrolman (manga) vol. 1 by Niyama

When a young patrolman gets assigned to a small town, he runs into an old acquaintance, and a casual comment from the older man leads to a fluttering heart and renewed feelings. Seiji Tajima runs a convenience store in a small town, and thanks to his easygoing attitude toward much of life, he’s still single. Tall, muscular patrolman Shin Nakamoto is a frequent visitor to Seiji’s rather desolate shop, and although the two met ten years earlier, they only recently reconnected after Shin was assigned to the police box nearby. Despite the years apart, they start interacting like nothing has changed—that is, until Seiji offhandedly remarks that maybe he should try his luck with men, unwittingly restoking the flame Shin has held for him for years!

Otherside Picnic: (novel) Omnibus vol. 4 by Iori Miyazawa and shirakaba

Contains the Complete Volumes 7-8 Satsuki Uruma—a young woman of considerable importance to Toriko who disappeared while studying the Otherside. She has menaced Toriko and Sorawo many times as an apparition, but now, she makes her boldest move yet towards the latter. In an act of desperation, Sorawo resolves to use everything she knows about the occult to finally “exorcize” her. Enlisting the help of not just Toriko, but Kozakura, DS Research, and even former cult leader and high schooler Runa Urumi, Sorawo leads the charge on a funeral operation. But once that’s behind them, there’s something else Sorawo must face; a genuine confession of love from Toriko, with only one week to respond. Through a series of conversations with herself and those around her, Sorawo begins to reinterpret their relationship… Sorawo and Toriko’s bizarre tale of exploration and survival is coming to a climax!

Otherside Picnic (manga) vol. 10 by Iori Miyazawa, Eita Mizuno, and Shirakaba

As Toriko and Sorawo face off against a bizarre entity in the form of what appears to be an old woman, this Kano Sannuki may be one of their trickiest challenges yet! Can Sorawo come up with a plan to disarm this strange foe? Meanwhile, the specter of Satsuki Uruma continues to stalk the two girls! And when the name “Lunaurumi” begins to pop up online, it signals the start of the biggest threat they’ve ever had to face!

Thousand Autumns: Qian Qiu Special Editon (novel) volume 5 by Meng Xi Shi

contains the Standard Edition contents, but includes bonus merchandise shrink-wrapped to the book: a set of five postcards, a double-sided bookmark, two folded mini posters, and a sticker sheet.

In the tumultuous Central Plains, power and prestige are fleeting, and today’s friend is tomorrow’s foe—and Shen Qiao is in the eye of the storm. Following a daring rescue in the midst of a coup that marks the end of a dynasty, the mild-mannered Daoist has no time to rest as rumors of a power struggle call him home to Xuandu Mountain. But before he even reaches his destination, another whisper upon the wind cuts into Shen Qiao’s heart: Yan Wushi, not yet fully recovered from his damaged demonic core, has challenged Hulugu of the Göktürks to a battle from which only one will survive. Shen Qiao will need to call upon his martial arts and wits to survive the calamity that surrounds him, but when the dust settles, will what he holds dear still remain? FINAL VOLUME

#lgbt manga #queer manga #manga #new releases #light novels

9 notes · View notes

4littlefishies · 10 months ago

Text

The 36th Floor - See You At 8

satoru gojo x suguru geto

warnings: none

wc: 4.5k

previous chapter here

note: after this chapter, something happened inside me and i started writing 10k word chapters, so this is the last of the "shorter" ones, if you will :)

The entirety of January is full of working on projects to get ready for the upcoming conference. The first two weeks are busy as they always are at the beginning of a new year, but the closer they get to leaving for the trip, tensions slowly start to rise.

Satoru starts showing up early and leaving work late in order to finish up everything on the correct deadlines. He notices dark circles starting to form under his eyes come the last week of the month. “Just a couple more days, Shi.” Satoru says, looking down at Shiro as he adjusts his tie, ready to head off to work. He’s leaving an hour earlier than he normally would in order to have some time in the office to himself to work without being bothered by anyone. “At least we’re almost done.” He huffs to himself in the mirror before grabbing his keys and wallet and throwing his bag over his shoulder before he heads out the door.

He puts his headphones in as he heads down to the lobby. He’s leaving so early in the morning that the lobby is desolate, the sidewalks are barren, and the train is nearly empty. The sun hasn’t even come over the horizon by the time the train makes it to his stop. He finds himself unable to think about anything other than work; What details he needs to add into the presentation; what details he needs to take out; how he can portray the data in the most effective way to get the point across.

Satoru quickly makes it to the office and pulls open the door to the lobby, right away noticing the lack of people that are normally there. He heads towards the elevator and quickly gets in, not having to wait for anyone else. After pressing the 36 button, he grabs his keycard to the office out of his bag and watches the numbers on the display steadily rise until it finally reaches his floor. The doors open to the hallway, dark from lack of movement.

The lights flick on as he steps out of the elevator, making Satoru squint his eyes at the harsh bright lights now irking him. He uses his keycard to unlock the door, pulling it open once he hears the click of the lock mechanism unlocking itself. He steps into the darkened office as the lights come to life around him. Letting out a tired sigh, he makes his way into the area that holds his, Shoko, and Suguru’s cubicles.

Satoru sets down his bag on top of his desk before taking his headphones out and puts them back in the case before sitting down in his chair, wiggling his mouse to get his computer to turn on. He sighs again as he sets his chin in his palm, checking his emails from the day before that had come in after he left for the evening. He looks at his calendar, planning out his day around the things that he needed to get finished first.

Grabbing a pen from the cup next to his monitors, he writes out a sticky note to plan out what he’ll do and when. He’s not in his chair for longer than 10 minutes before he hears the sound of another set of footsteps coming down the hallway. He doesn’t even turn to see who it is until the footsteps turn and walk into the small area of cubicles, now causing Satoru to look and see who’s here so early.

“How long have you been here?” He hears Suguru ask as he turns around. A smile makes its way onto his face as he hears the familiar voice. Satoru lets out a soft chuckle and looks down at his watch as Suguru sets his bag down on his desk before taking a seat in his own chair.

“Not too long.” Satoru responds, looking over at Suguru who’s now facing his own computer and turning it on. The two of them have been so busy with getting ready for the conference that they’ve barely been able to talk about anything other than work for the past weeks. Neither of them have any time to think about it with all of the work they each have on their plates. Nanami keeps giving Satoru more and more to get finished before they head out on Friday, and Suguru is just as swamped, trying to help out.

Both of them sit at their own computers, typing and reading away. Time quickly passes and eventually, people start showing up at the normal time for work. Just before 9am, Shoko enters, sitting down quietly at her desk for a moment before she speaks up.

“I don’t like when you guys are quiet like this. It’s weird.” Shoko says, looking between the two of her friends. They don’t look up at her as they’re both intently focused on their work.

“Sorry, Sho, just super busy getting ready for this conference.” Suguru responds, already sounding tired of working for the day. He continues clicking away, sending emails to different departments in order to get all the paperwork he needs before they leave. Satoru doesn’t say a word as he listens to the conversation, wishing he could talk for even a moment, but he knows that he’ll get distracted if he lets that happen.

Satoru and Suguru hadn’t talked about anything other than work in what felt like months, but in reality it was only about two weeks. Once the projects started getting heavier, time to talk about anything else became few and far between.

The further that they get into the hectic week, the more time seems to run together. Monday seeps into Tuesday which then bleeds into Wednesday. Before they know it, it’s 3pm on Thursday afternoon. Satoru finds himself thinking about how he hadn’t been to the cafe with Suguru, let alone even by himself in over two weeks. The most they see each other is at their final meeting Thursday afternoon.

“Alright, so that’s your schedule for the three days that you’re going to be there.” Nanami says with his hands clapped on the table in front of him. “Ijichi has all of your flight and hotel details, so I’ll let him go over that with you.” He stands up with a quick smile and excuses himself out of the conference room, needing to head back to his office for another meeting. Satoru looks down at his notes from the meeting, messy with times and locations of different meetings and workshops throughout the weekend. He looks back at Suguru for a split second, noticing he’s also looking down at his own notes as Ijichi starts to talk.

“Okay, here’s the details for your flights,” Ijichi starts, handing printouts of everything to both Satoru and Suguru. “And these are the details for your hotel.” Satoru looks at the papers briefly before straightening them out and tucking them into his folder. Suguru does the same before shooting a quick glance at Satoru, only to see he’s focused on Ijichi, dark circles under his eyes and all.

Ijichi nods and stands up from the table, Satoru and Suguru standing up as well. They gather their things and head back to their cubicles to finish out the last couple hours of the workday before they leave in the morning. “Do you wanna meet at my place in the morning? And then we can head to the airport together?” Suguru suggests.

Satoru’s heart speeds up in his chest, realizing that the trip he’s been anticipating for the past 2 months is finally happening. “Sure! Do you think 8 is good?” He suggests, trying to account for the time it takes to get to the airport and through security.

“That works for me! I’ll send you my address.” Suguru says as they make it back to their cubicles. Satoru smiles as he sits down and gets back to work, Suguru doing the same. Right now is the time that they’re focused on making sure all the finer details are perfect and where they need them to be within the presentation.

5pm quickly approaches and Satoru finds that he still has so many little things that he can make better. He’s focused on one specific part of the presentation that he was particularly worried about. He wasn’t exactly an expert in the subject that he was presenting, but he sure as hell was going to seem like one.

“See you in the morning!” He hears Suguru call out from behind him. He turns around and offers up a tired smile and a wave. Suguru smiles back at him, before turning to head towards the front door, his jacket on and bag thrown over his shoulder. He looks over at Shoko’s empty cubicle realizing that he didn’t even hear her leave. Hm. He hums quietly to himself, closing up his computer after working on a couple more points that he needed to work on, deciding to finish the rest on his computer at home. He stands up and pulls on his jacket before putting all the paperwork he needs into his bag. He grabs his headphones out of the pocket and puts them in his ears before making his way towards the front doors.

First one here and last one leaving. At least the worst is behind us. He sighs as he pushes open the front door and heads down the hallway. He hits play on his music, hoping that something upbeat will make him feel a little less exhausted for his commute home.

Satoru decides to pick up dinner on his way home, opting for chicken katsu from a restaurant near his building. He makes it home as fast as he can, wanting to work on his presentation some more. He reaches the 36th floor and fishes his keys out of his pocket before sticking the key into his door. Kicking his shoes off and flicking on the lights, he makes his way into the kitchen and sets his food down on the island with a yawn.

“Wow, Shi, I am exhausted.” Satoru says as Shiro walks out to greet him, her bright eyes looking up at him, waiting for food. “Alright, alright, let me get changed first and I’ll feed you, okay?” He says to her, turning to head towards his bedroom. He pushes open the bedroom door and heads straight into his closet, immediately stripping out of his suit and putting on sweats and a tshirt. He heads back out towards the living room, looking at the mirror as he passes by. Dark circles make their home underneath his eyes and he’s surprised, widening his eyes at the sight. “Wow, I look exhausted.” He huffs out, heading back out towards the kitchen.

He picks up Shiro’s bowl before pulling open the fridge and grabbing her leftover food from the morning before mashing it up in her bowl and adding a couple extra treats on top because he’s going to be gone for the next three nights. She meows loudly at his feet, hurrying him along as he takes too long for her liking. “Okay, alright, I’m getting there!” He says with a smile as he tries not to trip over Shiro as she weaves in between his feet as he walks. He sets it down with a soft chuckle at how excited she gets.

He chooses to sit down to eat dinner at the island rather than at the table. Finally pulling out his phone to check for what feels like the first time today, he first notices a text from Suguru. It has his address, which isn’t too far from the office, as well as a second message.

‘See you at 8 :)’ He reads with a smile on his face. He starts typing out a response, excited for tomorrow.

‘I’ll be there! 😁’ He sends back, setting his phone back down to continue eating. He quickly finishes, trying to have as much time as possible to work on the last tiny details that he needed to. Tossing the empty boxes in the trash, he heads down the hallway to his home office to grab his laptop before making his way back out to the couch. He sits back on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table, pressing play on some quiet music to help him focus.

He quickly dives back into his work, trying to make every tiny detail perfect. The presentation is far past acceptable, but Satoru is unhappy with anything that’s less than perfect to him. He sits on his couch with his feet up for hours until he looks at the clock and sees it’s well past 11.

His eyes burn from having looked at monitors and screens all day. Just a little rest. He thinks to himself, letting his head fall back and his eyes close for what was only supposed to be a moment.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck Satoru?” Suguru whispers angrily to himself as he looks at the time on his watch as he climbs out of the car, grabbing his bag. Satoru was supposed to be at his place at 8 and it’s currently just after 9. When it was 8:15 and Satoru wasn’t there yet, he decided to text him. After multiple texts that went unanswered, Suguru resorts to trying to call him. Every call goes to voicemail, leaving Suguru slightly worried, but mostly frustrated. Once 5 phone calls had gone unanswered, he decided that he was going to go over to Satoru’s place.

He hurries into the lobby from the chilly outside and thankfully gets into an elevator and quickly up to the 36th floor. Suguru was admittedly exhausted from the week leading up to this, so his lack of sleep did not help his irritation towards Satoru at this moment.

“He better be fucking dead or he’s gonna be.” Suguru says to himself as he approaches the door, knocking politely at first. When Satoru doesn’t answer, he knocks harder, getting progressively more frustrated at the situation. After a minute of knocking normally gone unanswered, he starts pounding on the door with the side of his fist, doing anything he can to get Satoru to open up.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck!” Satoru exclaims as his eyes look down at his watch, the pounding at his front door abruptly waking him from his sleep. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” He continues to shout at himself as he jumps up from the couch and rushes towards his front door, unlocking it and pulling it open as fast as he can.

He opens the door and without even looking at who it is, he turns and heads back into his apartment, hurrying to gather everything he needs. “Satoru what the fuck!?” He hears Suguru shouting from behind him as he steps inside and closes the door. He’s thankful that he’s already packed almost everything he needs, but he’s still rushing around grabbing the last minute things that he had left out that he needs for the trip. “It’s 9:15, what the hell dude?” Suguru continues shouting, following Satoru into his room.

“I know, I know,” Satoru starts, bursting into his closet to change out of his clothes from the night before. “I’m sorry!” He shouts from inside his closet and he puts on the first shirt he pulls off of the hanger. Suguru’s sigh can be easily heard from the other side of the door.

“Satoru, if we miss this flight, we’re both fucking dead! How could you be so irresponsible?!” He says, standing at the edge of Satoru’s bed with an exasperated sigh while Satoru continues running around making sure he has everything he needs. He feels like he’s going to puke at the feeling in his stomach.

How could I be so fucking careless? He runs his hands through his hair, running into the bathroom to grab the bag that he needs off of the countertop. Suguru watches as he runs between his closet and bathroom. He picks up his bathroom bag and makes his way back towards the living room to add it into his larger bag. Suguru follows him out of his bedroom, shaking his head in disappointment.

“What were you even doing?!” He shouts as Satoru heads back towards his office to make sure he’s not leaving anything important behind.

“I said I’m sorry, Suguru, but you yelling at me for it is not making it any better and it’s not gonna change anything! I was working on the presentation some more and I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm,” He spits out. It sounds more harsh than he would like it to as it comes out of his mouth, but it’s too late now. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down before he scurries back out into the living room with the last folder that he needs in his hand.

Quickly shoving it into his backpack and zipping it up, he looks up at Suguru who’s standing near the front door looking furious, his eyebrows furrowed together and his hands balled up into fists, shoved deep into his pockets. Satoru runs over to the front closet and Suguru steps aside to get out of his way. He pulls it open and picks out the first jacket he grabs, yanking it on and running back over to grab his bag from the kitchen island.

“Shiro, Shoko will be here later tonight, okay?” Satoru shouts into the apartment as he slips on a pair of sneakers. He quickly grabs his wallet, keys, and sunglasses before looking at Suguru. “Okay, let’s go.” Suguru quickly pulls open the front door and steps out into the hallway, throwing his bag back over his shoulder as he waits for Satoru to lock up. He decided to go push the elevator button to hurry it along while Satoru follows closely behind.

“I already have a car waiting.” Suguru says curtly. The way he says it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine.

I fucked up. Bad. The elevator ride is silent and makes it down to the lobby in what feels like record time. They make it to the car and load their bags in the trunk before climbing into the back. Satoru can see Suguru looking down at the map on his phone, checking to see how long it’ll take them to make it to the airport. “It’ll be fine.” Satoru says, trying his best to help calm Suguru down.

“Satoru,” He starts, still sounding extremely frustrated with him. “I don’t want to hear it right now.” Suguru spits out, sounding like a parent talking to their child. Satoru lets out a silent sigh, deciding to look out the window, resting his chin in his palm rather than trying to talk to Suguru.

I won’t bother him right now. The corners of Satoru’s mouth pull into a frown, angry with himself for not setting an alarm. I just wanted to make sure everything was ready. How could I be so stupid? The ride to the airport feels like an eternity as they race the clock to make it to their plane.

“You should get your passport out now so you’re not trying to find it in there.” Suguru says, rifling around in his bag for his own. The way he says it is nothing like the normal way he speaks to Satoru. It nearly makes his blood run cold as it finally settles in just how upset Suguru is. He wants nothing more than to turn to him and apologize, but he decides that it’s best to give Suguru some space, at least until they make it to their destination. Pulling out his passport, the driver pulls up to their terminal.

Both Suguru and Satoru let out a quick thank you as they climb out of the car and grab their bags from the trunk. They hurry into the closest doors before looking around to check where they need to go. Suguru heads towards where the signs are pointing them to go, not even bothering to tell Satoru to follow behind. Satoru notices that Suguru seems to know where he’s going, so he follows closely behind.

Thankfully, they make it through security without any issues. Satoru looks down at his watch, seeing that it’s just after 10. He follows behind Suguru who already seems like he knows exactly where he’s going, and at a pace that would have anyone breaking a sweat. Satoru’s eyes widen as he realizes that their plane is leaving in less than 5 minutes.

Suguru turns around and looks at Satoru for the first time since they entered the airport. “We gotta go.” He says with his eyebrows raised, looking worried, causing both of them to pick up the pace as they walk through the terminal towards their gate. “25 is where we’re going.” Suguru says as their hurried walk turns into a jog and eventually into a run as they see that they’re only at 11. Satoru can think of nothing else other than hoping that they make their flight.

They can finally see the gate when they hear their names over the PA system. Not slowing down at all, Satoru hears as the woman says that this is the final boarding for their flight. “Shit.” Satoru hisses out, trying to run even faster, trying to hold his backpack from bouncing up and down as he runs, trying to keep up with Suguru. They make it to the gate that’s empty of people and pull their tickets up on their phones, ready to have them scanned as they approach the doors to board the plane.

Both of them let out an audible sigh of relief upon seeing that the doors are still open and the gate attendant is still standing at the ticket scanner. She gives them a surprised look as they run up with their tickets ready, slightly out of breath. Suguru scans his first and walks through the doors down the jet bridge towards the plane. Satoru scans his ticket and gives a thankful smile to the woman as he hurries through the doors. They close the door behind him, causing his eyes to widen. We barely made it and it’s all my fault.

Looking down at his ticket for the first time as he walks through the door of the plane. He makes his way past all the seated passengers, being the last one standing as he walks through the seats already full of people. He finds that his seat is only 6 rows back. He smiles to himself, slightly relieved as he realizes that it’s in the seats that have a bit more legroom than the normal ones. As he sits down, he sees Suguru a couple rows back. His shoulders feel slightly heavy, realizing that they won’t be sitting next to each other.

It’s probably for the best that we aren’t sitting together… At least right now. He makes it to his aisle seat and sets his bag on the floor. Man, I screwed up. Satoru tucks his bag underneath the seat in front of him as he sits down and buckles his seatbelt, ready to relax a little bit on the 4 hour flight before he sees Suguru again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Suguru sighs as he takes his seat, extremely relieved that they both made it onto the plane before they shut the doors. The stranger in the seat next to his is a pretty good indicator that Satoru is seated somewhere else. He silently thanks whatever higher power that they weren’t seated next to each other, at least for this flight. I can’t fucking believe him. How could he be so irresponsible? He shakes his head as he lifts up the window shade, opting to look outside at the tarmac instead of at Satoru as he walks onto the plane.

He pulls his headphones out of his bag and slips them over his ears as he feels the plane start to back away from the gate. Pressing play on his music, he rests back against the seat and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s fine. We made it.

The plane quickly taxies its way onto the runway and before Suguru knows it, they're in the air and on their way to Shanghai. He finds himself looking over to the seat beside him instinctively wanting to talk to Satoru, completely forgetting about being mad at him before he remembers that he’s seated a few rows in front of him. He can see Satoru’s white fluffy hair peeking over the seat and it makes him smile for the first time that day. I just can’t stay mad at him. He lets out a sigh, looking out the window once more before closing the shade and closing his eyes, hoping to get a little bit of sleep on the 4 hour flight.

When he opens his eyes again, he can hear a voice over the PA system. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and removes one of the cuffs from his ears to hear what they’re saying. He catches the end of an announcement saying that they will be landing in Shanghai in about 30 minutes. After putting his headphones back over his ears, he stretches his arms, trying to rid his body of the stiffness from flying. I really needed that nap. He opens the window shade to look at the ground and gets an eyeful of the sun. Quickly squinting his eyes, he lowers it just enough that it covers the sun and he can still look outside.

The water of the ocean below is glittering from the sunlight, a beautiful blue that reminds Suguru of a certain someone’s eyes. He sighs to himself, feeling much less frustrated with Satoru after his nap, but still upset with him. I miss him, he thinks, looking down at his lap wistfully. Suguru and Satoru hadn’t talked about anything besides work in what felt like forever. He was working on the presentation. Suguru has a mental battle with himself, feeling bad about being so upset with him, but also not feeling bad because he almost made them miss their flight. But we didn’t miss it, he argues with himself.

Suguru watches out the window for the remainder of the flight, watching as the sparkling sea turns into land and they touch down safely on the runway. He can’t help but look up the few rows at Satoru’s white hair that peeks over the seat. He sticks his headphones in his bag and slings it over his shoulder as he waits for the doors to open to start letting people off. A soft smile sits on his face as he thinks about the full weekend of work that he and Satoru have planned ahead of them.

chapter 10

#satosugu #stsg #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #office au #4littlefishies #the 36th floor

11 notes · View notes