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luvknow · 4 years

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in another lifetime | lee minho

genre: ceo/iron man!lee minho x secretary!reader | ceo au ; superhero au ; alcohol mention ; blood mention summary: you and your boss were inseparable. no one could understand how you could work ungodly hours for such an inexperienced ceo. but your job was to stick by Mr. Lee for as long as you were getting paid, and that meant being his date to charity balls and helping him turn into the country’s best superhero. wc: 18.9k a/n: rewrite of that one w**jin fic cuz fuck that guy ~! the public has spoken.... lee minho has been chosen as the winner

Secretary was your title, but you liked to think you were more than just that. Perhaps secretary was just an umbrella term for amateur sommelier slash novice multitasker slash the only employee who knew how to drive stick. Whatever your job entailed, you were sure to list all of those tasks in your updated resume when it was time to pass the torch onto some other poor sucker because you would much rather die than be a secretary for life.

It wasn’t like your boss was a total ass, or anything. That was actually the scary part - the fact that your boss was one of the kindest and most attentive people you’ve ever worked for, yet you still hated this job! What made this so horrid was the amount of walking and running your poor feet had to do. And guess what? No sneakers were allowed in the office, so you were left with walking over forty-thousand steps in a day in toe-pinching sole-aching glossy shoes that were half a size too big for your feet because shoes like these always ran out in your size in the store.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” you greeted, walking into his private office at 8:00 am on the dot as normal. With tired eyes, he looked up from his stack of blueprints and gave you a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it, but he always managed to welcome your morning visits with a smile that almost made you consider your resignation. “Iced americano, extra shot.”

“You are a blessing,” he praised graciously. One sip of the liquid gold was enough to wake him up right away.

“Long night?”

“Yeah. You know how it took us hours to decide the wall colors for each floor in our building? Imagine doing that all over again, but for a superhero suit prototype.”

“But it’s just a suit this time, not fifty floors.”

“This isn’t just a suit, _____. It’s the suit of a man who’s going to save the world one day! A suit that everyone will lay their eyes on and judge me for my color choices.”

“You sound like a child.”

“An ambitious child, mind you.”

“Did you ultimately decide on a color?”

“Yes, two colors actually. Red and gold.”

“Wow, such a loud and loyal color choice.”

“Is it?” Your handsome boss pouted slightly while scanning his designs. “Seungmin said the same thing. Maybe I should change it -”

“No!” you interrupted for the sake of not wanting to look up Pantone’s thousands of shades of ruby and champagne. “Red and gold are perfect for you.”

Minho’s pouty lips melted into a proud smile. “If you believe so, then I trust you. Come take a look - what do you think of it overall?”

You walked around his ginormous custom-made walnut desk to peer over his shoulder. Minho could smell the familiar gardenia scent you wore for years and it immediately brought comfort to his panicking soul. Somehow your presence always calmed him down, no matter what stressful situation he was in. Maybe that’s why he wanted to have you around 24/7. How selfish of him.

Your couple minutes of silence were so agonizing that his nervous foot-tapping habit he told you about that he thought he got rid of in college broke through, which was your cue to answer.

“I like it. I like it a lot, actually,” you admitted honestly. “I would definitely feel safe if I saw you come to my rescue, although the helmet is a little concerning.”

“Concerning how?”

“Well, it has such a… A, uh… How do I put this politely? A dead expression?”

“‘Dead’ is a polite adjective to you?”

“I mean come on, Mr. Lee, there are two eyes and a flat line for the mouth where the corners curve downwards just slightly and it looks like you gave him little fangs. There’s not much life in the eyes, either.”

“They light up when the suit is on!”

“Maybe I’ll like it more when I see it in person?”

“The helmet is the only thing I’m confident about, so nothing and no one can change my mind,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” you reassured while smoothing out the stress wrinkles on his indigo shoulder pads. “When do you plan on starting the build?”

“In half an hour.”

“What!?” Minho nearly spit out his espresso at your yelping and the frantic way you sifted through your massive planner and scrolling through your emails on your phone at the same time. Oh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you! He knew something felt off. “B-B-But I didn’t get an email that the shipment arrived!”

“I called the company at five in the morning just as they opened and demanded an expedited shipping of all the materials and they’ll be arriving in half an hour.”

“But did the quality department approve of the materials? Or your design at least?”

“You do know I’m the CEO, right?” Minho smirked teasingly. “That’s business talk for ‘fuck Quality’.”

Minho stood up from his black velvet Chesterfield chair to escape your nagging and briskly walked away towards God-knows-where. Like an obedient, push-over puppy, you trailed closely behind with a light jog and all you could think about was how it was too early for your feet to be aching this badly.

“I don’t like the idea of this,” you said firmly.

“You never do. Loosen up a little, will ya?”

“I will not! I looked the other way when you decided on signing a contract to collaborate with that ugly luxury car brand, I agreed with the proposal of a new smartphone that totally flopped in the end, and I barely allowed the approval for the development of the new branch in Taiwan! All of those ideas are whatever, arbitrary even, but this? This puts you at the front line of danger, Mr. Lee! What if something goes wrong, or the material is compromised? What if these companies take you for a fool for not checking in with the quality department first? What if you’re setting yourself up to be sabotaged, huh?”

Minho pressed the down button on the elevator, ignoring your pleas. Even though all you do is nag and play by the rules, he knew you were only doing so because he didn’t bother to. In the end, you were just looking out for him, and he couldn’t appreciate you more.

His gives you what he thought was a reassuring smile. To you, it looked rather mischievous “Lucky for me that you’ll be there the whole time, right?”’

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll watch the entire suit being built while you work. Then you’ll see how safe it is. I need someone to double check me, anyways.”

“Mr. Lee, I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are!”

Your engineering experience went as far as Physics I and II classes with a teaspoon’s worth in basic circuitry, so if Minho thought that qualified you to double check his work, then you might have to question his PhD degree.

The elevator welcomed you both into its vacant container. The lowest level this elevator could reach with a single button was the basement, but if the right person (or the wrong person) were to dial the buttons in the order of 4-4-1-9, they would be taken nine floors below the basement to the rumored ‘Super Office’ (ten was too much because Minho didn’t like the feel of the heavy pressure and eight was such a silly number).

The steel doors opened right into his Super Office which he designed to be five times larger than his executive office so he had plenty of room for building up new car designs and bringing his super suits to life for both him and his partners. His successful designs that were once worn but are now retired were placed on mannequins and stored inside a tall glass box on display for him to admire.

You walked up to your favorite one, eyes sparkled adoringly at Seungmin’s first Spider-Man suit.

“You always loved the red and blue,” Minho noted behind you. “Still not a fan of the black one?”

“The black one is scary! No one wants a hero dressed in all black, like that color does not exude the feeling of safe.”

“Duly noted for his next suit.”

Beside Seungmin’s old spidey suit was an empty display case you assumed was meant for this final draft of Minho’s Iron Man suit. Surrounding the two glass cases were dozens and dozens of wood and plastic demos that didn’t work out in the end, but Minho didn’t have the heart to take them to the dumpster.

“Looks like the shipment arrived early!” Your mature but easy-going boss jogged up to the piles of wooden crates and packages that were laid out neatly in the center of his work space. Without much patience, he took off his indigo suit jacket, tossed it to the side like it wasn’t worth two thousand dollars (to which you caught before it hit the ground), and took the crowbar on top of the pile to open the cases with ease. Sheets of metals, different tools, and a cool welding and soldering set scattered along the concrete floor. Minho gave you an excited grin that mimicked a child upon opening gifts on Christmas. “Let the building commence!”

There wasn’t room for any argument, so you took a seat at his desk where he normally would sketch the designs and worked off of his desktop with a heavy feeling of defeat. At least watching the process would be cool, right?

Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Or watching.

For the next three months, from sunrise to sunset, you spent your day nine floors below the surface for almost twelve hours a day being his little helper. From holding pieces of metal in place while he flame torched them together to feeding him take out because his hands were covered in oil, you did it all and God, if Minho didn’t give you a raise or at least some meal tickets to the executive cafeteria, you might just quit on the spot.

“Done.” With a heavy and exhausted sigh, Minho clapped his hands together and marveled at his nearly-finished product. “We’re done!!”

“What about the red and gold paint?”

“I can’t work on this anymore or I’ll implode. I’ll just take this to my car guy and he’ll paint it exactly how I want it.”

“Not really a self-made suit then, is it?” you dared to challenge your boss.

He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Shut your mouth and give me my food.”

You handed a slouching Minho his box of take-out and wooden chopsticks. While you had a perfectly comfortable ottoman he could have sat on right next to you, he remained on the cold concrete, probably too sore and worn out to even stand up, let alone walk to a cushioned seat. Minho was a man with personality and many faces, but his face of satisfactory upon completing projects was when he was the most handsome. For a while, you two just sat in silence, taking in every detail of the flawless iron suit while slurping noodles.

“So,” Minho began nervously. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Lee,” you say immediately.

“You mean it?”

For someone so intelligent and talented, it was a wonder how a man like him could be insecure about any of his creations.

“Absolutely,” you reassured. “Flawless. Is it fully programmed and everything?”

“Yup. I installed the software and artificial intelligence last week.”

“Sounds like the only thing you need to do is take it out for a spin.”

Minho hummed with approval. “... Can you do it for me?”

“What!? No!”

“I really don’t want to do it…”

“With all due respect, suck it up.”

“Isn’t it reasons like this why I hired you?”

“I was hired to be your secretary, not your lab rat.”

“To be fair, the job description was pretty vague.”

“Yeah, I definitely did not expect to be helping you construct a modern Knight in Shining Armor cosplay.” After wiping your mouth clean of all MSG and soy sauce, you tossed your dirty napkin in the trash bin that was a considerable distance away.

Minho followed suit, who was also able to get his napkin in the can. Then you tossed another napkin, and then him, and this went on until you were left to toss your boxes and chopsticks. The real challenge was tossing the plastic wraps of the fortune cookies.

“Whoever loses has to do whatever the other says,” Minho proposed.

Without hesitation, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but I will not test that thing out if I lose.”

“Deal. Secretaries first.”

You did your best to crumple up and squish out any air that was left in the wrapped before whipping it like you were throwing the first pitch. The wrapper hit the rim of the can and fell to the side. But that’s ok, because there was no way your boss could even come close to -

“WOO!” Minho cheered, getting up from the floor while you were left slumped in the chair filled with defeat. Of course, whatever he wanted, he would get his way. “Man, I am super lucky today.”

“What the hell! Did you wrap it around a stone or something!?”

“Darling, I would never cheat ~”

“There’s no use in arguing. Just lay the consequences on me, boss.”

Minho scooted the ottoman closer - almost a little too close. Then, like a handsome little goldendoodle with his swooshy chocolate hair and sparkling eyes, he gazed up at you pleadingly before offering you your punishment.

Fear and flattery tickled your spine. “Spit it out.”

A grin followed. “You will accompany me to the ball next week.”

“The Children’s Charity Ball? The biggest charity ball of the century? The one where all the white-haired big shots attend with their dates who just barely turned eighteen?”

“The very same.”

“And you want me to be your date.”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”

“Lazy how!?”

Not wanting him to see you blush, you began cleaning up the mess from the takeout. “Lazy as in why not find a real date? You know, someone you’ll have a good time with.”

“Hey, I always have a good time with you! And I’m doing you a favor if you think about it. If I wanted to bring anyone else, that would mean you’d have to flip through all of my contacts and have you choose the perfect date for me. So unless you want the extra overtime, I’ll expect to see you dressed to the nines?”

“Don’t you want to bring someone more suited for this role? Someone with much more finesse and elegance?” you said as you twirled dirty napkins in the air.

“If I’m being honest, I do not have the time nor do I want to put in the effort into bringing someone so bland.”

“Who says they’re bland? What if I pick out one of your supermodel friends or like a professor, or something?”

“All my supermodel friends like to toke up in bathrooms and what’s a professor going to do? Lecture me to death? _____, please, I am begging you - be my date? You know you and I are going to have a blast, I promise you. We always do when we’re together.”

A moment of silence passed while you shuddered in disgust. You couldn’t believe you were going to say this, but… “So what should I wear?”

“Yes! That’s the spirit! Wear anything besides velvet because that’s my fabric of choice.”

“Can you at least do the picking for me? We should at least match in the slightest.”

Minho let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine, I’ll do all the work.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Lee.”

“It’s what I do best.”

After cleaning up the mess and a last quick polish on the Iron suit, the two of you took the elevator to the level below the basement where Minho parked his favorite fancy shmancy foreign sports car you couldn’t pronounce. In its shiny and spotless all-white glory sat his coup in his executive parking spot where no other car or person was in sight.

“Quite showy for you, isn’t it?” you accused your normally toned-down boss.

“I had a hunch that today was going to be the day we finished, and low and behold, we did. Soojung the Spyder always brings me good luck,” he patted and praised his prized roadster.

The distance from the office to your apartment was a solid forty-five minutes away by public transportation, right on the edge of being not too far, but not close enough, but by car it was only twenty-five minutes. During your first couple of years with the company, you enjoyed the lonely rides and getting lost with your thoughts, but there were moments you got so lost that you missed your stop a couple too many times and sometimes the winter made waiting outside so unbearable. It wasn’t until you started to clock in tons of overtime that Minho was nice enough to drive you home from then on.

“C’mon, _____, just get in the car,” Minho begged for the twelfth time, holding the passenger door open with one hand and an umbrella with the other. He parked his car illegally right in front of the bus stop that so many other employees used. Why did it matter that you were using it while it was thunderstorming and past 10:00 PM? “The heat is escaping the longer we argue.”

“It’s fine! I don’t live too far away,” you lied. “Please go home, Mr. Lee, your puppy must be worried sick.”

“Hazelnut can wait, but I can’t. As your boss, I order you to get in my car!” Though the statement was serious with his booming voice, his pouty lips made it much less intimidating.

“With all due respect, I have clocked out for the day and I don’t have to listen to you until 7:00 am tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me break the law.”

“What do you mean?”

The blinding lights of the bus flashed irregularly, a polite way of telling Minho to get the fuck out of the way. But he didn’t move in the slightest. He patiently waited for you by the passenger door, not moving a muscle and looking like a car model dressed in his long, warm and tan pea coat. The patient and smug look on his face let you know he wasn’t playing around and that he’d dare tell the bus to wait until you got in.

“Mr. Lee, get out of the way!”

“Not until you’re in my car,” he shook his head stubbornly. “The bus is getting closer ~”

Your anxiousness hiked up exponentially when the driver held the horn long and loudly, not looking like they had much patience in them and indicating that they were very, very annoyed. For the sake of not inconveniencing the butt-load of passengers and the driver and securing your job, you hurried into his car, cursing up a storm that rivaled the one outside. A triumphant and smirking Minho followed suit and sped away at a dangerous speed, perhaps breaking a second law that night. For those twenty-five minutes (or maybe it was fifteen with Minho’s driving), the car was silent because your reckless boss focused on cutting every civilian off on the highway and you were too busy covering your eyes in fear.

“You were so dramatic back then,” Minho snickered at the seemingly-harmless memory.

“Me!? You were the one who parked in front of a bus stop and begged me to get in!”

“You were the one who wouldn’t get in the damn car!”

“How does it look to on-lookers that a secretary is getting into her boss’s car!?”

“It’s not like anyone knows our relationship.”

“Oh please, someone like you driving a beautiful shiny car picking up sad ol’ me at the bus stop - of course on-lookers may not know me and my relationship to you, but they definitely know who you are at the very least.”

“I could not give more than zero fucks of what people think.”

“Yes, that much is clear.”

“_____, you can’t always worry about what everyone thinks ~”

You sighed loudly, as if you’d explained this to him a thousand times already. “Worrying is the basis of my entire title, Mr. Lee.”

“And will you drop the ‘Mr. Lee’ once and for all? We’re the same age!”

“Same age, but different titles and a massive pay gap. You and I are not equals.”

Minho reached over to mess up your hair. “You’re so formal, it’s so cute!”

“Ah, stop it! You’re swerving!!”

Minho had dropped you off and walked you up to your apartment more times than you can count, but you don’t think you’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your humble abode. Of course you’ve visited his mansion just as many times, since you participated in the designing of it, and him having to see such a sad home in comparison is, well, terrifying each and every time.

“Ok, bye,” you dismissed quickly.

A handsome laugh escaped your handsome boss’s lips. “Still hate having me so close to your home? You know, it’s quite rude you’ve never invited me in and yet you’ve been in mine hundreds of times!”

“My home doesn’t have marble statues or glass refrigerators and I can’t hire you to redesign the interior.”

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“But I do!”

His tongue tisked disappointedly. “What a shame. I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but friends don’t break sensitive boundaries.”

He passively waved you off. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

“Excellent. I have one request.”

It was your turn to pout. What could he possibly want this time? “Already? At least let me sleep peacefully.”

“It’s nothing complicated, I promise! In fact, it’ll save you thirty minutes. Don’t bring me my coffee tomorrow.”

“Don’t? Are you on a caffeine cleanse again? You know how badly that went last time - you barely lasted two days and you fired someone, to which I had to convince you for forty minutes to hire them back.”

“No, not a cleanse. Just come in a bit earlier. Let’s get coffee together.”

“Do you have time for that?” Knowing how packed Minho’s schedule was in the mornings, you wondered his sanity for making time just so the two of you could grab a cup.

“I’ll make time. Actually, you’ll make time. Can you pencil us in for some coffee?”

“U-Uh, yeah!” With nervous and shaky hands, you pulled out your work phone and squeezed in half an hour of coffee time. “Done.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t be reckless driving home.”

“No promises.”

Before going into your apartment complex, you watched Minho wave goodbye before blasting music with a deep bass and speeding off, leaving a smokey trail from burning rubber.

“I hate him,” you smiled to yourself.

“I hate him,” you said to yourself upon walking into Minho’s office.

Like an artificially intelligent robot that didn’t know of its purpose, Minho dressed in his Iron suit walked around his office doing regular office things, like dusting the blinds and tidying up loose papers on his desk. It was a little difficult to do smaller tasks with his stiff and massive iron hands, so you’re not entirely sure what your boss was doing.

“G’morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Just taking this baby out on a test drive.”

You had just noticed the paint job was completed on the suit which meant that it was good to go. However, you didn’t think this was the ideal way to ‘test drive’ a superhero suit.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Is this really the right way to test drive?”

“I got too excited when my car guy told me it was done. He did it so quickly and precisely, too. Look, he even engraved it with my signature! She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very shiny. The gold and red are much prettier than I imagined.”

“Right!? Not too Gryffindor-y, is it?”

“Not at all,” you said sincerely. “Do you want to get coffee now? We should hurry, you have a conference call at 8:00.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Minho followed you to the door with a trail of heavy iron steps. You turned around quickly and gave him an incredulous look, one he’s seen much too often. “I don’t want coffee anymore.”

“Why not!?”

“I’m not going out in public with you wearing that thing! You look ridiculous!”

“That’s so rude of you to say about my pride and joy! This also took me thirty minutes to put on!”

“Mr. Lee, we’re just getting coffee!”

“You are not fun at all.”

It took only five minutes to get your boss stumbling out of the suit because the button for the release was hidden under a metal panel on his wrist, but at least it was painless.

“I thought you didn’t want to reveal Iron Man until you tested it and got your seal of approval?” you asked the child-like man.

“That’s still the plan, but I’m just so excited! I think we should test it tonight.”

“Tonight? Already?”

“Yup, and I need you here with me in case I die, or something.”

“And to think I was gonna relax and take a bubble bath tonight.”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I’ll believe it when I drop my bath bomb in my tub.”

In your whole time working here, you’ve spent more time together with Minho at both the office and at his home than working alone. The ratio was about seventy-five percent at the office, fifteen percent at his home, and ten percent miscellaneous, like going to business lunches or simple walks to the coffee shop like today. The long work hours were brutal on your feet and your social life, but the money was way too good to pass. You swore you broke the world record for ‘quickest payment of student debt’ with your hard work.

To anyone else, your job sounded so unappealing that no amount of money could ever convince them to do what you’re doing. ‘So brave’, they tell you, but it’s not that you’re brave, it’s that you’re loyal and as much as you hate to say it, you had the best boss. Yes, he’s a little goofy and yes, maybe a bit naive because he’s so young, but he treated you like you’re his equal and not someone so beneath him who takes all of his notes and takes his laundry to be dry cleaned. Plus when he compensated for your time so handsomely, how could you hate your job? Every day was new and exciting when you were with Minho.

The day went along as normal, from conference calls to lunch and finishing the day with an interview with the press. The very second everyone clocked out at 5:00 pm, you followed a speedy boss to wherever he led you.

“Are we going to test it out now?”

“No, silly, it’s still too bright out! We have to test it once the sun sets.”

You knew that sounded too good to be true. You held a light jog in order to keep up with him. “Where are we going then?”

He turned and gave you a suspicious grin. “Shopping!”

“For what!?”

“You and I need matching outfits for the charity ball, remember?”

“You know, I was just kidding when I said that… We don’t have to match…” The last thing you want is for someone to mistake you as your boss’s date instead of his secretary, but to be fair you don’t know many guests going that bring anyone that isn’t a date, so you kind of shot yourself in the foot when you didn’t make that shot into the trash bin.

“We are matching and I am not arguing with you.”

A defeated sigh escaped your lips before entering the backseat of Minho’s car where his driver would take us anywhere he pleased. He told him a cross section that sounded familiar, but not enough for you to guess where you’re going, so from here on out until you were home taking a hot bath, the rest of today would be a surprise.

The car stopped in front of a glossy black DIOR building. You expected nothing less from Minho.

“You would pick Dior,” you scoffed, completely amazed at how someone so rich could have so much brand loyalty to one company.

“Hey, they are consistent and beautifully crafted, don’t judge me.”

“Mr. Lee and Lovely _____!” An older, graceful lady came running to greet both of you with a warm smile dressed in a hot red shade of lipstick. You recognized her voice to be the owner from all the times you called to ask about any pieces Minho could reserve before they hit the runway and were snatched up by the ‘I Have Daddy’s Credit Card and Inheritance’ private-school boys. This was your first time seeing her in person and her calming voice matched her mature appearance perfectly. “This piece has been waiting for you ~”

“I can’t wait, Auntie,” he smiled back graciously like an obedient nephew rewarded with cookies.

She led the two of you to the very back where the private dressing and tailoring area was, where the mirrors went from the floor to the ceiling. The store owner walked in with Minho’s fabric of choice, a velvet jacket with crisp black pants and a white button-up that had the slightest sheen of silver from metallic strands woven into the shirt fabric. In the shadows, one would think the velvet was black, but in the light or at certain angles, there was the slightest sheen to it that showed the darkest shades of indigo and green, like an oil slick. You couldn’t believe the amount of detail in the velvet that your eyes looked like they were popping out of your sockets.

Your boss was so eager to try it on that he was taking off his pants before you were warned. Quickly you turned around and shut your eyes, pretending that you didn’t see his KakaoTalk-patterned boxer briefs.

“M-M-Mr. Lee! At least warn me if you’re going to strip!!”

“Sorry ~” he apologized unapologetically.

A couple of zips and rustling of fabrics later, Minho tapped your shoulder to turn around. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets again while looking at your boss dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him and him only. It didn’t look like any tailoring was needed at all! He looked like he walked right off the runway. There had to be some enchantment spell in the fabric because you swear you’ve never seen any man more handsome before this moment.

“I take it you like it?” Minho teased.

Your cheeks tickled with red when he caught you staring. “You look amazing as usual, Mr. Lee.”

“You think so?” You knew so. “It’s not too flashy, is it?”

“Not at all. I think you have the perfect amount of flash. How does it feel?”

“Like a glove. It’s already perfectly tailored!”

“I know your measurements by heart, my dear,” Auntie bragged. “Of course I had it ready to go already.”

“You’re the best.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. “What would I be without you?”

“Not GQ’s best dressed man under thirty, that’s for sure.”

“Could you do me another favor? Do you perhaps have something for _____ to match? We have a charity ball next weekend.”

“Mr. Lee, this is really unnecessary -”

“I know exactly what to pull.”

Before you could object, Auntie ran to the back of the store where all the hidden inventory was held. You glared at your cheeky boss, still dressed in his sexy outfit and it was hard to keep your glare when he looked so damn good, that handsome bastard.

“I’m not wearing whatever she brings out.”

“You will and you’ll look great and we will buy it, so don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you!? I am not your doll!”

“I’ve got it!”

Both you and Minho whipped your heads to see Auntie running in with a blacker than black satin and silky outfit that was simple but elegant. Nervous goosebumps spread through your arms and straight to your wallet. You already knew this was going to be the most expensive outfit you’ve ever worn.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped so slightly.

“Try it on!”

Minho followed Auntie out of the dressing room but not before shooting you a triumphant wink. I mean, who were you to deny your boss and the store owner, right? So with ease, you put on the cooling fabric that clung to your body in all the right spots. The mirror did all justice and perhaps it was a magical mirror that Dior spent millions on to convince their customers to buy everything because damn, you look hot! With your face as red as Minho’s Corvette, you presented the outfit to the two judges.

“Oh, it fits perfectly!” Auntie gushed with wide eyes.

Minho stayed silent with his mouth ajar and eyes scanning you up and down like you were a precious gem discovered in a deep cave beyond a waterfall. It was hard to differentiate between feeling flattered and feeling like object, but at least you were a desired object, right?

“You look amazing,” Minho admitted sincerely, no longer looking at you with awe and rather content.

“Really? I look ok?”

His handsome smile shined brightly at you. Whether you were dressed in your formal work clothes that screamed ‘absolute virgin’ or you were head-to-toe in Dior, you were never just ‘ok’. You always had the attention of everyone in the room once you walked in, especially his. You were always stunning, no matter what. Validation from your boss always came easy and calmed you quickly because he only had eyes for you.

“You look just fine,” he lied, because ‘fine’ didn’t come close to how you looked to him.

“We’ll be the best dressed at the ball, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

The car ride home was quiet other than the trot music playing on the radio from the driver’s playlist. Minho seemed as cool as a cucumber, but you were at the edge of your seat feeling a bit awkward and ugh, unintentionally sweaty. Compliments from any man was one thing, but coming from your boss? A whole different level of weird, especially if they weren’t work related! What did ‘you look just fine’ even mean!? Was that a good thing? Were you too average-looking? Whatever it was, from now until you fall asleep at ungodly hours, those words were going to circulate your thoughts, perhaps haunt you for days.

At exactly 7:03 pm, just as the sun set below the horizon revealing the indigo night sky, the driver pulled up to the back entrance of the building that led to a secret elevator that would take you straight to the underground office after punching in the code. A giggling and grinning Minho was the first to hop out of the car and ran towards the door.

“Mr. Lee, hold on!” you whined as you struggled to get out of the tall car.

“Hurry up, _____! Now’s the perfect time to earn that OT!”

“This time-and-a-half pay better be worth it…”

Upon entering the elevator, you were ready to punch in the 4419 code, but Minho had already pressed the button to the top level, which led to the roof slash helipad.

“Why are we going up?”

“We can’t test the suit inside, silly. Seungmin came by earlier to pick up his suit after I recalibrated it last night and I asked him to take the suit to the roof.”

“How, that thing weighs like a ton!”

“Not when you’re wearing it.”

“You let him wear it before you test drove it!? Mr. Lee, that’s extremely reckless!”

“Relax, I trusted he wouldn’t mess anything up, and look! It’s right there!”

The glass elevator made a slow stop to reveal the red and gold suit standing proudly in the center of the helipad. As soon as the doors panned open, Minho handed you his suitcase before running out and tossing his blazer onto the floor before hastily stepping into the suit.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, running back to your frazzled state. He took the leather suitcase from your hands and popped it open so he could give you a glass tablet. “This is for you.”

You looked at the shiny slab of glass with wonder. “What is it?”

“It’s like a control center. You’ll see what I see in terms of my stats and where I am in the city. If anything goes wrong, like say the jets give out, I need you to send a command to manually turn on the back-ups.”

“And what code is that?”

“Not important, we’ll study those later.”

“Later!? What if something happens tonight!?”

“Nothing will happen I promise, I’ll see you in a bit ~!” his cheering faded away the further he ran from you and to his beloved suit.

There was no use in fighting your boss, so you did as you were told and touched the tablet to reveal the control panel. It was black for a few moments before the screen showed your tiny self off in the distance looking down at the tablet which meant that Minho was able to put on and turn on the suit super quickly without any problems.

“What do you see?” he asked you through the speakers of the tablet from his built-in microphone in the helmet.

“I see me in the distance, the battery level of the suit, and all other weird liquids and commodities at one hundred percent.”

“Perfect!”

You turned to look at your boss who was stretching and feeling out the suit as if this wasn’t his 50th time wearing it. Still, he looked so excited and proud of his hard work, it was hard to tease him about how childish he was, even if he was trying out his yoga poses he just learned.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels incredible! Totally indescribable now that I’m out in the open. And it’s surprisingly lightweight.”

“How were you able to make it feel light with all that metal?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest…”

You rolled your eyes. “The work of a genius, huh?”

“You’ve got that right. Are we ready to take off?”

“I believe so. Are you ready to take off?”

“More than I’ll ever be, baby!!”

Before you knew it, you saw the camera’s view on the screen wobble and turn towards the edge of the building. Terrified, you saw your child-like boss get a running start before he dove off the edge and into the sea of the city.

In a panic, you ran and took a peak over the edge, hoping the jets or whatever kept the suit flying would operate properly and leave you without any worries. At first, Minho was but a dark red speck falling beneath the shadows, but a second later, he came flying up at lighting speed doing tricks and flips with ease and whooping loudly, as any normal CEO of a software company slash wannabe superhero would do. You could hear him giggling through your tablet, and like a spectator watching the most spectacular aerial performance, you watched him with a smile on your lips.

After his solo, he glided back down to you and hovered beyond the edge just at your eye level. You couldn’t see any features behind the glass of his eyes so you were left awkwardly staring at his expressionless helmet with those signature weird fangs. After all you and Minho have been through together, even with an idea like this being so ridiculously obscure, he could always rely on you to support him no matter what. He saw how your eyes sparkled with wonderment and how your cheeks dusted a soft pink and it was then that he knew you would stay by his side for even more ridiculous shenanigans to come.

He would never let you leave, anyways. Even in another lifetime, he’d have you by his side forever.

“How cool do I look right now?” he asked. His voice sounded deeper and electronic through the helmet, like he was a robot or had his voice programmed through a phone like Siri. You imagined an idea like that was how Minho planned on becoming immortal one day.

You raised a brow. “You look kind of… scary?”

“Scary!? Why?”

“I don’t know, if I saw a flying robot come at me at rocket speed, I think I’d be terrified!”

“Well, if I come to your rescue, at least you’ll know it’s me.”

“I suppose. So what are you going to do now? Throw a reveal event? Press conference, perhaps?”

“That, or wait for a Demon-Level threat to pass through our city. I don’t know, whichever comes first.” Minho shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see something cool?”

Before you could agree, Minho held his palm to the sky before a neon blue blast shot out of it, disappearing into God-knows-where. You could feel the heat from the beam of light radiated around you and fear sparked inside your chest.

“What the hell was that!?” you exclaimed.

“Isn’t that so cool!? Gonna hit some suckers and fry them up like bacon!” Your boss blindly shot another beam of light into the sky and you prayed to someone out there that no planes would disintegrate in the process.

“Hey, careful! What if you hit a satellite or something!” In the process of grabbing Minho’s iron hand so he’d stop being so reckless, you burned yourself upon touching the hot metal opening like a total dumb ass and yanked your hand back. “Ah!!”

“Oh, shit.”

Quickly and haphazardly, Minho landed back on the helipad and climbed out of the iron suit. In the process of running back to your aid, he untied his black silk necktie to use as a temporary band aid on your scalding palm. Gingerly, his cold hands took yours and ran a thumb over the scarring semicircle.

“Ah ah ah stop!!” you cried with tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry! Here,” Minho wrapped his tie around your palm and tied it tightly. The pure silk felt cooling against the burn and soon your tears stopped and you couldn’t do anything else besides sniffle. “Let’s go back inside. My office has a first aid kit.”

Your mumbling and cursing boss led you back to his office with urgency, blaming himself for being so stupid and recklessly playing with what could be considered a weapon of mass destruction. And now his favorite person, the one person who believed in his iron suit, was hurt in the process, pouting cutely and holding your burned hand like you were an injured puppy. This was one of his greatest fears upon completing this project.

You sat on his sapphire blue velvet couch with the bronze-gilded frame that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room trying to alleviate the pain of the burn in Minho’s ice bucket (for his white wine, of course) while he shifted through his drawers to find the first aid kit you gave him a couple years ago.

“Do you remember when you got this for me?” he asked as soon as he pulled it out from the bottom drawer. You shook your head, too lightheaded and in too much pain to remember. He sat next to you and began to tell the old story while patching you up. “It was your third year working here, but my first day as CEO when I took over for my Dad. I got so many paper cuts from all the paperwork I had to read and sign and I got a massive headache afterwards and I just wanted to eat something because all I had that day was an iced americano. It was so late and by the time I was finished, it was maybe 7:00pm -”

“8:00 pm,” you corrected in between sniffles.

“Ah, so you do remember! At 8:00pm, you waltzed into my office wearing your comfiest clothes with a bag of take-out in one hand and the first aid kit with a million bandaids and Tylenol in the other. That night, you sat in my office and helped patch up my fingers, fed me lo mein, and helped me with the rest of the paperwork for two hours. I thought of you as my guardian angel since that day and vowed to myself that no matter what, you and I would stick by each other’s side and be the dynamic duo that we are forever. Oh, how the tables have turned tonight. Now I’m the one patching you up.”

Minho had finished wrapping your palm at the end of his story. Something about his proclamation didn’t sit right with you. Something about staying here forever, clocking in massive amounts of overtime and being subservient to the same men sounded like your own personal hell.

“I can’t be your secretary forever, Mr. Lee.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to think about that for quite some time, right?”

“Maybe.”

“I hate change, you know.”

“I, more than anyone else, know that.”

Your handsome boss chuckled lightly at the heavy subject. His curly coffe hair covered his eyes as he looked down at your hand and traced small shapes on the bandaid. You knew that he knew you didn’t want to stay here forever, and he couldn’t blame you, but it didn’t make the thought of you leaving any less heartbreaking.

“Does it feel any better?”

“Much better,” you said truthfully as the cooling gel felt like a magical potion.

“This first aid kit is the only practical gift I’ve ever received. All others are for the aesthetic.”

“Do you prefer practical gifts, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course! The fuck am I going to do with a VVS diamond-encrusted chain?”

“Flex on all the other young CEOs?”

“And partake in their pissing contest? No, thank you.”

“You’re telling me you won’t be doing that this weekend at the Charity Ball?”

“When I have you next to me, I don’t need VVS diamonds,” Minho grinned flirtatiously.

You hit his arm with your good hand and he flinched upon his correct prediction. “I am not an accessory!”

“Of course not! You are my beloved intelligent sidekick that all other big wigs tell me they wished they had! But when you look like that, it’s bonus points ~”

“Ugh, your kind are all the same!” you scoffed, trying to collect your things and storm out the door.

“It’s a compliment!” he teased. Minho managed to chase after you and grab your things to carry to his car so he could drive you home for the 1106th time.

After a long and tiring rest of the week helping your boss do target practicing with the iron suit on, Saturday had arrived and now you had the honor of accompanying said-boss to a Big Dick contest disguised as a Charity Ball. The main event was for the sake of the children of course, but the real show was to see who was wearing what designer with what accessories and who pulled up in the fanciest sports car with the youngest and sexiest date in their arms. You were so, so lucky to be working for someone who liked to stay low key, despite always being the center of attention.

“Why are you so nervous?” Minho teased, nudging your arm as you both walked up to the front doors of the venue. “This isn’t the first time you’ve played as my date.”

“I know, but it doesn’t get any easier,” you admitted, shyly covering yourself from the much-more revealing outfit now that it was tailored to fit.

“You and I look fine! Muted colors, minimal diamonds, low key attitudes - we’re perfect! No one will even notice we’re here.”

That was a complete lie, because the second you walked in, a swarm of gossip columnists and magazine writers circled around the two of you, bombarding you both with the same questions you were so used to.

“Mr. Lee, who are you wearing?”

“Mr. Lee, who’s your lovely date?”

“Mr. Lee, what’s the best way to lock in that your date will go home with you?”

Minho raised his hand slightly and all that could be heard were the cameras clicking. God, the power he has…

“Dior, a close friend, and be so irresistible that they can’t say no.”

Without another word, he gently took your bandaged hand and led you out of the circle of gossipers who were silent in awe. With your free hand, you covered up your ugly laughing.

“You’re such a cornball!” you said in between a fit of giggles.

“An irresistible cornball, at least. Now, walk me through all these people again?”

Minho was young and when it came to networking, he still had the mentality of being the CEO’s son rather than the CEO. That meant that Minho didn’t care much in remembering other CEO’s names and relied on you to remind him of all the people he should have remembered three years ago. It was a consistent hour of introductions and small talk about future goals, collaborations, and golfing, all of which you were able to expertly tune out while sipping prosecco and snacking on caviar tarts. Years of experience thankfully made these events easier.

“Did you practice your speech for your donation?” you reminded Minho after taking a seat at the prestigious Table 2. Since the company was one of the Charity Ball’s biggest sponsors, the CEOs were always invited to say some manufactured speech.

“Yeah. I even practiced it in the shower. Hopefully I get the charity organization correct this time.”

“It’s amazing how you even got this far.”

The Charity Ball should have been named See Who Can Donate the Most Money Ball because every speech given by a CEO of some company tried to out-do each other. Luckily, your company’s speeches were always last and your touch of humanity written on paper always had the audience in awe with the Minho’s compassion. To pass the time, you and Minho played rock-paper-scissors and whomever lost had to drink champagne. Let’s just say Minho ended up having the infamous Asian Glow.

His face was still blushy by the time it was his turn and you almost felt bad because the pictures with the flash turned on probably wouldn’t be so flattering in the magazines, but that wouldn’t matter because he still looks like the most stunning man in the room. All eyes were on him as he made his speech, but he had his eyes on you. Probably because he would piss his pants if he saw how many people were looking at him. You gave him two thumbs up for encouragement.

“It is the greatest honor to be here and giving a speech for the third year in a row. Children are the source and future for a better world, and it is our duty to -”

You blanked out for most of it since you wrote it. It was hard to focus anyways when his eyes were so piercing, so you averted his gaze and counted the number of peppercorns on his unfinished steak. At an alarming fifty-three, you glanced around the gallery to see if anyone was actually paying attention. Many, if not all, of the guests around your age were paying attention with dreamy eyes and pouty lips, all wishing they were in your position tonight. Some even dared to make eye contact with you as if to say, ‘how DARE you NOT pay attention to the sexiest man alive!?’ The older, more powerful guests seemed genuinely interested in the amount Minho was donating and the older dates seemed to care more about their reflection on the back of a spoon.

The fattest check with a bunch of zeros was walked onto the stage. A standing ovation was in order of course, and you conformed with the crowd, even though applause always made Minho visibly uncomfortable.

“He throws a big, fat check to charity and yet he still doesn’t like the attention, huh?”

As the clapping died down and the noise faded into the smooth hum of the live piano and jazz music, you turned to face the owner of a familiar sly voice. The man that stood before you was the famous doctor slash art collector slash playboy who you’ve come to know after attending all of these flashy events.

You smiled slyly at the man. “If it isn’t GQ’s Bachelor of the Month, Dr. Park Seonghwa.”

The raven-haired man gave you his signature smirk. Then he took your hand and kissed it tenderly like the prince he is. “Lovely _____, pleasure to see you as always.”

“Have you been doing that to all the other guests you frequent at these events?”

“Of course not! Just the beautiful ones.”

You let out a loud scoff. “You and your way with words.”

“Are they enough to convince you to finally go out to dinner with me?”

“Not quite.”

Seonghwa sighed tiredly and dropped his head as if this was the first time you’ve rejected him. Guess every time felt like the first time. The handsome raven held his hand out to you. “If not dinner, how about a dance?”

Hesitantly, you searched for your boss like you were trying to sneak away from a parent. He was busy shaking hands and catching up with The Important People’s Club, so you didn’t think one dance would hurt, though once you feed a dog a treat, he’ll be begging for more forever.

You took his hand. “One dance.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Three?”

“Dr. Park!”

“What!? Ok, fine, one dance, unless you’re really feeling it and then we’ll dance some more.”

“Maybe in another lifetime, Dr. Park.”

The young doctor led you to the dance floor before you could object further. For someone not-so-smooth with pick-up lines, he was definitely smooth with his moves. With one gentle hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, you two glide around the white tiles like the Royalty of the ball, and truly, for a few moments, it really felt like you were the star of this fairy tale.

Seonghwa let out a tired sigh. “Intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and good at dancing? How are you so good at everything?”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it! Yet no man swept you off your feet.”

“Just because I won’t say yes to you, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for that special someone.”

Seonghwa held your hand up high and made you do a little twirl. “You might be waiting for a while, beautiful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With Mr. Minho by your side twenty-five hours eight days a week, there is no man that has the courage to come in between such a strong relationship.”

“Even you?” you challenged.

“Even I. Unless you want me to -”

“Nope.”

“Ice cold heart as always…”

Song number one melted into song number two and it passed you both as you continued to discuss the hot topic of why you’re still single. It’s a conversation topic that you thought was reserved for nosy family members for you to brush off, but coming from another man who has begged for your number since you both met really put your love life into perspective. Perhaps you were too loyal to your boss…

While engulfed in the heated debate, Minho was desperately searching for his right hand where he thought you’d be - either at your seat or by the bar, but you were at neither. After receiving his order from the bar, he let the expensive gold liquid over ice flooded through his bloodstream, which led him to a group of gawking gossipers whining and gazing at the dance floor. What was all the hype about?

The sight of you in the arms of the world’s most arrogant doctor didn’t sit too well with him. The scene made him see green.

“You’re such a liar!” Minho heard you laugh aloud. “I did NOT give you so-called bedroom eyes at Yuta’s house warming!”

“You’re telling me you weren’t eyeing me up and down like a barbecued piece of pork belly dipped in sesame oil?”

“That’s because you had sesame oil on your white shirt!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Minho took another sip of his golden drink before putting it down haphazardly and waltzing towards the dancing couple. To onlookers, this scene looked like it was straight out of those cheesy love triangle dramas. The gossipy gals wondered - would Minho punch Seonghwa? Would he grab your hand harshly and drag you away to scold you and tell you how much he cared about you? Would he kiss you!?

You saw your uncharacteristically stern-looking boss approaching, and even though you’re unsure of his intentions, you still smiled brightly, as you always did whenever you saw him. Minho lightened his heavy, angry steps. Even with another man by your side, you still looked at him. How could he be mad at you?

“Hello, Mr. Minho,” Seonghwa greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. You knew your boss wasn’t the biggest fan of Seonghwa, but he politely returned the gesture anyways. Somehow you felt your heart beating in your throat - the tension on the dance floor was too high, too powerful, and you were but an awkward and nervous secretary standing on the side while two powerful men duked it out.

“Dr. Seonghwa, nice to see you again.” Minho was good at lying, but his lies never passed you. The amount of discomfort knitted in his eyebrows almost made you snicker. “Long nights at the hospital still?”

“As always, but at least it’s rewarding and enjoyable. How are your long nights at the office?”

“Can’t get enough of them, right, _____?”

“What? You’re still doing that much overtime?” Seonghwa asked worriedly. Now, was he worried because you were overworking yourself or was he worried because you were spending so much time with a man that wasn’t him?

You shrugged unapologetically. “I love that overtime pay.”

“_____, that’s not good for your health -”

“I tell them that all the time,” Minho interrupted defensively. He was always like this whenever anyone questioned the amount of work you had. To you, it was not much of a burden at all, but to anyone else, they couldn’t fathom your work hours but if they saw your paycheck, maybe they’d understand. Even your boss felt bad whenever your friends blamed him, but no matter how much he tried to convince you of a normal 40-hour work week, the duties of being his secretary never added up to just that. Therefore, your boss always felt the need to defend you and him for the sake of making sure you weren’t portrayed as his slave. “But you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only because it’s you, Mr. Lee,” you said like you’re reading a script. Somehow that doesn’t translate through the ears of the two powerful men in front of you, as your boss smiled triumphantly and Seonghwa couldn’t help but shake his head.

“If you ever want to take me up on that date, Lovely _____, you know who to call.” The most handsome man who’s ever flirted with you took your hand gently and planted a sweet, soft kiss that sent little tingles all up your arm. You don’t think you’ll ever reciprocate his feelings, but the feeling of being desired and wanted by a man really kicked up your ego and really made you think - when was the last time you ever liked someone, or someone ever liked you?

Park Seonghwa disappeared into the crowd and perhaps left the Charity Ball all together. Until next time.

Your boss turned to face you, whose stern face quickly melted into innocence as he knew what was coming by the look on your annoyed expression. “What?”

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head and mumbled under your breath, “Ugh, you are unbelievable, Mr. Lee.”

As you tried to escape, the desperate man caught your hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you for just five minutes, can you let me do that?” you snapped in a hushed volume. “Or do you need to watch over me and speak on my behalf, since you’re my Father apparently!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like that.”

“You say that every time, especially when I’m talking to another man and even more-so when I’m talking to Dr. Park. When will your sorries mean something?”

“You know I get protective over you.”

“Again, you are not my Father!”

“I know, but -”

All of the attention that was once focused on the handsome CEO and his secretary shifted to the glass ceiling that was now shattered to pieces upon the force of some dozens of masked strangers dressed in all black. Minho instinctively, though harshly, forced you down so he could hover over you so none of the glass hit you. What followed seemed to be too numbing, as all of the stimuli in the banquet hall was too much to handle.

“Get down,” Minho instructed while pushing you under one of the tables. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“Wait, but where are you -”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

“Mr. Lee!”

Of course, he didn’t listen, as Mr. Lee always did what he wanted, right? Which would normally annoy the fuck out of you, but who has the time to panic about what your boss was up to when you’re stranded under the table and shrouded by cheap table cloth linen?

Since those people had invaded and fallen from the sky, you noticed that no gunshots or any sort of violence outside of melee were heard. No purpose of the attack is even known yet, but the signs were promising, until the famous alarm was heard throughout the whole town.

“Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until all threats have been cleared. Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until -”

“Ah, yes, the richest of the rich gather here today to donate the smallest percentage of their some billions of dollars to charity,” a booming voice tisked through a microphone. “Do you feel good about your good deed of the year? Are you proud of yourselves?”

For some unknown reason, the voice paused, as if waiting for an answer or a reaction from the people. Nothing was heard besides shrill screaming and crying, which was probably what the wannabe-vigilante wanted. For the first time, you peaked through the slits of the table cloth. At the stage where Minho gave his speech was a now-broken stage with the foot of a giant robot through it. It was a very top-heavy robot that looked like it had a large cavity in its belly, whose odd shape probably served some weird purpose unknown to everyone.

“Perhaps you’ll be proud of your donations for once when we capture you all and milk you of your every last penny!” The man laughed evilly at the head of the robot. “Down with the rich!”

“Down with the rich!” his people cheered in unison.

The oddly political turn of events made the scene less jarring - it seemed like an over-exaggeration of townspeople coming together to fight for higher taxing of the rich. Then you were reminded of the Dragon-level threat by how the minions loaded up the richies with a gun pointed to their heads and the complex mechanism that loaded them up to the belly of the robot. Somewhere among the mass of people you saw Seonghwa in between another surgeon and a senior engineer at Tesla before he disappeared behind the walls of metal.

“Hey, I found another one!” someone yelled close by. “Under Table 2!”

Shit. “Fuck.”

Perhaps all those years of advance self defense classes that Minho’s father enrolled you in would come to good use this time.

By your glamorously-strapped heel, one of the masked men dragged you out from under the table. There was no use in struggling, and the man seemed quite satisfied with how you complied.

“Let’s go, darling.”

With your free foot, you dug the pointy end of the studded heel into his groin. Luckily, you can only ever imagine how painful something like that could feel. He was in so much pain that he doubled over and let go of your foot, leaving you to flee to God-knows-where after you stole his police baton.

“Don’t fucking call me darling,” you spat as a farewell.

There were too many men in between you and the emergency exit, so you had to fight your way through like in those cheesy American action movies. A bunch of kicks in the groin here and a couple baton to the knee caps there were enough to get you by half way, but then they started double-teaming on you. Of course, this was much harder, but Senior Mr. Lee didn’t give you the best sensei in the damn nation for no reason. You felt invincible even after defeating multiple double teams, but it was the triple teaming that got you stuck. You can only kick and baton so many groins at one time until two men held each of your arms and the other stole the baton.

While struggling to break free, you managed to knee the one in front of you in the chin, causing him to cut his lip with blood dripping on his cheap leather shoes. After realizing what had happened, he punched you in the cheek as punishment. Was that a bone you heard cracking?

“Try me again, bitch,” he seethed.

Out of nowhere, your knight in Iron armor landed before the one who punched you and returned the favor, sending his body through so many walls of this building that you worried about the foundation and how long you had before it collapsed.

Minho’s red and gold helmet swung sharply and the empty eyes were staring into the souls of your captors while at the same time not.

“Who’s next?” Minho threatened with his super cool and inaccurately deep robotic voice.

Both men fled the scene as quickly as possible, losing their grip and throwing you to the floor. The penny taste finally registered in your brain that yes, you were definitely coughing and spitting out blood.

The cold metal of Iron Man’s hand helped you to your feet while the other cupped your quickly-bruising cheek gently. The underlying tenderness of your boss’s touch somehow healed all pain, or perhaps it was the cooling iron. Gestures like these were so foreign that you almost forgot it was your boss behind the mask and not some handsome stranger who was ready to sweep you off your feet. It was instances like these where you wished the latter was real.

“Are you ok?” he asked gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “Go save your investors.”

A light chuckle came from Iron Man. “My driver’s already waiting outside. Are you able to run?”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“C’mon, _____, now’s not the time -”

“Do not argue with me until you save everyone, Mr. Lee.”

Minho shook his head tiredly. He knew there was no use arguing with his headstrong secretary. “You’re so stubborn. Just promise you won’t get into any trouble this time.”

“No.”

“I’m cuttin’ down on your work hours!” he yelled, blasting off to fight the giant robot thing so he wouldn’t have to hear you argue back again.

You were left with a couple of masked minions who still had the balls to attack and capture you as if you were worth more than your surprisingly above-average five-figure salary. Your copper saliva mixed with your boss trusting you enough to not die in the middle of a Dragon-level threat really pumped the adrenaline through your veins, so as one man sprinted to attack, you managed to dodge it and kick him in the throat before he could try something else. The other guy tried to sneak up behind you, but you were quicker, swinging the baton hard enough to the head to knock him out cold. The power you felt coursing through your body left you on a major high. Where were all the other minions? No way was that all…

In the middle of the banquet hall was the face-off of the century, rivaling any and all story lines from DC and Marvel combined. A tiny seven-foot-something intricately crafted and painted sheet of metal was about to fight a giant several-stories tall and several-dozen-tons heavy hunk of junk with dozens of guests they managed to scoop inside. Now how was Mr. Lee going to save the day this time?

“Lee Minho, the man of the night,” the man controlling the ship scoffed. “You will look like my childhood favorite action figure once I stuff you in a glass box in my office! A prized treasure is what you’ll be. How does that sound?”

“Sounds kinky.” You could just sense the smirk behind his mask. “Then what will you do to me?”

“Milk you of all your assets, of course! Liquidation of its truest definition! The redistribution of wealth will come easy to the people, especially with your earnings in the mix!”

“Fine, take my money. But let these people go.”

“Absolutely not! I need all the money I can get! How do you expect me to change the distribution of wealth of the entire world with just one CEO’s salary!? Mr. Lee, I thought you knew that, silly.”

“Ok, fine. You take all of our money and then what?”

“Well, kill you, of course.”

A chorus of gasps and crying were heard from the belly of the machine.

The philosophical man continued. “People like you are the very reason there is a large pay gap. You sit on your ass drinking cocktails and eating caviar and you donate to some profiting charity only a tiny percentage of what you make while all the good hard-working people are the ones bringing the big bucks into your bank account! And what do they get? Small paychecks and four hours of sleep!”

Yeah, this guy was bad, but he had his points, so you’ll cheers to that, am I right?

“Well, then where will you get your money after that? Hm?” The captain stayed silent. “Where will you get more money to sustain this utopia? Certainly not from the hard-working people who have no experience leading or handling such a huge sum of money. And certainly not from you, right? Ha! With your five-figure salary paychecks that barely get the bills paid on time.”

A heavy arm swung to try and snatch up your boss. Though the arm was so large and heavy, Minho barely managed to escape his grasp. By the silence of the once-chatty leader of the pack, you could tell that he was bothered by the words spat by the youngest CEO in the room. How dare Minho mock his hard-earned pay when his earnings were given to him on a VVS diamond-encrusted platter!? There were a couple of times where he landed a couple of hits on your boss and you should feel worried, but you couldn’t help but think he deserved it. You hated to be on the enemy’s side, but you, too, were one of those five-figure salary paycheck owners that are barely scraping by with their bills. And of course you were all for the redistribution of wealth, but this guy definitely went a little too far…

You would think that the sheer size of this oddly-shaped hunk of metal wouldn’t be able to move so fast, but it managed to capture Minho by digging its claw to the wall and sandwiching Minho in between. He couldn’t even wiggle his way out between gaps because the thing was pressing too hard against the wall. Minho could feel the metal bending from inside.

“People like you will never understand the worth of the dollar,” the captain seethed. “Not when stacks come to you in baskets sewn with gold and jewels commissioned by your Daddy. People like you, and everyone captured, need to be humbled a little. Maybe you all can learn a little something from the working class.”

“Then we die, is that right?”

“Of course! But at least you’ll die a hard-working man, Mr. Lee.”

“I will. But I’ll die a hard-working man with billions in my grave before I let you take a penny!”

The blue beam of light that you once cursed for burning a half circle on your palm you were now thankful for, as that beam of light shot your boss up in the air and freed him, taking a few fingers off of the hunk of metal with him. A couple more shots of incinerator beams later, and both arms of the robot had been severed and half disintegrated. Minho kicked the glass where the leader sat and pulled out the defenseless lump of flesh that spoke the harsh truth about the wealthy. The leader was a young man who was not much older than either you or your boss, who didn’t look afraid in the slightest. Perhaps he expected, or even wanted, to go out this way - fighting for what he believed in.

The police, who had been waiting outside for all the ruckus to die down, came in and cuffed the leader and a few of his minions who cowardly hid under the tables. Minho helped all of his investors safely come out and among the crowd you saw Seonghwa, safe and sound.

You thought after a traumatic attack that now was not the time and place to reveal who Iron Man was or even associate yourself with him, so you tried to mix in with the crowd and book it to the driver like he asked you to do before. But of course your flaunty boss wanted to do the exact opposite.

“_____, wait!”

No, no, no, no, no, what the hell! Really!? Right now!? was how Minho read your expression as he walked to you with the suit on. When the seven-foot something Iron Man stopped before you, the face of his helmet slid open to reveal an out-of-breath Minho. The entire banquet hall echoed with gasps.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you? Your bruise is getting worse!”

You could not feel anything on the left half of your face besides intense pain and somehow numbness at the same time and your limbs felt like jello and over-kneaded dough. But you couldn’t let your boss worry about you - he needs to take care of more important people right now. You’ll be fine come tomorrow once you sleep on a frozen bag of peas.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you said convincingly. “Looks like you have an impromptu press conference to deal with.”

To Minho’s dismay, all of the cameras and press and the phones of his business friends captured his face inside the Iron suit next to his famous secretary that all his business friends wished they had. He knew you hated press conferences because even though you never said anything, you were always by his side and that meant the cameras were pointed at you also.

“I can deal with them. Go to the car and go home.”

“I can stay with you.”

“I won’t allow it. You need to go home and ice your face.”

“I said I -”

“I said go.”

Minho never raised his voice at you ever because he never had a reason to. You were always hard-working and loyal and you always did everything correctly and did it with his best interest in mind. He’ll allow small things that might be detrimental to your health, like all the over time you loved to have and the unhealthy amounts of coffee you drown yourself in. But when the arm that’s supporting your body weight was shaking, your left cheek was the color of aubergine, and you had blood splatters on different parts of your body, that’s when he had to draw the line. Worry was knitted into his brows and his lips were a flat line and you only ever saw his face like this whenever he talked with his father. It was terrifying to see him almost mad at you and it made your heart sink a little that you did something wrong.

He softened his expression upon seeing your glossy eyes. “Take Monday off to rest. I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?”

“But -”

“I’ll pay you for your time off, so don’t worry about the money. I just want you to rest. Can you do that for me?” You could only nod. “Thank you. Go home - I’ll text you when I’m done cleaning up tonight.”

Minho plastered on his happy television face and returned to the fawning crowd and overly-thankful investors. You were blinded by the flashing camera lights and that was your cue that you didn’t belong there anymore.

The trot music-loving driver hummed the whole way home while driving on auto-pilot, as he had memorized the path to your apartment long ago. Sitting in the back seat covered head-to-toe in the finest satin wasn’t as luxurious when you were alone as opposed to having your equally-luxurious boss next to you. You imagined what it’d be like if a giant robot didn’t crash the party this evening: you’d probably yell at him more about how you needed space and that he was overreacting with the whole Seonghwa deal; then he might try to bribe you with food or dessert so that you’d stop pouting like a child (and you’d totally cave in); and finally, he’d walk you up to your doorstep begging to come inside once more and you’d deny his entry, only for him to leave you with a comment about how you were the most stunning person at the ball tonight.

In short, as much as you hated to admit it, the ride home was lonely. Can you believe that? Your short time alone away from your boss was fucking lonely. Not peaceful, not relaxing, not mind-clearing, but totally and completely lonely. So much so that your heart ached a little, and to put these feelings in the simplest terms, it was because you were so used to being by his side that the emptiness to the seat next to you mimicked an unfamiliar cavity in your heart. It’s a painful feeling, really, because that meant leaving this job would be much harder than you hoped.

As if he planted a tracking device in your phone, Minho texted you upon locking the front door to your place.

The Money Man [01:03 am]: did you make it home ok?

An involuntary smile spread across your lips.

You [01:04 am]: just got home. are you stalking me?

The Money Man [01:04 am]: you didn’t think the phone i gave you was completely harmless and bugless, did you? ;)

You [01:05 am]: i should have known better. how’s the impromptu press conference? are people surprised that it’s you?

The Money Man [01:07am]: they are, but at the same time it’s not. ppl keep asking me questions and won’t let me take the suit off, can you believe that!? it’s hot as balls in this thing!!

The Money Man [01:07am]: shit, gotta go - gotta somehow convince these idiots this is definitely NOT something to invest in.

You [01:08am]: text when you’re home.

The Money Man [01:08am]: yes, darling.

‘Darling’ has a nice ring to it.

Having Sunday all to yourself was normal and you did what you always did every weekend: cleaned your place, took your time making a nice meal, organizing all of your work papers, and ended the night with a hot shower and an ice pack to your cheek. Monday, on the other hand was a disaster. You were so bored! Your fingers were itching to scribble down your boss’s agenda and you were so tempted to log into your work laptop, but you knew Minho would chew your ear off for not listening to him and resting as you should. It wasn’t your fault that you were a work-a-holic!

After looking in the mirror and hating the way your face looked for the fiftieth time, it was time to accept that the bruise wouldn’t disappear for at least a couple more weeks. Sunday was at its ugliest, where the center of your cheek was a deep purple and there was this off-colored halo around the perimeter. Now, the swelling went down and it wasn’t as purple or painful, but still equally ugly no matter how you looked at it or tried to cover it up.

After a lonely and boring Monday afternoon, your doorbell rang around 5:00pm. You weren’t expecting any visitors or deliverymen, so upon peaking through your viewfinder, you were surprised to see your boss on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.

Minho was glad you didn’t seem disgusted by his presence since he was the one who told you to take the day off and you must be tired of seeing his face by now. He whipped out an oily bag from behind his back with a child-like grin on his face. It was an unusual sight to see a man dressed in a several thousand dollar business suit carrying a twenty dollar bag of dinner.

“You and I have some business to discuss.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight - you tell me to take the day off, rest up, ice my bloodshot cheek only for you to come into my home and say I need to work?”

“Yup,” he claimed unapologetically, squeezing past you to get through.

“Yes, please come in, Your Highness,” you rolled your eyes, though he was already setting up at your dinner table.

“Your home is nice. Why are you always so embarrassed whenever I try to come in?”

“I mean, look at it. It’s nowhere near as nice as your home.”

“It’s as more of a home than my place will ever be, no matter how many velvet cushions and arcade games I ask you to buy for the place.” Minho whipped out two bottles of beer, his favorite chaser to wash down the oiliness of the fried chicken, and poured them into glasses. “How’s your cheek?”

“By the look on your face, I guess not so good?”

He adjusted his twisted expression upon your teasing. Blood and bruises were never his thing, so any variation of the sort just looked bad in general. “It just looks so painful… Have you been icing it like I asked?”

“I have, and it’s not as painful as it looks!”

“Oh, yeah?”

Minho challenged your claim by standing in front of you and lowering his head to see you at eye-level. His face was way too close to be considered appropriate for CEO and Secretary relationship behavior, though you knew he never cared for those formalities. His eyes were always so sparkly per usual and that gave him that dreamy stare all the ladies in the office loved. You never saw the appeal to it until now, with only a few centimetres in between.

He poked your bruised-like-an-apple cheek.

“Ow, what the hell!” you screamed, swatting his hand away.

“Not as painful as it looks, my ass.”

“Well, people don’t go around poking my cheek all day!”

“Do you need pain killers? My doctor can write you a prescription for the best one on and off market.”

“That’s ok, I only trust Dr. Seonghwa.”

Minho gave you the same look he gave a former intern who got his breakfast and coffee order incorrect. Let’s just say the intern started crying on the spot. You, on the other hand, could barely hold in your snicker from his death glare. You were never on the receiving end of the infamous death glare and now that you were, it was hard to take it seriously.

“Ha ha,” Minho fake laughed. “Not funny.”

“What exactly do you have against him, anyways? It’s surprising that you’re threatened by the likes of a doctor and not some other hot shot software company CEO.”

“I don’t have anything against him.”

“You’re such a liar!” you scoffed, taking a swig of the ice-cold beer. “If you didn’t have a problem with him, you wouldn’t have acted so defensive at the charity ball.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said shamelessly. A vigorous bite of a chicken leg came afterwards. “He looks at you like how I look at chicken legs.”

“Well, maybe I like the way he looks at me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop doing that.”

“You deserve it for acting like my Dad that night.”

“I said I was sorry! I even bought you dinner and cold beer to make up for it!”

“Oh, so this is not because you said that me and you have some business to discuss?”

“Well, that, too.” Minho wiped his greasy fingers on his silk handkerchief that he kept on the inside of his breast pocket before whipping out his phone to show you multiple news articles on the night of the charity ball. “Watch these videos.”

Almost all of them were exposing your boss who was behind the genius that is Iron Man, but what preceded the reveals were clips of you kicking major ass. The sources came from both paparazzi and the security tapes at multiple angles and it was hard to hide the fact that it was you as all angles captured your facial features quite clearly. Headlines and whole articles talked about how the mighty CEO and his secretary were the perfect unstoppable duo and they weren’t wrong - you kicking ass in a sexy outfit with a man of iron handling the big guy? Definitely a story worth selling.

Your brows furrowed worriedly because you had no idea how Minho felt. “Are you mad…?

“Mad?” Minho paused the current video and placed his phone face-down on the table so he could focus on his good chicken and better company. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know! What’s the point in showing me these videos?”

“To show you how bad ass you look! Where did you even learn these moves!?”

“For some reason, your father thought being a secretary was dangerous enough that he decided to enroll me in some classes. I actually really liked it a lot, so I kept at it and I guess I got to a pretty advanced level.”

“Pretty advanced is definitely a misnomer, love. Well, it’s good to hear that Father has made one good decision in his reign.”

“Is this the business you wanted to speak about?” you asked shyly, hoping that the beer was a good enough excuse for your blushing cheeks. You’ll never get used to Minho praising you.

“Sort of. I have a proposition for you.”

“What, that you want me to be your sidekick?” you scoffed. When Minho remained silent with only the same sly smirk on his lips, you could see your worst fears coming true. “Oh, God, you’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious.”

“Are you out of your damn mind!? I am not sidekick material!”

“You totally are! You and I are already the perfect duo! Why not take it up a notch!?”

“No, Mr. Lee, I cannot be your secretary again, but in a different form and outfit!”

“Why not!? It’s not like I’m not going to pay you for it.”

“The pay is not the problem. The pay is never the problem. It’s…”

How do you put that the pressure of keeping the entire country safe and being by his side twenty-four/seven sounded like your own personal purgatory that you could never escape for as long as you lived, or until you died by the hands of some Demon-level threat monster?

“It’s a huge commitment, I know,” Minho admitted. “Too huge to even put a price on it. But can you at least consider it? I can’t imagine anyone else by my side except you.”

Now only if a man who wasn’t your boss said that to you without any underlying superhero context, you might have considered the proposal.

“Mr. Lee, I can’t…”

You hesitated getting the right words out, but Minho knew why. You’ve been bringing up how you couldn’t stay his secretary forever, and although he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but try to keep you anyways. You’ve been loyal to him for so long that he often forgot how to treat you like a friend and not his subordinate. But the thought of you leaving? Soon, at that? It was something he didn’t want to think about just yet. He wanted to keep you by his side for as long as he could.

Minho downed the last of his beer before whipping out his phone again. This time a slow song played over the speakers. He stood up and offered you a hand.

You raised a brow. “What are you…?”

“You and I never got to dance on Saturday. So dance with me.”

“Here? Right now? In my small ass apartment?”

“The next charity ball isn’t for another month and I don’t think I can wait that long.”

His impatience was just shy of flattering - if only you weren’t so afraid of being within close proximity to him. It was one thing when he helped ease the burn on your hand, it was another when he touched your cheek while inside his iron suit, but the two of you alone dancing in the middle of your living room was a whole other level of intimacy that needed to be hidden from human resources,

You took his hand and he led you to the living room. One hand on your waist and another holding the one with the scabbing half-circle. The two of you swayed in silent contentment for several songs. It was a comfortable silence, but there’s some hidden sadness to it that you couldn’t explain - something along the lines of him missing you dearly, despite you being right in front of him, and you missed him dearly, too. So much that your nerves made you squeeze his hand harder, asking him to not let go of you for a long time.

Then your boss pulled you in close enough that it felt like he was hugging you.

“S-Sir?” you stuttered nervously.

“Thank you,” he began. “For always being there.”

“Well, that’s my job,” you snickered.

“Not just as my secretary, but as my friend.”

“You think of me as your friend?”

“I do. Don’t tell Vice President Chan this, but I consider you one of my closest friends.”

“You’re quite soft, aren’t you?” It took a moment to register that he was definitely not joking. The tension in your shoulders diminished and you were able to relax in front of the equally-vulnerable man. “I consider you one of my closest friends, too.”

“Really?”

“By association though. After all these years being by your side, it’s only natural that I came to like you.”

“I like you, too,” he chuckled, tucking some hairs behind your ear. “A little too much, at that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“In another lifetime, I feel like you and I would be soulmates.”

“You don’t think we would be in this lifetime?”

Were you hoping to be? “Perhaps. By association though, right?”

You didn’t want to press more about any underlying meaning to his statements, so instead you looked down embarrassed. In another lifetime, in this lifetime, in multiple lifetimes, Minho thought you and him would be each other’s soulmate no matter what, because a lifetime with you sounded perfect.

A thumb gently ran over the perimeter of your cheek bruise and it tickled rather than burned, so that was a good sign that it was healing. A loud tisk came from your boss.

“God, do I really put you through this much pain!?” he cried aloud.

“Huh? You didn’t cause this - those dumbass followers did!”

“I guess, but I was the one who brought you to that event! And what about the scar on your hand, huh? I definitely caused that one.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“That’s it, I can’t be hurting you like this anymore. I can’t be putting you through all of this danger like you’re my bodyguard. I have to let you go.”

You knew he was joking when he couldn’t hold in his cheeky smile. “That is not probable cause to fire me, Mr. Lee.”

“Really? Dammit.”

“No matter how many times I get hurt, you can’t get rid of me that easily, ok? I go out on my own terms!”

“So strong willed… I almost hate it.” Minho sighed exaggeratedly before pulling you in for a real hug this time. His arms squeezed your waist tightly, letting you know that he didn’t want to let you go even if he tried. “Just make sure to give me a two weeks notice, all right?”

“Anything for you, boss.”

“I’m going to miss hearing that from you the most when you leave.”

You hit his chest lightly, but he caught your hand and held it for a few moments before leading you back to your kitchen to finish up dinner. The rest of the night wasn’t you and your boss - it was you and your closest friend enjoying dinner and some ice cream you had in your freezer.

In another lifetime, huh? Too bad you were stuck in this one.

Work has mellowed out in terms of paperwork and actually work and has instead transitioned into more press conferences and meetings with government officials regarding Iron Man. In theory, the meetings sounded cool, but you wouldn’t know for sure, as your boss decided to take one of the newer girls as his assistant for these meetings.

The first time he denied your company, you were only a little confused, but it soon passed when he said there was a lot of paperwork he only trusted you to complete on his behalf. But when he would bring her to every event - whether it was out of habit or on purpose - for an entire month, and her only, it really made your blood boil.

No, you weren’t jealous…! You weren’t jealous he was hanging out with someone younger and prettier and more his type! Definitely not! You were upset that your boss, whom you called one of your closest friends in a time of vulnerability, was already replacing you before you could put your two weeks in! And you knew this to be true when he denied your invitation to get lunch and instead you found him in the cafeteria laughing and flirting with the new girl at the table you and him would always sit at.

For a whole month, without even knowing it, you were slowly getting left behind and replaced for someone better - someone who would actually heed his every word and never argue. Someone who would keep their mouth shut for once. Someone who wouldn’t mind taking order from him forever.

It had been a month since you were living in this limbo, and tonight, the night of the Animal Cruelty Charity Ball to which Iron Man would be making a guest appearance, was when you knew he no longer needed you.

“You’re taking Ryujin…?” you repeated, as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Yes, so you can go home early if you want,” Minho said as he fixed his bow tie in the giant mirror in his office. He then turned to present to you with an ignorant grin. “How do I look?”

“Why are you taking her?”

“She’s been working hard this past month, so I thought I’d reward her with tonight and have her practice some networking skills.”

“How generous of you,” you mumbled bitterly to yourself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you help me put on this chain necklace thing? The clasp is so damn tiny…”

Reluctantly, you helped clasp the silver jewelry. While you thought your boss was heavily admiring himself in the mirror, he instead was focused on you and how your face was uncharacteristically stern.

“Are you ok?” he asked sincerely. He pressed a firm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You harshly swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”

He shrugged it off, thinking that you probably had a bad week with all of the boring work he’s been having you deal with. A lot of weird and unsettling energy was pent up inside of you for the past month, so before you exited Minho’s office for the weekend, for some reason you thought this was the appropriate time to speak on it.

“Actually, I’m not fine,” you blurted out. Minho gave you his full attention for the first time that month. “I… I’m putting in my two weeks.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’m giving you my two weeks notice.”

“Do you have a job lined up?”

“No, but I will figure that out later.”

“You don’t have another job lined up but you want to quit? Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t sound angry. He wasn’t - he was more hurt than anything else that you wanted to leave without a proper explanation. He thought you and him were doing well… What changed so suddenly?

“I can’t do this anymore,” Minho noted how your voice was shaking. “I was fine when you had me staying ungodly hours, I was fine when you had me get you coffee every morning and your dry cleaning every Monday, and I was fine when you involved with the Iron Man project, but now all you’ve given me lately is paperwork and shit that the new hires should be doing and not myself!”

“_____, language -”

“And why is that? Why do I feel like I’m starting to get left behind already, or-or why do I feel like you don’t appreciate anything I do!? It’s clear to me that you’ve already begun to replace me, so what’s the use of me staying here when you don’t want me anymore?”

Minho was silent. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or surprised at your sudden outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating and his silence even more so, like this was his ideal form of psychological torture. Minho didn’t seem to care for your feelings anymore as he turned back to face the mirror.

“Your two weeks has been noted,” was all he said.

You left the room in tears, with your blood still boiling and your heart crushed. But this was a good thing. In the end, this would be a good thing, is what you were trying to tell yourself, because this lifetime wouldn’t let you be with Minho.

Another month passed by and you were left in a worse limbo than you began with a month and a half ago. No one was contacting you about any job offers so you were left to ‘self-reflect’ or some bullshit this self-help book told you to do for the past two weeks. Luckily, all the overtime you put into your savings account had vastly accumulated into an unthinkable sum that would support you far beyond whatever the government noted as a proper unemployment time. Like, you didn’t even know what to do with the money sometimes - thank Minho for time-and-a-half, huh?

On days where you couldn’t help yourself - when you felt like torturing yourself - you would look up Minho on all the tabloid sites. Surprisingly enough, this happened way more than you’d like. Of course, as you speculated, Ryujin had quickly taken your spot as his secretary and God, did you like to shit on how terrible she was! You didn’t have to be at the office to know that Minho must be frustrated with her by the crookedness of his ties and jackets and how she must have forgotten to schedule a salon appointment by the look of his roots and unruly brows.

Ha! That’s what he fucking gets for not being grateful! That dick!

What a shame your relationship with him had come to. To spend what felt like an entire lifetime with him to being complete strangers, it was like you were reborn into this new and fresh carefree person. So carefree that you hummed on the way home with a bag full of fresh produce from the local market.

Perhaps you should have been less carefree, as a stranger snuck up behind you and knocked you out cold.

“Ryujin, where’s my document-signing pen?”

“Um, in your drawer?”

“Which drawer?”

“The one with all the other pens…?”

Minho sighed loudly, running a hand through his curly locks and staring intently at the mess of papers that scattered on his desk. His desk hadn’t been this messy since the first day he started when he had to sign all of those official documents that transitioned him to CEO. The same day when he fell for you.

Ryujin, who was nothing close to a secretary compared to you, was only getting on his nerves these days. Perhaps yes, he’s been a little too harsh on someone who’s still fairly new, but in truth he just didn’t have a way to express his frustration about you leaving all of a sudden. Where had he gone wrong?

“Take the rest of the night off,” he told his subordinate.

The poor girl bowed obediently and scurried out the room.

Another sign left the young man’s lips. This time it was because he was tired. He couldn’t deal with anymore bullshit tonight.

An anonymous FaceTime call rang his phone. Who could be wanting to FaceTime him at such an odd hour of the weeknight?

When he swiped to answer, all he saw was you tied up roughly to a splintered chair with tape covering your mouth. Minho nearly dropped his phone.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” a familiar voice sang. From the shadows behind you emerged the fake vigilante that led the invasion of the Charity Ball. “I see that you’re doing well.”

“What do you want?” he demanded quietly.

“I think you know what I want.” A shiny knife drew a line across the other cheek, small drops of blood seeping through and mixing with the dried tears and dirt. Minho’s heart felt like it was collapsing. “A blank check addressed to little ol’ me.”

“If I see another scar on them, I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

The man held his hands up high in defensive mode and took a step away from you. “Fine, I won’t touch them! Just give me what we want near the docks.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Oh, and one more thing - come dressed in Iron Man and I’ll slice their throat. Bye!”

The line cut dead and Minho had no choice but to leave empty-handed with only a blank check in his pocket.

The air inside the enclosed cargo bed was hot and suffocating and your rising panic did not ease your pain or heavy breathing one bit. It didn’t help that the guy and his minions were playing with your hair and playing with their knives, dragging the dull edges on your arms and neck. Normally, you wouldn’t be so weak and crying to the point that the tape around your mouth was loosening up, but life these days was tough and perhaps an event like this, causing Minho major inconvenience once again, was what you deserved.

Scurrying and uneven footsteps were heard from outside and you really, really hoped it was Minho not dressed in Iron Man.

“Here already? He must like you,” the leader teased.

The back of the cargo bed opened up to reveal that the sun had fallen a long time ago and the light of the moon outlined your plain and simple hero. He didn’t give the leader a second passing glance before blindly shoving the blank check to his chest and rushing by your side to untie you. First, he ripped off the tape and you let out loud gasps of air and cries.

Minho’s shaking hands take hold of your face to try to calm you down. “Hey hey, shh, I’m here. Are you ok? Are you hurt?” You shook your head vigorously, whining and trying to break free from the ropes tying you down. “Hold on, I got you.”

Before Minho could untie your hands, one of the minions hit him on the back of his head the same way they knocked you out. But your boss was stronger than that - his head was harder than his iron helmet. At the failed attempt, Minho hurled the guy over his shoulder and out the cargo bed. Your bad ass boss got up like it was nothing, but he was breathing heavily.

Not because he was tired or weak, but because he was furious.

Three more guys tried to kick his ass and it was then you realized that your boss wasn’t just some fake hiding behind an iron suit who could program it to fight. He truly was kicking their ass! Like, raw strength and all! If you weren’t scared to death, you might have thought this was kind of hot. But then Minho punched one of the guys too hard and it sent him flying over to you, to which you fell over and broke the chair. The rope was no longer tied to anything and you were free.

Yet another one of the lame-o sidekicks tried to capture you again, but now you were equally as furious, if not more, than your partner in crime. How dare they sneak up on you and not even give you a chance to fight back!? That was the definition of a weak-ass group of villains! So of course you had to show them a lesson and kick a few balls and some asses. But the number of asses was infinite and you were getting really tired. They had enough people to fight you and Minho until you couldn’t keep up and then they’d kill you easily.

“Mr. Lee, now would be a good time for one of your brilliant plans!” you begged between kicks and breaths.

“Ten seconds tops. But when I say so, I need you to hold my hand, ok?”

“What!? What are you planning!?”

“Just trust me!” You and Minho saw the leader direct the last ten of his minions to finish the job. “Ready? Three… two… one!”

A heavy force on the outside pushed the cargo bed off the edge of the pier and into the ocean with the purpose of drowning everyone in it. The only sensation you felt was ice cold water freezing your blood flow and Minho grasping your hand for dear life while trying to swim up to the surface. Before blacking out from lack of oxygen, you felt the ripples of something entering the ocean and saw a faded red and golden glow of light. Not a second later, a hollowed Iron Man on autopilot rushed you and Minho to the surface and placed you gently on the sand just under the pier. The silent night was filled with a chorus of ugly coughing fits from you and your boss. What a wonderful CEO slash ex-secretary couples activity this turned out to be.

As soon as your breathing returned to a rhythmic beat, a wet, crying, sand-covered Minho held your face in his still-trembling hands. He didn’t say a word - he simply held you and pressed his forehead to yours, making sure that yes, this was real, and not some unconscious dream where he was still in the middle of the ocean drowning. Yes, you were there with him and you were alive.

“Why are you crying? I was the one kidnapped,” you joked, hoping it’d lighten up the mood if but a little bit.

Minho laughed between sniffles and shivers, but couldn’t stop crying. He was smiling, but still crying, and if that didn’t perfectly depict this situation, you’re not sure there’s anything out there that did. Haphazardly, he planted a cold kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re ok,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why? You had nothing to do with this.”

“I’m just sorry in general. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was replacing you. I’m sorry for not buying you that cappuccino three years ago. I’m sorry for -”

What’s the only way to silence your sexy boss in a heartfelt moment like this that would complete this superhero plot line? Kissing him mid-sentence, of course. You kissed your loving boss fully, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your whole body into it. It took him a while to register that yes, his secretary was definitely kissing him, but once it did, he kissed you even harder, enough to make you fall back onto the grass with him on top of you.

You’re left breathless the moment your lips parted. “I-I, uh, I forgive you…”

“How could you ever think that I could replace you?” he muttered. “I could never. Not in this lifetime.”

“You also said that me and you wouldn’t happen in this lifetime,” you challenged.

“Lifetimes can merge into one, I guess.”

Iron Man returned to Minho’s basement as soon as his job was done, so your favorite driver picked you two up in ten minutes with plush hot towels and dry clothes to change into. The pajamas you wore already had your initials monogrammed over your heart.

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Minho began awkwardly on the car ride home. “I was going to gift them to you a couple Christmases ago, but you said that monogrammed clothing was cheesy and stupid, so I abstained…”

“... They’re not so bad,” you admitted truthfully. “Very soft.”

Coming home to Minho’s felt so wrong, yet so right. You’ve only ever been inside for business reasons, such as redesigning his closets and kitchen pantry, but now that you were here on leisure - well, after almost fucking dying - it was kind of weird. But Minho holding your hand reassured you that you were wanted here - that he needed you here, damp with salt water and all.

“Take a shower upstairs. I’ll go make some tea.”

You gladly obeyed, using your favorite shower that you helped design. The door and the walls of the shower were made of glass and the shower head hung from the ceiling, making your long, hot shower feel like it was raining. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises and it was really ugly, but you’ve never felt more badass and in control in your entire life.

You left the shower smelling like orchids and eucalyptus and entered the kitchen that smelled like ginger and honey. Minho, who had also showered, followed shortly after, stealing a kiss on your cheek that was cut up earlier that evening.

You followed Minho to his giant marble island while he poured tea into white mugs on the other side. This felt so… domestic. This felt so right. This felt like home.

“I have a business proposition for you,” he smirked slyly.

Well, that ruined the moment. “What, no ‘how have you been the past month since I replaced you with some other chick’?”

“I promise I’ll ask that after, but I need to ask you this.” Your hard-headed boss was all giddy just at the idea of it and it was the first time in a whole month since you’ve seen him smile like this. He was so, so cute.

“Fine, what is it?”

“I want to hire you back.”

“Mr. Lee, I already told you, I can’t -”

“As the Head Director of the Iron Man project.”

Your eyes widened at the prestigious title. “Head Director?”

“You stayed by my side through all the criticism and the praise and I can’t imagine a better person for the position.”

“So it’s not just a fancy title for like, super mega ultra secretary, right…?”

Your handsome man chuckled. “No, I promise.”

“Head Director, huh?” your lips slowly spread into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“On a few conditions.”

“Hit me.”

“Higher pay with time-and-a-half.”

“Obviously.”

“I get my own secretary.”

“Only if you don’t fall in love with them like I did.”

You rolled your eyes and continued. “An extra week of vacation.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Last one. I’m your date to every event from now on.”

Minho raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? And if I say no?”

“Then I say no.”

“Jeez, I’m kidding! So strict. Of course you can, on two conditions.”

“Fine.”

“You call me Minho from now on. Or boyfriend, or soulmate, or sexiest man alive, or whatever suits your fancy.”

“Deal.”

“Second,” Minho leaned in and puckered his pink lips. “Seal this with a kiss.”

You start your new job next week - after Minho cashed in one week of vacation to spend with his soulmate.

#minho #lee minho #lee know #skz #stray kids #lee minho imagines #minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho scenarios #minho scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids minho #i still hate the ending idc tho #if i had time i would rewrite it... too sleepy lolol

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urmomsmainbitch · 3 years

Text

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

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ringmyheart · 4 years

Note

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

120 notes · View notes

santigarcia · 4 years

Text

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra.

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!)

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk.

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely.

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you.

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm.

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something.

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment.

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say.

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.”

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you?

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him.

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice.

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire.

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak.

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly.

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours.

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.”

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank.

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing.

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on.

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.”

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction.

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently.

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.”

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard.

This is it.

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.”

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip.

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks.

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder.

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again.

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks.

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him.

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.”

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing.

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.”

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed.

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh.

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.”

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then.

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb.

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell.

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you.

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open.

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you.

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him.

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?”

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest.

“Then let’s get you home.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face.

It was Ezra.

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are.

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra.

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves.

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek.

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet.

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul.

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue.

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home.

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting.

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue.

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home.

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily.

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.”

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no.

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours.

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream.

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?”

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast.

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall.

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.”

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down.

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist.

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.”

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him.

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle.

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.”

You sniffle again and nod.

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real.

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that.

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you.

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed.

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease.

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands.

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you.

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.”

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes.

“What?”

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear.

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down.

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh.

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh.

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?”

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

taglist: @agentpike, @aliciaxglasgow, @bisexual-space-slut, @blancatobarxoxo, @damndamer0n, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @giselatropicana, @huliabitch, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @itspdameronthings, @javihoney, @knittingqueen13, @limenlimon, @magicsuperheroes, @mandoplease, @marvel-dameron, @melanietrancy, @mitchi-c, @pajamasecrets, @pascalplease, @pascalz, @perropascal, @phoenixhalliwell, @punkpascal, @shadow-assassin-blix, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce, @the-bird-suit, @thehippiequilter, @this-cat-is-dea, @tintinwrites, @wakalas, @xremember-me-notx

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#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#ezra #prospect #my writing #mine #SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER OMG

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knowltonsrangers · 4 years

Text

Alphabet: Lafayette

[a/n: Here’s Laf!! For the lovely @thefanficnerd ❤️Hope u enjoy! ❤️]

Marquis de Lafayette x reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Anytime, any place, anywhere. Between tucking loose hairs back behind your ears, to looping your fingers together in a tight hold, the answer to affection is always yes. Laf shows affection in his own ways, and it’s these little things that send you into a flurry.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Oh, literally the sweetest guy! He’s a good friend, because he’s an excellent listener and is brimming with amazing advice. He’d always give you a choice, and never turn his back. If something were to occur with your friendship, he wouldn’t get mad and blow you off. He’d like to talk it out and make amends, if plausible. Text him at 3 am? He’ll answer moments later. He’d be there every step of the way, no matter what!

The friendship could start literally anywhere. Laf is a little less shy then Baker, so he’d spark a conversation just based on the shirt you’re wearing. Sitting next to him in a long lecture hall is always entertaining, because passing notes or working on assignments together is almost a given.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

OH BOY YES. Switches between big & little spoon, but I’d say he’s 75% of the time big spoon in cuddling. Just cause he’s always wanting to show how much he loves you, and when he’s got you in front of him, it takes so much willpower to not kiss you silly. He cuddles in bed, and snuggles on the couch.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh yes! Yes to settling down, for sure! It’ll only take a couple months of dating to see how much of his heart he gives to you, so moving in together is a given if you are down for that!

About cooking & cleaning, man he is absolutely the best roommate on those types of things. While you both have designated chores and such when it comes to cleaning, cooking is where it becomes fun. Time in the kitchen is best spent, because of the shared meals and laughs. Getting to make dinner together is almost as fun as eating it together!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I hate to say it, but Laf is pretty loyal to a fault. He’s extremely trusting and maybe that goes over his head sometimes. If he had to break up with you for a reason, I’d take him some time alone to really think it over. It would most likely be an argument that would ignite the fire, but maybe a build up of things start the sparks.

Breaking up would be absolutely in person, and it would be calmly stated. No fighting, because his hearts already shattered.

(this made me so sad to type ffffs)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is 100%! When you got him, he’s yours. He wouldn’t jump down your throat about marriage, but it would come up naturally. Because it only takes him a short time to know that your his soulmate, and whenever you’re ready, he’ll wait until then!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

GENTLE is like the word I use the most to describe Laf! (especially TURN! Laf) regarding physically, his touches are feather light and full of emotions. Emotionally, I’d say he has a better guard up than most. Similar to Baker, it’d take a low blow to see him get upset or angry. He’s careful with his feelings, but he’s very open with you about them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

If y’all ain’t holding hands, y’all are hugging. Laf loves to slide his arms around your shoulders and squeeze you silly. He loves to mumble how much he loves you in your ear, and press kisses all along your temple. 🥺

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I’d say after six months, give or take. If one of you were to go away for a while, he’d probably say it then, because half his heart is missing when you’re not around. He’d either say it in a moment of confidence, or a moment of vulnerability. If you say it first, all his doubts vanish and he’ll reply energetically the same!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

35%? That’s a bit much, and I don’t see him as a jealous boyfriend type! it’s not so much that he’s insecure, but it’s that he enjoys and cherishes his memories with you. If someone else were to wedge in and divide your relationship in half, he’d be jealous of the less and less time spent together.

And on what he’d do? He’d talk to you about it. Pull you aside about it one night. He’s eager and willing to find a solution!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

ANGELIC. No cap! Soft and fluttery and warm. He loves to kiss you on the corners of your mouth, but kisses are never scarce just at the tops of your cheekbones. Kissing away any sad day tears :,)

He loves to be kissed on the underside of his jaw, but he melts when you peck him on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

BEST. Dad mode? Activated. He’ll sit himself right on the ground, no matter where, and carry on a conversation with a child for as long as they’d like. If you have family that is younger or an infant, he’s all over them at gatherings and such. His voice is so caring and soft, and his accent floats along with his words in such a calming tone.

Babies fall asleep in his arms INSTANTLY

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

smooching over coffee or tea. Just kidding! Well, kinda. Good Morning kisses are a must, and while it’s very difficult to get out of bed, y’all drag each other out. Monday’s it’s Laf, Friday’s it’s usually you. By the end of the week, you’re wiped out, and Laf is just a bundle of energy.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

MOVIE DATES AND DINNER DATES AND WALKS IN THE PARK AND HAND HOLDING AND FEEDING DUCKS. Could all be in one night or just several different dates. It doesn’t matter, Laf just enjoys doing the simplest things with you!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Rather slowly, I’d say? It’s just by his nature to want to hear the most he can about you, because he’s throughly interested. He just wants to know your favorite color, food, season.. literally everything! And don’t be discouraged that he’s not sharing his favorites with you, just ask :) He actually doesn’t even realize that he’s withholding information. There is no keeping secrets with him!

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It takes a lot, and I mean a LOT to get Laf angry. He is so usually calm and collected, that seeing him in an angered frenzy is kinda shocking. If you catch him on a bad day, be careful to note that it’s most likely not his intention to direct any anger at you. If he catches himself being cross with you, expect a dozen apologies and kisses later.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t have a photographic memory, but it’s pretty damn close! Birthdays, anniversaries, and important dates are always on his calendar!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you said you loved him back 🥺 he’d be, for lack of a better term,,, apprehensive of your response? If you say you do in fact, love him? His heart leaps in his chest and he all but jumps for joy. He’s opening his heart to you, and he’d remember that moment forever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

BIG MAYBE. He’s not overprotective-but if some guy or gal was getting up in your business, unwanted attention of course, he’d throw an arm around your shoulder and assert his relationship to you very clearly.

Him, on the other hand, will wave you off and say that he’s fine to handle himself in these situations, because he never wants to see you get hurt. But, by all means, glue yourself to his side and shoo the other person away. A sad Laf is a sad y/n.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

10,000%. See’s a daisy outside Washington’s HQ and brings it back home to you. Because it “reminded him of you”

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaves coffee mugs out until they stain the bottom with brown rings.

Hm. Also known to vacuum at odd hours.

OH and the only other thing he’s guilty of is sometimes forgetting to kiss you exactly every possible moment of the day.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s effortlessly extremely attractive. He’s about as concerned as a mouse.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

THE PHATEST YES IN ALL THE UNIVERSE

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Laf has a U.S. quarter collection. Don’t @ me.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s not a fan of a messy house. While he is so guilty of leaving small things about, he’d never scold you for leaving your keys on the floor because they just missed the hook. But he can’t live in a mess. His desk is always tidy and beaming with professionalism.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleeps 8 hours a day! Snoozes with you are always a 10 on his scale. He’s always ready to fall into a nap with you, suffocating you into a hug to cuddle. Laf snores, just a bit. Not loud enough to wake you!

[tag list!: @shieldblacksailsonfrontier @thefanficnerd @simvez @viper-official @the-anxious-youth @boredthreatrekid ]

#sul writes #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette #turn lafayette #turn amc #turn washington's spies #lafayette x reader #alphabet prompt

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sideblogformindtrash · 4 years

Text

CW: Deshumanization; conditioning; Death; Pet/slave whumpee; drugs mention; self-hatred; touching;

for context: is a few years before events with Haru and others.

The pet was unnerving him. He wanted to do something. Orfeu tumbled their fingers on the table, but that wasn’t helping, so they clutched their arms instead. Arms far too thin, nails that easily dug onto the skin.

But people were already looking at him weird from the moment he stepped in. He had money today – he really had. He paid for his food, and even if he looked ragged and filthy, he still had the right to be there. Right…?

But of course, he was still the demon and he would always be a demon. A fairly ragged one right now. And people already thought he was weird so… So what did it matter if he made even more of a scene?

He used to enjoy the company of the ghosts, their stories and peaceful slow half-existence. They were always so mysterious, and quiet too… But not the pet ghosts, those were something else. Anyone who had suffered just… too much in life… and couldn’t face death.

And he only saw those once he came down the mountain, into the mundane world. The priests always told him about how corrupted and evil the people downhill where and… sometimes it really seemed like it was true.

There were no pets up on the mountain. Not alive, and not dead. Everyone was a slave of god, sure, but that was fair and kind and just. No man was slave to one another. He didn’t knew the pets even existed. And it made him nauseous when he found out. He wanted to run up the mountain again but… He could never go back. He belonged to the mundane world now.

…And here, there were pets, alive and dead. The pet was crying, pleading, desperately begging and trying to grab the attention of a man eating on a table, completely oblivious to the absurd suffering of the creature at its feet. Judging by the looks – the long, black clothes – it might be one of the trainers. The ghost was clinging so hard to the person who might just be the cause of their pain in the first place. But what else did they knew?

He sighed. Fuck it, he decided, gathering the courage to walk up to them. People were already looking at him weird anyway so what did he care?

He walked up to the trainer’s table and kneeled by the side of their chair, right in front of the flickering, colorful person, half-defined by lines of neon-displaced colors that shifted and changed. Just enough so that he could see them.

The trainer immediately glared at him. The man was obviously used to having people kneeling by them… but not a strange, ragged teenager, at a dinner. And he knew the trainer must have thought he was a stray or something like that. He spoke before the man could.

“Stop. Pet. Stop, you have to stop. Look at me.” He was harsh, sure, but he doubted he could get the pet’s attention otherwise, when they were so badly crying and wailing. Besides… it worked. “Yes, good. He can’t hear you. So stop. He can’t see you either. You need to stop.”

The trainer raised an eyebrow, now with a perfect ‘what the fuck’ look. He was about to speak again, so Orfeu quickly turned to him and smiled, pretty sure that seeing his perfectly sharp teeth would be enough to make the man quiet for a few more seconds.

“T-t-trainer T-To-dd- s-s-aid I-It h-had t-t-to be g-good…” The ghost sniffed, managing to look at him “T-they won’t… Won’t t-t-talk e-even i-it is. I-is it b-being p-punished? C-can Sir t-talk to pet?”

“You aren’t being punished. They can’t see you, or hear you. They really can’t.”

“-W-wh-why?” they looked desperate. And Orfeu hated that question because the truth was painful and no lie would ever suffice.

“Because… Because you are dead” He bit his lip, letting the tiny points show trough.

“Kid, just what the fuck are you-“ the man said, on an annoyed voice.

“I’m helping you trainer Todd” they said, with a mocking tone on that last part, basically hissing at them “Unless you want to get haunted forever. You probably deserve it. But the poor ghost doesn’t”

“Wait… is that a runaway?” Someone asked to the trainer, who shrugged, picking up their phone to snap a picture.

“I think it’s just high!” a lady cut, shaking her head in disapproval.

“High on Christ, lady. I’m doing God’s work here.” He raised his hands up, just like at the sermons “Y’all with me? Singing hallelujah, hands to the air!”

“Th-tra-trainer is i-is a-angry” they lost the ghost’s attention, shit. They were staring at the man again, ready to go back to its babbling.

“Not at you” he cut quickly, so that the ghost wouldn’t get lost again “Look. You can’t do this forever. You can’t keep following them. Please. You are dead.”

They shook their head clutching their tiny hands against the trainer’s leg, incapable of letting go. The man must have felt a shiver, with the ghost touching them… without really touching. But they were cold. The dead were cold.

“H-h-how c-can y-you S-sir s-see pe-e-t i-if i-it’s dead…?” They asked, clinging so hard to the fucking bastard that hurt them… Just like Orfeu remembered doing so many times too. Who the fuck was he to judge?

“I made you a question! How do you know my name?” The trainer said with his hands into a fist. Yes, he definitely was thinking he was one of theirs. And that was a headache he didn’t want to deal with right now. He wondered if they had noticed the whip lines on his back. He looked with the deadliest expression he could manage.

“Because I’m an aberration of nature and god has cast a curse on me upon my birth” Answer worked for both questions –trainer and ghost-, but he said it a bit too harshly, then regretted it as the pet flinched. This almost was enough to send the colors that formed them into a prism.

Orfeu wanted to beat himself for it now the pet really doesn’t need to see him angry. He is the last person he can interact with and… He should at least be kind. He didn’t have to help, it wasn’t his problem but… he decided to do it so now it was his problem. They seemed to stabilize a little bit after a moment.

“See? He is high!” the lady repeated.

“…He looks sick” A worker from the store suggested, trying to de-escalate the situation.

“Please. You can’t cling to them forever. I know is scary but… But nothing can hurt you anymore.”

He offered a hand, a bit hesitantly. He hated hated hated being touched by the ghosts but… they needed the warmth. Those lost eyes carried only fear and loss and pain. They deserved a little bit of warmth, just this once.

The ghost hesitantly leaned forward… and let their hands touch, just slightly. Their eyes lit up as they felt… touch. Real, solid touch, like they hadn’t felt since… Who knows? They got a bit too excited and jumped on them, craving a hug… eyes absolutely glimmering with joy. Their colors stabilized so much they almost looked like a human again. Orfeu gasped, but tried to stay still and let them.

The touch wasn’t nearly as nice on his side. It was only half-real. And it was like ice. A shiver ran through his spine, color drained of his face and all his body feeling cold.

“What the hell? Is he having a stroke now?” noise of people around him. Someone threw a… table towel over his shoulder. He didn’t move. The trainer seemed to be on the phone.

“E-e-enough” he said, teeth clattering. The ghost backed down, and stared at him, horrified.

“D-did it… caused this?” their eyes widened, they blinked in and out of reality “is…is it…really…?”

“…Is fine… Y-your suffering has ended. The worms have been fed. You can rest” he said, trying to keep his head in place, make sense of his own thoughts “You… you remember your name?”

“It… It has a n-number….006778… b-but n-name…” they looked down, at their hands, multicolored, multi-dimensioned “No… it-it doesn’t. I-it d-desn’t… have one”

They cast a terrified look to the trainer, who was somewhere on the back, still on the phone. There is people moving around them awkwardly too, discussing something. Someone seems to be making a video.

“Kid are you okay?” some employee was kneeling in front of them now, their image somewhat merging with that of the ghost.

“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here. I’ll help you, I promise” Orfeu says, clutching the table cloth to retrieve his warmth faster, as the worker frowns, confused “I can go and ask for your files. If you feel like you need this to… to go on.”

“..G-go…w—where?” they asked again, tear streaming down their ghostly face.

“Kid, you don’t look okay. You need some water?” the worker’s voice is less real than the voice of the ghost now, and it doesn’t matter.

The pet lifted their eyes, glimmering and fearful. The people around them were closing in, so despite having nearly no heat left… they grabbed the pet’s arm and pulled them up, before they became too un-real to be held.

They walked out of the store, despite protests of the people around him. He couldn’t force the pet to follow him but… Luckily they did. At least they wouldn’t spend years tied up to the asshole trainer-guy until the man died too… And then wander alone forever wondering when the punishment would end.

“…I… I don’t know” Orfeu admitted, frowning “…Back home I guess. Same place where…. Where you were before you were born.”

“D-d-darkness” the ghost whispered, now not even bothering to… walk, just floating behind them “t-t-that’s what… was…”

“…And rest. Isn’t… Isn’t that right?” Orfeu asked, uncertain. People on the street now being disturbed by the weird teenager talking to fucking nothing, drapped on an ugly table cloth, half-running away from the diner.

The ghost didn’t answer, letting their head hang low.

“T-they… T-t-the t-t-rai-ner w-was p-punishing it… i-it thinks” they said, after a while, as Orfeu led them into less populated streets “i-it… i-it…r-reme-member… a… n-needle a-and… p-pain…. A-a lot o-of … pain… i-it c-couldn’t… h-handle i-it…b-but t-trainer s-said i-it ha-had too…”

“…But you really couldn’t.”

“I-it… really couldn’t”

Orfeu looked over their shoulder wondering if someone had followed them. Apparently not… But looking back wasn’t a good think for an Orfeu to do, he reminded himself. Only forward.

“You… You know you are outside now? It’s… It’s no longer the white hallways”

“I-is it?” they clutched the hands to their chest, looking around… and seeing for the first time, it seemed “Oh!”

“See… It’s… It’s not so bad now, is it? You like the flowers?”

“T-they… are pretty…” they nodded then closed their eyes, letting their non-body fall down on the floor, sitting crossed-legged.

“It… It is tired” they said, stopping, in the middle of an empty street, looking at the sun, and the houses and the flowers “I… I am tired”

“…You… You can rest now” he stopped too, looking as the ghost’s shape was less and less visible, a glimpse of foreign color under sunlight “I’ll… I’ll find were you are and leave you flowers.”

“I… I think I will” they stared a little longer “C-can you hold me? Just another moment… please? If… If you are not too cold”

He nodded and opened his arms again, giving the poor ghost a sad smile, sitting on the floor with arms opened. The ghost leaned into him, a sad, but peaceful expression. Acceptance.

They slowly faded, this time, for real. The ghost was un-made, leaving Orfeu alone, shivering on an empty street, despite the blazing hot sun, wrapped on an ugly table cloth of a dinner they could probably never go back into.

tag: @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone @twistedcaretaker @cupcakes-and-pain @oofthatsgottahurt

#oc whump #whump #orfeu and haru #screams in trying to interact with four different planes of existence at the same time #whump writing #is this confusing im sad #he pulling a ghost whisperer episode here

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yanagiin · 4 years

Text

CANCER

cancer- my chemical romance (covered by 21pilots)

relationship: tsukishima kei x reader

synopsis: she had cancer but he was oblivious to the signs. his last words?

warning: angst, illness, death, swearing, cheating

i don’t know the symptoms for cancer and this is my first fic so pls forgive me for any mistakes

“you have cancer.”

it’s been a week. a week shes known she was sick. sitting on her desk, her face buried into her arms, looking off to the side.

“how do i tell him?”

“tell me what?” y/n visibly flinches at the sudden voice of her boyfriend, kei.

“oh nothing!” she says w a fake smile. how is she supposed to tell him. what was she supposed to tell him. that her hair was falling out? that she was potentially dying? he just shakes off her unusual behavior and sits across from her.

“so are you gonna come by practice later?” he asks her.

“ah i can’t I have uhhh” she trails off, “grocery shopping to do for my mom!” truth is she had a doctors appointment, but he didn’t have to know. she didn’t want to be a burden. since when did she do grocery shopping the tall blonde thought.

this suspicious behavior has become a daily thing, he noticed that she would run off right as the last school bell rings. until one day he saw her get in a car with another guy. so that’s why huh?

hey kei wanna go mall later?

sent at 1:47

said boy stares at the text from his girlfriend. he knew she was cheating so why not have some fun right?

sure

y/n arrives at the mall and she sees girls swarming her boyfriend. she pouts, but doesn’t get jealous as she trusts he won’t do such thing. she waits till the girls leave to approach him. tsukishima has a smirk evident on his face.

“where do you wanna go?”

“can we go to the costumes and cosmetics first?” she says with a smile. the morning of she witnesses the hair already falling out faster than she expected. he shrugs and mentally grins to himself as he sees her smile dropping at his blunt response.

“why do you need wigs? need new hair to look pretty?” his words stung her but she hid her expression.

“why don’t you just tell him?” y/n’s brother said standing at the door way.

“i just want to enjoy the rest of my time with him w/out.”

“but-” he was cut off by his sister walking past him and shutting the door.

“want to walk me home?” she asked. he replied with a shrug, heading towards her house. they got to her driveway when he saw the same car. the same car she got in with another guy.

“oh no he’s still here...” she says with fear when she saw that her brother’s car still in the driveway. fear that he might expose her secret. tsukishima looks at her with disgust, but she was to worried to notice. “you can just drop me here i can get to the door fine! bye kei! love you” she says running to her front door.

it’s been a week, more hair has fallen out, she had gotten permission to wear hats and her hoods from the faculties as they knew about her condition. but her boyfriend has surprisingly not noticed but someone did. his best friend, yamaguchi tadashi.

“are you okay y/n-chan?” the freckled boy asked with a worried visage.

“I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. not even kei” she trusted the boy as if he was her brother. “I have cancer.”

two months ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. but in the last two weeks, tsukishima became more distant. she became worried and went to his practice after school.

“is kei here?” everyone stared at her as if she has grown a third head. hinata then walks up and says something that made her heart drop.

“oh he just left with his girlfriend, who are you?” of course they didn’t know about her. she never went to his practices, she was too busy with her appointments.

“ah okay. sorry for the interruption!” she bows and takes her leave to look for her boyfriend. but stops when she sees the blonde making out and groping a girl from class 1-5. watching as they touch eachother as if they can’t be disrupted by anything. her eyes filling with tears and anger. she walks up to her boyfriend and punch him square on the jaw.

“ow! WHAT THE FUCK” he shifts his attention to his girlfriend that is shaking her hand to rid the pain. the commotion caused the team to come out of the gym. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOURE DOING YOU SLUT?” he yells at her. she was taken aback. slut? “YEAH DONT THINK I HAVENT SEEN YOU SNEAK AROUND WITH THAT BOY TOY OF YOURS?!”

his insults being cutoff with a slap. the sound resonates through the wind. “FUCK YOU TSUKISHIMA KEI!” with that she runs off to the direction of her house. yamaguchi then steps up.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB?!? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” punching the blond once again and grabbing his collar to bring his face close.

“IM DUMB?! SHES THE WHORE WHO FUCKING CHEATED!”

“SHES NOT CHEATING! GET IT THROUGH YOUR DAMN SKULL! SHE HAS CANCER, BUT YOURE TO DAMN BLIND TO SEE THE SIGNS! SHE COULDNT GO TO OUR PRACTICES BECAUSE HER APPOINTMENTS. DID YOU EVEN NOTICE HER HAIR FALLING OUT? SHE STARTED WEARING HATS AND WIGS BECAUSE YOU CALLED HER UGLY FOR BUYING WIGS! BUT NO. YOU DIDNT NOTICE BECAUSE YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS BUSY FUCKING OTHER GIRLS TO NOTICE.”

by this point, the rest of the boys are pulling them apart.

“w-what?” the blond was appalled. she had cancer? the wigs, the hats, coughs and hacks. it made sense now. “b-bu-but who was that guy she rides with?”

“her fucking brother who came back from the states to see her!” yamaguchi shakes the boys off him and starts walking away.

tsukishima starts sprinting to the direction of her house. why didn’t she tell him? how would he have known if she didn’t tell him?

he comes to a stop, when he sees an ambulance drive off from her house. the tall boy knocks on the door to see her mom open the door. “where’s y/n?” her mother starts crying. and he knew.

“let’s go to the hospital” he looks to see y/n’s brother heading down stairs with a coat. the blond nods and gets in the car with the h/c hair male.

“she didn’t want to tell you yanno? she wanted to enjoy the time she had left with you.” the car ride was silent. when they got to the hospital, the two men quickly jumps out and heads to the front desk. as they entered they saw her fragile figure barely holding on. her lips are chapped. her color is fading fast.

it’s been hours when they’ve arrived, she still hasn’t woken up. tsukishima looks at the time and realizes visiting hours are almost over.

“I’ll be back, okay?” leaning over to give her forehead a peck and exits out the door.

but he never went back, he couldn’t stand the view of seeing her so delicate, so pale, so tired. it’s been weeks since he has last seen her. but he remembered that all she wanted was to spend time with him.

putting on his shoes he gets up and heads to the hospital. he arrives at the front desk and requests to visit y/n. he was met with the most dreaded words he never knew he would ever be met with.

“im sorry sir, but it says that she didn’t make it” the lady at the front said.

the day of the rosary came, he didn’t want to face the fact that she was actually gone. tsukishima enters her house and passes the strawberry shortcake he has brought to her mother. in the middle of the rosary he walks up to y/n’s room.

her room was decorated with anime posters and many plants. there was a cork board on the wall, photos of all their dates and her friends. on her desk was a framed selfie of their trip to tokyo. tsukishima resting his chin on her shoulder pouting while she holds up a peace sign with a big smile on her face. next to the picture we’re two dinosaurs. one is a brachiosaurus and the other is a triceratops. she would always say that the two toys were them and always kept the two together.

he picks up the framed picture and takes out the picture. he wanted to remember her. as he was taking out the photo a note slips out. he glances down at the note and read aloud,

“hi kei bae!! if you’re reading this you wanted to keep the photo right? anyways im writing this just in case anything happens to me. oh yeah i have cancer! ta da!! yeah yeah it’s not a good thing but hey, I wanted to spend all my time with you. so pls grab the picture with this and the box under my bed. there should be more photos for you. well i guess this is it. sayonara kei. ♡

-love y/n

he grabs the box under her bed to see all the photos she has take throughout their relationship. what broke him the most was a dinosaur post-it note on the bottom. it read “i love you my dino boy<3”

he never got to say goodbye, he was scared for the closure. he wanted her warmth, her soft lips against his, her angelic laughs, his shoulder to lean on. she was always there for him. his last words to her was not “i love you” or “see you later” he just wanted to hold her in his arms one last time. holding the pictures in his arms, crying his eyes out.

“sayonara y/n♡”

#tsukishima x reader #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x reader #tsukishima kei #hq angst #angst #Spotify

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waywardaardvark79 · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 2, Episode 2: Everybody Loves a Clown

Summary: Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: Dean X Reader, Sam X Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Show level violence, language

Word Count: 18,709 (I’m so sorry)

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I’m still not sure on a set schedule for this. I’ll try to get the next episode out as soon as I can. Tags open.

You focused your eyes on a single glowing ember that seemed to float effortlessly through the night air. You tried your best to follow its path, a loud popping sound making you lose your focus, your attention falling back on the pyre and the burning body in front of you. John's body.

It was a moonless night, the only light coming from the pyre, as you stood in tense silence between Sam and Dean. You glanced over at Dean, who was standing about a foot away from you. He had his hands shoved into his pockets as he stared into the flames. His stance was ridgid, the expression on his face was devoid of any emotion.

His indifference would appear cold to anyone that didn't know him, but you knew that he was doing everything in his power to hold it all together. The truth was in his eyes. They told the story that the rest of his body tried to keep hidden. Swirling inside those green irises were a multitude of emotions. Despair, melancholy, guilt, self loathing, to name a few. They were the eyes of a broken man, the eyes of a man that was lost with no idea how or if he could ever get back to the person he was before.

You turned your attention back to the pyre, your own guilt eating you up inside. You couldn't help but blame yourself for John's demise. If he had only made a deal to bring Dean back and not you too, he'd still be here. Sure, the Colt and the bullet would be gone, but John would still be alive. Sam and Dean would still have their father, and you knew that in time they would both get over losing you. After all, John would be a lot more useful in the fight ahead.

You could hear Sam shifting back and forth on his feet, and you looked in his direction, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He was near tears, fidgeting uncomfortably as he stared at the pyre. You reached out for his hand, and laced your fingers with his, the pair of gloves you snatched from the hospital squeaking a little.

You looked down at your hand that was joined with his and noticed that Sam seemed to be holding onto you for dear life. Your hand looked so small in his. It reminded you of how a child's hand would look clutching onto their parent's hand, your mind quickly changing when you looked Sam in the eyes.

Despite his height and towering build, he looked so small in that moment. His shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes red rimmed and glassy as he did his best to hold back his tears. He looked like a heart broken little boy, and you wanted nothing more than to protect him and take his pain away.

You steeled your shoulders, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze as you turned your attention back to the pyre. You knew that you had to push down everything that you were feeling. You had to lock it all up somewhere deep inside of yourself because your feelings didn't matter right now. You knew that the only thing you could focus on was getting the two of them through this the best you could.

"Before he...before, did he say anything to you? About anything?" Sam quietly asked, breaking the silence.

"No. Nothing." Dean replied, not looking at Sam, his attention still on the pyre, you giving Sam's hand another squeeze when he let out a small, defeated breath.

The three of you had gone back to Bobby's, and you each slipped into a rather monotonous routine. Dean pushed everyone away, always insisting that he was completely fine. You weren't shocked by his behavior. You knew him too well, and you knew that he would be looking for anything to use as a distraction.

He threw himself into fixing the Impala, and the two of you generally avoided each other, only meeting up late at night to drink yourselves into oblivion. You knew that he needed his space, and you were more than happy to give it to him, only going to him when he sought you out.

You were sure that this type of interaction would be problematic for most people, but you completely understood. You knew that nothing you said to him would change anything, or make him feel better. So, why talk about something that you can't change? Dean never was the one to talk everything out, to lay everything out on the table. He held his cards close, and his walls were high. You couldn't blame him. You were the same way, both of you choosing to bottle everything up and pretend that everything was okay.

It would work for a little while, but you knew that he was a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later something would set him off, and all of that pent up emotion would come pouring out. So, you did the only thing you knew to do. You kept your distance, and just hoped that you would be able to put him back together when he broke.

When you weren't sleeping off yet another hangover you were with Sam. You listened to him vent every frustration he had without interruption. You offered whatever advice you could, and tried your best to convince him to just let Dean be. Sam was just wired differently than the two of you though. He needed to discuss every little detail, and it was almost as if he took offense to the fact that you and Dean didn't.

You and Bobby continued to tiptoe around each other. The awkwardness and unanswered questions of the fight the two of you had before the accident reared its ugly head now that you were back among the living.

There were no cross words spoken between the two of you. In fact, there were no words at all. You were afraid that if you tried to have a conversation with him you would blow up. You had so many questions, and you knew that he had answers. But, everytime you thought about approaching him you stopped yourself. You were afraid that you wouldn't be able to control yourself. You were so incredibly angry with him, and you felt so betrayed.

It wasn't only Bobby that you were angry with. You were just angry in general. There wasn't one specific thing. It was everything honestly, and you found it growing worse as the days went on. You found yourself losing the battle to push it all down, and you were afraid that the next little thing was going to end up setting you off.

You had managed to distance yourself from everyone for most of the day. The house was now relatively quiet. Bobby had gone to bed hours ago, Sam was upstairs going through some of John's things, and Dean was still outside. You were sitting on the couch, your journal open in your lap, with the TV on in the background for noise.

You flipped through the pages until you came upon a blank one. You had been trying to remember what happened at the hospital, but you could never come up with a full sequence of events. It was all flashes, a giant jigsaw puzzle with too many missing pieces.

You thought that writing down what you could remember might help bring everything back, but you didn't know where to start. The gaps were too large and the things you could remember made no sense to you. Still, you knew that you had to try.

You could remember feeling like you were somewhere that you shouldn't be. Different colors started to flash through your mind, and you tried to clear all of your other thoughts to focus on them.

At first there was green. You scribbled the color down in your journal, your pen absentmindedly underlining the color as you thought back on what it could mean. You jotted down the word "outside" before following after it with a question mark. You couldn't be sure, but you had a gut feeling that the place you had been was somewhere outdoors, rationalizing that the flashes of green you kept seeing could be that of trees.

You looked down at the paper, the end of your pen held loosely between your teeth as the next color flashed through your mind. B-L-U-E, you wrote, carefully printing each letter. You found yourself tracing over each letter as you struggled with the memories that color brought.

Blue was a contradiction. One moment you found yourself completely uncomfortable, the color bringing out feelings of fear and dread. However, a split second later everything you were feeling about that color completely shifted. Blue no longer made you fearful or filled you with dread. No, instead you felt comfort, relief, thankful even. You couldn't understand the drastic change. Nothing you could come up with made any sense. Still, you wrote down the different feelings under the word blue before moving onto the next color.

You had no trouble remembering the next color. You also understood all of the feelings attached to it, and didn't think you could forget them even if you wanted to. Y-E-L-L-O-W, you wrote, underlining it harshly.

You could still see those yellow eyes clear as day. You could remember the way they raked over you and the way they lit up with glee whenever he spoke to you. He always did seem to get some kind of sick enjoyment out of toying with you.

You could still remember the way the corner of his mouth turned up when he told you that John had to sweeten the pot for you, and you still got a shiver down your spine when you thought about those two words he said to you.

No choice. Those two words were running through your head on an endless loop. He told you that you had no choice. You had no choice about trying to save John, and no choice about your destiny. He made sure to stress that, those yellow eyes of his alight with pleasure as he placed his hand on your forehead.

Those two words flipped a switch in you. The anger that you had been trying so hard to contain went from a dull simmer to a raging boil just like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest, one fist clenched by your side while the other hand thumped your pen frantically against the paper in front of you. You could swear that you could feel you body getting hot from the inside, the heat seeming to start in your middle before radiating throughout the rest of you. You were afraid that there was nothing you could do to contain it now. The only thing you could do was pray that no one crossed your path.

Sam could feel his eyes growing tired, the small screen he had been staring at starting to blur. He had been trying to crack John's voicemail code for hours, but so far he had come up empty. Sam flipped the phone closed and tossed it on the bed beside him before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He laid there for a moment and listened to the sounds of the house settling around him.

Those sounds brought back a flood of childhood memories and a strange sense of comfort. He felt a small smile slide across his face and thought that it was funny how the creaks of an old house could bring someone joy. He couldn't help but go down memory lane.

He always did feel safe there at Bobby's when he was a child. It wasn't that he didn't feel safe with John or Dean, but Bobby had an actual home. He had always been a bit jealous of you for that. Sure, you were no stranger to motel living, but you always had a home to come back to. You had your own room, and possessions that weren't hand me downs. You had some sense of normalcy, a routine, and he could remember how badly he craved that, part of him still did.

Sam thought back to the times the two of you spent there as children. He could remember playing made up games with you while Dean huffed and puffed about how annoying the two of you were. He could remember running up and down the stairs with you, the two of you always careful to avoid the step that creaked loudly when the two of you were sneaking around doing something that you shouldn't have been, and he could remember that the two of you always insisted on sharing a bed.

He chuckled to himself at some of the things the two of you used to talk about late at night. You had both made so many plans for when you were adults, vowing of course to do them together. That's what best friends did after all. They stuck together through everything. He could also remember the day all of those childhood plans changed.

The two of you were quite a bit older then, around sixteen, and it had been quite some time since the two of you had seen each other in person. John kept both Sam and Dean on the road with him, neither one of them needing Bobby to look after them anymore. Still, the two of you kept in close contact, calling each other whenever you could.

Sam was sitting in yet another dump of a motel room, a lore book open in front of him. John and Dean had left not long ago to start chasing down leads. Sam flipped through a couple of pages before closing the book. He drummed his fingers on the table while he stared at the book, knowing that he should be doing what his father asked of him. Instead, he pushed back his chair from the table and made his way to the beat up motel phone on the nightstand.

He picked up the receiver and held it between his ear and shoulder while he dialed your number. He made sure to only let the phone ring twice. It was the signal the two of you had always used. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing the phone from the nightstand and placing it in his lap as he anxiously waited for you to call back. He was tempted to try you again and found himself reaching quickly for the receiver when it finally started to ring.

"Sammy!" you shouted before he even had a chance to say hello.

"Y/N? Everything okay?" Sam asked, worried that something was wrong.

"Yeah, yeah, everything is fine. Better than fine really. You shoulda seen it, Sammy. It was so fuckin' awesome." you excitedly rambled, Sam chuckling on the other end.

"Yeah, what's that?" Sam asked, just hearing your voice bringing a smile to his face.

"So, Uncle Rufus shows up out of nowhere a few days ago, and he starts telling Dad about this case he's been working. Long story short, he ends up talking Dad into helping out, and they let me go." you said, Sam interrupting.

"How long did it take you to pull that off?" he asked, knowing just how overprotective Bobby was.

"Really, Sam?" you scoffed as you cocked your head to the side to hold the phone with your shoulder, your hands busy unpacking. "You know I've been working whenever I can."

"Yeah." Sam breathed out, his fingers fiddling with the phone cord. "So, what was the case?"

"Ghouls." you excitedly replied, sucking in a deep breath before quickly speaking again. "I wish you coulda seen it. I had this one head shot that was right out of a fuckin' Romero movie. It was awesome. You gotta tell your dumbass brother that I just took the lead away from him."

"His lead?" Sam asked, confused as to what the two of you were competing about now.

"Yeah, when you guys stopped by a few months ago we kinda got into an argument." you explained, Sam laughing under his breath.

"What a surprise." he sarcastically said, you and Dean couldn't seem to be in the same room for five minutes without arguing about something.

"Yeah, who woulda guessed, right? Anyway, we kinda got this...uh, little friendly competition going, and this hunt just put me in the lead. Just rub it in a little for me, would ya? Make sure you tell him that I'm just gonna keep kickin' his ass." you said, Sam not saying anything. "Sam? You still there?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll, uh...I'll be sure to tell him." Sam said, you immediately picking up the shift in his mood.

"Hey, you alright?" you asked, knowing that he had something on his mind.

"Fine." Sam replied, not convincing you at all.

"Sam." you said, pausing a moment, hoping that he would speak up.

"Really Y/N, I'm fine. I'm just tired." he lied as he looked down at his duffel bag. "I just needed a little break."

"John got you doing research?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

"Yeah." Sam answered as he pulled a notebook from the bottom of his duffel.

"What've ya got so far?" you asked, still thinking that there was something more on his mind. "Sam?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, not sure yet. Dad and Dean are lookin' at the body now." Sam said as he flipped open the notebook and looked at some of the college brochures he had tucked inside, the line silent for a few minutes as you waited for him to speak again. "Hey Y/N, you ever think about..." Sam started, going quiet again before finishing his sentence.

"Ever think about what?" you asked, wanting him to continue.

"It's nothing, nevermind." Sam breathed out.

"Sam." you said, wanting to know what was bothering him.

"You ever think about getting out? About....I don't know, having a normal life?" Sam finally asked, you pausing a moment as you tried to think of what to say.

"Define normal." you said, Sam sighing at your less than serious approach. "Fine. When I was younger I thought about it. Remember how we'd talk about all the shit we were gonna do? But, I...I don't know, Sam. It's just not realistic anymore, you know? I mean, do you really think either one of us could just be some normal fuckin' persin with everything we know? Besides, I don't really think I'm cut out for it. I mean, could you really see me living some normal, picket fence, nine to five life?"

"Maybe you're right. I just....I." Sam said, stopping short.

"Sam, it shouldn't matter what I say. Is that what you want? Do you want out?" you asked, Sam sighing on the other end.

"I...I don't know. Sometimes." he said, pausing a moment. "I don't think I can do this for the rest of my life, but-" he tried, you interrupting.

"But nothing. If you don't want to hunt, Sam, don't hunt." you said as if it was the most simple simple thing ever.

"Yeah, cause that's gonna go over great with Dad." Sam fired back, you letting out a slow breath.

"Look, Sam...nobody can tell you what to do with your life but you. I can't tell you, neither can Dean or JOHN. It's your life, and it's your fuckin' choice. I know that there isn't anything you can do about it right now, but if you still want out when the times comes then there is nothing anyone can do about that but you." you said, your tone a little harsher than you meant it.

"Yeah, I better get back to this. I'm sure they won't be gone much longer." Sam said, making you feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I just...I want you to be happy, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta think about yourself, and not worry about what everyone else is gonna think." you said, Sam quiet for a moment.

"I think I'm just frustrated. It was just...just a crazy idea. I didn't mean anything by it." Sam said, you knowing that there was no truth behind it.

"Yeah, okay. But, Sam, if it wasn't just a crazy idea...I hope you know that I would be there for you. No matter what you decide, I'll always be here. You can't get rid of me, Sammy." you said, wanting to end things on a better note.

"I don't think I could get rid of you if I tried." Sam teased, chuckling to himself.

"You're God damn right about that. Call me back if you need anything." you said, pausing a moment, trying to think of something to say to make him laugh. "I mean, we both know that I'm the superior researcher." you added, Sam barking out a laugh.

"Sure you didn't hit your head on that hunt?" he asked, a smile sliding onto your face. "I'll call you soon."

"You better." you said, not wanting to get off of the phone with him, but knowing that he had things to do. "Bye, Sammy."

"Bye, Y/N" Sam said, feeling the same way you did, quickly hanging up the phone before either of you could say anything else.

Sam looked down at the brochures in his lap and quickly placed them back in the notebook before shoving the notebook to the bottom of his bag, making sure that it was completely hidden under his clothes. Sam knew that there was no point in bringing them up to you. You had more or less made up your mind about what your life was going to be, but part of him still hoped that maybe one day you would change it.

Sam always knew that he didn't want to live that sort of life. He always yearned for something normal, something safe. He knew that his father would never leave the life. He was in far too deep, far too obsessed with his revenge mission. He had no illusions that his brother would ever leave either. Dean was following directly in John's footsteps.

You were his last hope. The two of you had always done everything together for as far back as he could remember, and the conversation that the two of you just had left a bad taste in his mouth. As bad as he wanted to start a new, normal life, he didn't want to do it alone. He wanted you with him, but deep down he knew that it just wasn't going to happen.

You were made for that life. It was in your blood, and he knew that you'd never leave it behind. Sam knew that he would be the one doing the leaving, and he knew that when the time came he would have to do it without looking back.

Sam swung his legs off the side of the bed, and grabbed John's phone before standing up. He tossed the phone into his bag before walking to the door and stepping out into the hall. He looked at your closed bedroom door and thought about just walking by, but with everything that had been going on he honestly didn't want to be alone.

He stopped in front of your door and raised his fist to knock, trying to be as quiet as he could, "Y/N." he softly said, waiting for you to respond.

After a few moments Sam cracked open your bedroom door and peaked inside, "Y/N, it's me." he said before noticing that you weren't there.

He eased the door shut before heading for the stairs. He tried to be as quiet as he could, taking extra precaution to avoid the squeaky step. He could hear the TV and hoped that you and Dean were still up.

"Guys?" he called out before he made it into the living room.

Once again Sam got no response, and simply decided that the two of you must have fallen asleep with the TV on. That changed when he saw you sitting on the end of the couch. He noticed that you were staring blankly ahead, one of your legs bouncing up and down as if you were anxious.

"Y/N?" Sam called out, coming to a stop by the arm of the couch. "Y/N?" he tried again when he didn't get an answer.

Sam watched as you slowly turned your head and looked in his direction. He couldn't quite read the expression on your face, but he found himself growing a little uneasy. You looked so on edge, and he quickly took a step back.

"Hey..." he started, pausing a moment, watching you closely. "Have you...uh, have you seen Dean?"

"I'm not your brother's fuckin' keeper." you spat, Sam instantly shrinking back.

"I'm...I didn't mean-" Sam started, you quickly cutting him off.

"Fuck." you breathed out, running your hands through your hair. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to...You didn't deserve that. I just...I'm..." you said, trailing off.

"No, I get it. Everything is a little tense. It's okay." Sam said, his forgiving attitude making you more angry.

"God dam it. No, it's not. Nothing about any of this is okay, Sam. I don't just get free reign to be an asshole!" you snapped, closing your journal and tossing it aside. "You should just-" you tried to say, Sam interrupting.

"Since when is being an asshole out of the ordinary for you?" Sam asked, trying to lighten the mood, rendering you speechless for a moment.

"Can't you just get pissed off and yell at me like a fuckin' normal person?" you asked, Sam sighing as he shook his head.

"What would that solve?" he asked as he took a seat next to you.

"I don't know. Hell, it might make you feel better. You know, giving me a taste of my own medicine." you said, trying your best to calm down.

"Does that really work for you? Do you ever really feel better?" Sam asked, you shrugging your shoulders.

"Sometimes." you said, leaning your head back against the couch.

"Look, you were obviously in the middle of something, and I interrupted." Sam said, you scoffing.

"Don't make excuses for me, Sam. Call it like it really is. I'm a fucking asshole." you said, looking over to him.

"Like it is, huh?" Sam asked, you nodding. "Alright, I think that you are doing everything in your power to avoid dealing with things. Dean, too. You are both so in your heads, and neither one of you will do what needs to be done."

"Yeah, what's that? What need to be done?" you asked, a little defensively.

"We need to TALK about things! We need to sit down and try to put all of the pieces together." Sam said, you rolling your eyes as you let out an annoyed huff.

"Don't go all after school special on me, Sam. Some big group therapy session isn't going to change a God damn thing." you shot back, Sam beginning to get frustrated.

"Yeah, cause sitting here doing what we've been doing is really helping." Sam argued, both of you staring each other down.

"What do you want to hear, Sam? What the fuck do you want me to say?" you asked, trying to keep your temper under control.

"ANYTHING, Y/N! Anything would be better than what you're doing now." Sam shot back.

"Fine." you said, keeping eye contact with him. "I don't know what to fucking do, Sam. I can't even fathom where to start. Nothing I do or say is gonna change what happened. I can't fix any of this. I can't help you. I sure as fuck can't help Dean. I can't even help my fuckin' self. I don't know what happened to me, Sam. I can't remember, but I know that this is my fault. I know that I am the one to blame for all of this."

"What does that mean? What's your fault?" Sam asked, his expression softening.

"Everything, Sam." you said, your voice breaking. "If I wasn't here...John would be."

"You don't know that." Sam said, the sound of a door opening and closing stopping him from saying more.

The two of you listened as Dean made his way to the stairs. He didn't acknowledge you or Sam, his heavy steps on the stairs intermingling with the low mumble of the television. You and Sam sat there in silence as the sounds of Dean's footsteps started to fade.

"Y/N, we need to talk about this, and Dean does too." Sam finally said as you stood up from the couch.

"One existential crisis at a time, Sam. We'll talk tomorrow." you said, completely drained.

Sam studied you for a moment before slowly nodding his head, "Yeah." he sighed, knowing that you would make up an excuse to avoid it.

"Get some sleep, Sam." you said before leaving the room and heading towards the kitchen.

You were seated at the kitchen table, one finger lazily circling the condensation ring left behind by your now empty beer. You made it a point to only drink one, knowing that Dean would want the rest of the six pack. Sam had gone to bed about thirty minutes ago, and you finally forced yourself to stand up from your spot.

You made your way back to the couch and plopped down on the middle cushion, grabbing one of the worn throw pillows and tucking it under your head as you pulled your legs up and laid down. You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned the volume down a little on the television, keeping it barely audible. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the infomercial dialogue, trying your best to clear your mind of everything. You finally managed to fall asleep only to be pulled awake a couple of hours later by the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen.

You quickly sat up and found yourself searching for a weapon in your half asleep state. A mumbled string of curse words set your mind at ease and you stopped your search, recognizing the voice and realizing that you were in no danger. You slowly stood up and made your way towards the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe once you got there.

"Top shelf...towards the right." you said, Dean's back to you as he searched the cabinets.

You knew what he was searching for, the empty beer bottles on the table letting you know that he was after something a little stronger. You watched as he found the bottle and turned so that he was leaning against the counter, facing you. He unscrewed the cap and tossed it to the side, sending it sliding down the counter before raising the bottle to his lips.

You couldn't help but think back to the night that he showed up to tell you about Sam. The positions the two of you were in mirrored the ones from that night, but so many things had changed since then. The two of you almost looked like completely different people, both of you seeing more things in that short amount of time than most people would see in an entire lifetime.

"At least I don't have a gun this time." you said, echoing back to that night, hoping that Dean would know what you were talking about.

"Or a douche bag hiding out in your room." Dean shot back, referring to Jake, the corner of your mouth turning up.

"Nah, he's just hiding out in the kitchen this time." you said, Dean huffing out a laugh.

The two of you slipped into silence, neither one of you sure of what to say next. You could feel his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to look up and meet them. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, his eyes darting to the bottle in his hand.

"You, uh, you should try to get some rest." you finally said before turning to head back to the couch, Dean watching you go without saying anything.

You had tucked yourself into the corner of the couch, your legs drawn up underneath you, your elbow on the armrest of the couch, your head cradled in your hand. You could still hear Dean in the kitchen. It almost sounded like he was pacing back and forth, his footsteps growing louder before fading away, the process continuing over and over. You thought about calling out to him, the sudden stopping of his footsteps causing you to stop and listen. Suddenly, his footsteps started back up, and you could tell that he was headed in your direction.

"Want some company?" Dean asked as he walked into the room, raising the bottle in his hand and giving it a little shake.

"I never say no to a drink." you replied as you looked up at him, Dean looking somewhat relieved as he made his way to the couch.

"You and Sam figure anything out?" Dean asked, nodding his heads towards your journal on the coffee table before passing you the bottle.

"No." you said, taking the bottle from him and raising it to your lips, Dean leaning his head back against the couch.

"He grill you too?" he asked, not looking at you.

"I deserved worse than I got." you said before taking one more drink, Dean holding out his hand for the bottle. "I fuckin' snapped, and I just wanted him to get mad. I wanted him to fuckin' yell at me, but all he wanted to do was-"

"Talk." Dean finished for you, you giving him a small nod. "Yeah, I got that speech too. He...he just..."

"That's just Sam." you said, reaching for the bottle. "I gotta say...this way is a little easier." you added, Dean giving you a half smile.

"Drown it out, right?" he sighed, turning to look at you.

"Drown it out." you echoed, the two of you sharing a look before slipping into silence, passing the bottle back and forth.

"Do you...do you remember anything?" Dean finally asked, you looking away from him.

"Not really. I mean, not anything fuckin' useful. I, uh, I...I remember looking for you, and I remember being fuckin' pissed." you said, not able to tell him about the conversation you had with Yellow Eyes.

"Yeah, I remember lookin' for you too, and the, uh, light." Dean said, pausing a moment. "Where'd you go?"

"I...I don't know." you breathed out, Dean nodding slowly. "I keep tryin' to make fuckin' sense of it, but-"

"You can't." Dean finished for you. "I can't either." he added, a distant, defeated look in his eyes.

"Hey." you said, placing a gloved hand just above his knee. "We'll figure it out. Everything...everything is gonna be okay."

"Yeah." Dean said, giving you a sad smile, not believing a word you said, and you couldn't blame him. "Guess we should call it a night."

"Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll take the couch tonight. You take my bed." you said, Bobby making it abundantly clear that there would be no bed sharing.

"No, you take it." Dean said as he propped his feet up on the coffee table, you rolling your eyes. "Couch is fine with me. You drink enough, you can sleep anywhere."

"No point in arguing, De. You're not gonna win." you said, Dean looking at you as he slouched down onto the couch, his head lying back against the back.

"I'm not movin'." he said, closing his eyes. "But, you know, it's technically not a bed, so..." he added, trailing off as he raised his arm, silently inviting you over.

"Well, since you're gettin' all fuckin' technical on me." you said, scooting over until you were nestled into his side, his arm coming down to wrap around you.

You closed your eyes as you snuggled into his side, the corner of your mouth turning up when you felt him press his lips against the top of your head. You didn't say anything when he lingered, his chest rising as he breathed you in.

"Get some sleep, De." you said, patting his chest, Dean's other hand coming up to rest on yours. "I'll be right here."

You jerked awake, your heart beating wildly in your chest, your breaths short and quick as your eyes darted around the room. You felt Dean shift underneath you, and you tried to match your breathing to his, your hand rising and falling with his chest in a smooth, easy rhythm. You knew that it was just a nightmare, but you also knew that there was no way you would be able to fall back asleep.

You eased yourself out from under Dean's arm, being careful not to wake him, and moved to the edge of the cushion before quickly getting to your feet. You looked over your shoulder at Dean, and stood still for a moment, making sure that he wouldn't wake up. Once you were certain that he wouldn't wake up you grabbed the whiskey bottle from the coffee table and crept from the room.

You had finally made it outside, and allowed yourself to let out of sigh of relief. You had no idea what time it was, but you knew it was early morning. The sky was starting to lighten, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with brilliant shades of orange, pink, and red. You couldn't remember the last time you had watched the sunrise. In fact, you weren't entirely sure that you had ever taken the time to actually appreciate it. Honestly, it had never been on your list of priorities and as pretty as it was, you couldn't say that it topped your list now.

There were far too many other things on your mind, and you thought that if you just kept walking you could leave them all behind. So, that's what you did. You walked. You walked up and down the haphazard rows of broken down vehicles, your fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of the whiskey bottle that dangled at your side. But, no matter how many trips you took up and down the rows the thoughts that you were so desperate to outrun always seemed to be just one step behind. They were still there, taunting you, letting you know that no amount of running would suffice.

You stopped in your tracks and looked over at the beaten up, old Lincoln on your left. You curled your fingers tighter around the neck of the whiskey bottle and climbed up onto the hood, leaving your legs dangling freely over the edge. If running wasn't going to work, you had the next best thing. After all, drowning everything out would be much easier. There was far less work in that solution. Just as you raised the bottle to your lips you heard the crunch of footsteps and turned to see Bobby walking towards you.

"Glad you finally stopped. I didn't know how much longer I could keep up." Bobby said, stopping a couple of feet in front of the car.

"You've been following me the whole time?" you asked, a little shocked that you didn't pick up on his presence, Bobby giving you a subtle nod.

"Maybe if you laid off the sauce you woulda known." he said, gesturing towards the bottle.

"Yeah...maybe, but where's the fun in that?" you asked before taking a drink.

"Doesn't look like fun to me, Kid." Bobby said, coming to lean against the hood next to you.

"Yeah, what's it look like then?" you asked, a little defensively, Bobby pausing a moment before turning to look at you.

"It looks like you're runnin', or tryin' to at least." Bobby said, causing you to scoff. "I know you're going through it right now, Kid."

"You read minds now, too?" you asked, anger starting to boil up again.

"No." Bobby said, trying to choose his next words carefully. "But, there ain't many things you can hide from me."

"Yeah, you're good enough at that for the both of us." you snapped back, Bobby's posture going ridgid, "What? Nothin' to say now?"

"I did what I had to do to keep you safe." Bobby said, his response exasperating you.

"From what?!" you yelled, Bobby looking over at you.

"From everything." he returned. "That was my job, and I did what I had to do."

"That doesn't fuckin' tell me anything." you snapped, your grip on the bottle tightening.

"I know." Bobby said, looking down at his feet. "But, that's why I'm out here, Kid. You ask, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Just like that?" you asked, Bobby looking back at you.

"Just like that." he echoed, trying to prepare himself for your questions, watching as you looked away from him, the bottle still clutched tightly in your hand.

"Who...who were they?" you quietly asked. "My parents."

"Your father was a hunter, a good one. James McKenzie. I worked a few cases with him in the early days. I met him though Rufus." Bobby explained, you still looking away from him.

"And her?" you asked, Bobby taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. You gotta understand, Kid...I didn't keep in regular contact with him. He never mentioned anyone, not even the night he showed up with you. I tried to track down what I could. Rufus did too, but we never got anything solid. It was all just through the grapevine bullshit. Some said that she was in the life too, and...and-" Bobby tried, you cutting him off.

"And, it ended like it fuckin' always does. Bloody." you said, Bobby remaining quiet for a moment.

"I can't say for sure." Bobby sighed. "I looked for him too, but I couldn't find anything. It was like he just...disappeared. I kept up the search until..."

"Until?" you asked, finally looking over at him.

"Until it got too dangerous to continue it. You were about four, maybe five." Bobby started, seeming reluctant to continue. "You...you just...you knew things, Kid, and it was stuff you had no way of knowin'. "he said, waiting for you to respond.

"What the fuck does that mean?" you asked, your heart starting to pound.

"It means that...it means..." Bobby started, trailing off before he could finish his thought.

"It means what? What the fuck does it mean?!" you yelled, throwing the bottle, watching as it shattered against a car across from you.

"You would pick up on things, say things that you couldn't know. Things...things that I was thinking, and then there were the dreams." Bobby said, you getting up from the car to pace.

"Dreams?" you asked, pacing back and forth.

"Doctors said they were just night terrors, but they weren't.""Bobby said, his answer rather vague.

"How did you know?" you asked, still pacing.

"I just did." he said, you whipping to face him.

"So, not only did you lie about who I was, but you lied about what I could do, too?" you asked, speaking again before Bobby had a chance to answer. "And, you can't say that you never had the chance to tell me. I called you. I called you, and I told you that I thought something was wrong with me. And, what did you do? You fuckin' lied! You told me that I was fine!"

"You know that people don't always take kindly to what they don't understand. Especially in this business. They would have shot first and asked questions later." Bobby said, you starting to pace again.

"So, you're telling me that you kept everything quiet 'cause you didn't want some hunter findin' out? Scared they were gonna shoot the freak?!" you yelled, Bobby shaking his head.

"Kid, you're not a-" he started, you quickly cutting him off.

"What? Not a freak? Not some sort of fuckin' monster?!" you asked, pulling the glove off of your right hand, the ball of light quickly forming before you sent it crashing into the car across from you, the glass shattering and the metal denting. "Does that look fuckin' human to you?"

"A parent does what they have to do to protect their child." Bobby said, you shaking your head.

"I'm not your kid! Don't you see that everyone would have been a lot better off if you would've just thrown me to the fuckin' wolves all those years ago? I mean, I've been fucking shit up since I was born." you said, a quizzical expression on Bobby's face.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, frustration seeping through.

"It's my fault that my parents are gone. And, who's to say that there's not a trail after them? I mean, you said so yourself. You did what you had to do to keep me safe, to keep everything under wraps." you said, Bobby looking at you a moment before speaking.

"None of that's on you." he said, you huffing out an annoyed laugh.

"It is. I may not have known, but it is. And, then there's John." you said, fixing Bobby with a cold stare.

"John?" Bobby asked, you nodding.

"I don't remember everything that happened, but I remember that. He's gone because of me. If he wouldn't have made the deal for me, then he'd still be here. So, how can you stand there and tell me that everyone is better off with me here?" you asked, your voice cracking a little.

"You can't blame yourself for John's decision. He knew what he was doing, and you don't get to make decisions for everyone else." Bobby said, you interrupting.

"I'm not-" you tried to say, Bobby cutting you off.

"No, you're gonna listen. You say that everyone would be better off if you were gone, but that's bullshit. You think those boys would be better off?" Bobby started, you quickly cutting him off.

"Of course I do! They lost their fucking father because of me!!" you yelled, Bobby shaking his head.

"Family doesn't end with blood, Kid. Those boys would be lost without you, and so would I. I...I've done a lot of things that I'm not proud of, things that haunt me to this day, but you are the one thing that I'm proud of. Hell, you're the reason I'm still going, Kid, and I wouldn't change a thing. I'd do all of it over again, the same exact way if it meant that you were safe."

"But-" you tried to say, Bobby speaking up before you could say anything.

"You listen to me. I may not have made ya, but you're mine. I'm not going anywhere. A parent is there for the good, the bad, and the ugly. And, right now it's pretty God damn ugly, but we're gonna figure all this out, together. Now, you can be mad all you want. I can understand that, but you don't get to check out on me. And, you ain't gettin' rid of me. Cause even if you don't want me to, I'm gonna be there. Ya' got that, Kid?" Bobby asked, you looking at him with teary eyes, waiting a minute before speaking.

"Yeah, I, uh, I got it." you said, trying not to cry, Bobby closing the gap between the two of you to pull you into a hug.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Kid." he said, holding you tightly. "I promise."

Dean was back underneath the Impala, only his legs visible from beneath the frame. He spent all of his time working on it, and although it was little more than a rusted frame, it looked considerably less crushed than it did.

"How's the car coming along?" Sam asked as he approached.

"Slow." Dean said, his reply short.

"Yeah? Need any help?" Sam asked, Dean dropping something heavily.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass. I'd rather have Singer under here." Dean said, Sam pausing a moment before speaking.

"Need anything else, then?" Sam asked, Dean pushing himself out from under the car and getting to his feet.

"Stop it, Sam." Dean warned, Sam looking a little taken aback.

"Stop what?" Sam asked, Dean shaking his head.

"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise." Dean said, Sam slowly nodding, trying to think of a way to make his point without starting a fight.

"All right, Dean, it's just...We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Sam said, Dean turning to face him.

"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance. I swear, you're a bigger girl than Singer. She's not out here pushin' me." Dean said, Sam's frustration starting to show.

"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened." Sam said, Dean shaking his head.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked.

"Say something, all right. Hell, say anything. Neither one of you have ever had a problem running your mouths before, but now I can't get either one of you to say more than a couple of words. Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car." Sam ranted, his frustration seeping through.

"Revenge, huh?" Dean asked, Sam nodding.

"Yeah." Sam replied, hoping that he'd gotten through to him.

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But, you know, if we do finally find it- oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But, I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So, you know the only thing I can do? I can work on the car." Dean said, crouching down by the car to get back to work.

"Well, we've got something, all right?" Sam said, pulling out a cell phone. "It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me awhile, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this." Sam said as he held out the phone to Dean, who stood and took it reluctantly.

"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me." the voicemail said, Sam looking to Dean.

"That message is four months old." Sam said, Dean's interests piqued.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam replied.

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?" Dean asked, Sam shaking his head.

"No. But, I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address." Sam said, Dean nodding.

"Go tell Singer, and ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." Dean instructed, Sam quickly turning to go before Dean could change his mind.

"This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin' soccer mom!" Dean exclaimed as the three of you got out of the beat up, poorly maintained minivan that was parked in front of the bar Ellen owned, The Roadhouse.

"It's the only car Bobby had running." Sam said as he looked around the rather empty parking lot. "Hello? Anybody here?"

"So, you know these people?" Dean asked, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, haven't seen 'em in a long time though." you said, adjusting your gun, Dean turning to Sam.

"Hey. You bring the, uh..." he started to ask, Sam nodding.

"Of course." he said, tossing something to Dean before opening the door to go inside.

The Roadhouse was quiet with the exception of a fly buzzing around, "Come on." you said, walking ahead of the two of them, a light bulb suddenly blowing, leaving the bar a little darker than it was.

The three of you came upon a passed out man, and Sam looked down at him, "Hey, buddy?" he asked, pausing a moment. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

"Yeah." Dean said as Sam went into a back room to look around, leaving you and Dean alone, the two of you walking further into the bar.

"Stop." you said, hearing someone behind you, putting your hand out in front of Dean, the two of you side by side.

"Oh God, please let that be a rifle." Dean said, feeling the point of a gun touch his back.

"Maybe they're just real happy to see us." you said, the gun cocking.

"Don't move." a female warned, you thinking that you recognized the voice, glancing over to Dean and giving him a subtle nod.

"Not moving, copy that. You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do..." Dean said, turning fluidly, grabbing the rifle and cocking it. "That."

You turned just in time to see Dean get punched in the nose, the rifle quickly taken away from him as his hands flew to his nose.

"Easy, Jo." you said, pulling your gun as she pointed the rifle at you.

"I know you?" she asked, the two of you in a standoff.

"Sam! Need some help in here." Dean called out before muttering, "I can't see. Singer, I can't even see."

"I got it handled." you said, Jo taking a step towards you, the rifle now within your reach.

"You sure about that?" Dean asked, still clutching his nose as the back door opened to reveal Sam walking though slowly with both hands on his head, Jo turning her head to look, her finger no longer on the trigger.

"Yeah." you said, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and snatching it from her, Jo looking at you in shock as you passed the gun to Dean.

"Sorry, guys. I can't right now. I'm a...little tied up." Sam said, nodding his head, indicating that there was someone behind him.

"Don't worry, Sammy. We've got it handled." you said before looking over to Dean. "Well, maybe not we. Dean wasn't really much help."

"Sam? Dean? Winchester?" a woman asked, stepping out from behind Sam.

"Yeah." Sam and Dean answered in unison, looking a little puzzled.

"Son of a bitch." she said, looking over to you, your gun still partially raised.

"Mom, you know these people?" Jo asked, looking to her mother.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." she said lowering her gun, laughing. "And, I'm willing to bet that you're Y/N Singer." she said, looking to you.

"That's right." you said, lowering your gun.

"It's been awhile. You've grown up. How's your daddy?" she asked, Sam and Dean watching her closely.

"Still kicking." you said, Sam and Dean looking between you and the woman, the woman turning her attention back to them.

"I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo." she said, Sam and Dean finally relaxing.

"Hey." Jo said, nodding towards her rifle in Dean's hand.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asked, passing her the gun.

"No, she's not." you said, giving Jo a look before heading towards the bar.

"Here you go." Ellen said, passing Dean a small towel filled with ice.

"Thanks. You called our Dad, said you could help. Help with what?" Dean asked, grimacing as he held the towel to his nose.

"Well, the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it." Ellen explained, Dean eyeing her.

"What, was there an article in Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed? I mean, who...who are you? How do you know about all this?" Dean asked, Ellen looking to you.

"You'll have to excuse him." you said, Dean's head whipping to face you, Ellen chuckling.

"Hey, I just run a saloon, but hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once." Ellen explained.

"Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?" Dean asked, still weary of her.

"You'd have to ask him that." Ellen said, you looking down at the bar.

"So, why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked, getting back on track.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But, John wouldn't have sent you if..." she said, stopping when you gave her a look, the realization hitting her. "He didn't send you." she said, Dean looking down before glancing over to you and back to Sam. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess." Sam said, Ellen shaking her head.

"I'm so sorry." she said, giving both boys a sincere look.

"It's okay. We're all right." Dean quickly said, any mention of John making him uncomfortable.

"Really? I know how close you and your dad were." Ellen said, Dean appearing annoyed.

"Ellen." you said, shaking your head, letting her know to drop it.

"Really, lady, I'm fine." he said, Ellen nodding, realizing that it was a sensitive subject.

"So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam said, Ellen looking between the three of you.

"Well, we can't. But, Ash will." Ellen said, a smile sliding onto your face.

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked, confused.

"Ash!" Ellen yelled, the man that was passed out jerking away, flailing as he sat up.

"What? It closin' time?" he asked, looking around the bar.

"That's Ash?" Sam asked as you laughed to yourself.

"MM-hmm. He's a genius." Jo said, both Sam and Dean looking over to her.

You and Sam were sitting on either side of Ash, Dean standing behind the three of you while Jo poured glasses of water on the other side of the bar. Ash was busy staring at you. You could tell that he was trying to figure out how he knew you, a brown folder being slapped down on the bar making him flinch, but not deterring his focus.

"I don't think we've met." Ash said, extending his hand to you.

"I gotta say...I'm a little offended." you teased, the wheels turning in Ash's mind.

"Don't be offended. There's no way I could forget a face like that, or a..." Ash said, trailing off as his eyes roamed down your body, Dean clearing his throat.

"You sure about that, Sugar?" you asked, Ash's eyes lighting up.

"Y/N? Y/N Singer?" he asked, you giving him a wink.

"In the flesh." you said, Ash smiling brightly.

"Well, God damn! I knew you were somethin' by the sound of your voice, but it just doesn't do you justice." Ash said, Dean rolling his eyes.

"You've gotta be kidding me. This guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Dean said, Ash turning to face him.

"I like you." Ash said, a smile on his face.

"Thanks." Dean said, Jo shaking her head.

"Just give him a chance." Jo said, you nodding.

"He knows his stuff. He's helped me out a few times." you said, Dean looking at you. "Over the phone." you added, Dean coming to sit next to you, moving his stool so that he was basically on top of you before opening the folder.

"All right. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it." Dean said, Ash pulling out the papers and rifling through them, shaking his head.

"Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this." Ash said, looking up at Dean.

"Our Dad could." Sam said, Ash glancing at him before looking back at the papers.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean...damn! They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms...You ever been struck by lightening? It ain't fun." Ash said, rambling.

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asked, Ash cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah, with this...I think so. But, It's gonna take time, uh, give me...fifty one hours." Ash said, getting up to leave.

"Hey, man?" Dean called out, stopping him.

"Yeah." Ash said, turning to face him.

"I, uh, I did the haircut." Dean said, Ash smiling.

"All business up front, party in the back." Ash said, running his hand over his mullet. "Hey Y/N, could you help me with somethin'?"

"Yeah." you said, getting up from your spot, you and Ash walking off as Jo came out from behind the bar.

Dean watched the two of you closely, his brow furrowing as he watched you laugh at something Ash said. Jo made sure to step into his line of sight, giving him a flirty smile as she gestured for him to follow her. Dean took one last look at you before following after her, leaving Sam alone at the bar.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked, spotting something behind the bar.

"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we-" Ellen said, Sam cutting her off.

"No, no, no, no, the, um, the folder." Sam said, nodding towards the folder.

"Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look, if you want." Ellen said, taking the folder from its spot and placing it in front of Sam.

"How did your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" Dean asked, him and Jo sitting by the window.

"From my dad. He was a hunter. He passed away." Jo said, Dean letting out a slow breath.

"I'm sorry." he said, Jo waving it off.

"It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad." Jo said, Dean slowly nodding, uncomfortable with the subject.

"Yeah." he said, looking over at you and Ash, Jo following his stare.

"So, I guess you've got fifty one hours to waste. Maybe tonight we should..."she said, trailing off, Dean looking over at her. "What?"

"Nothing, just, uh..."Dean said, looking over at you, Jo nodding.

"Gotcha." she said, watching as he stared at you. "You know, at first I thought you might toss me some cheap pickup line." she said, Dean chuckling. "Most hunters come through that door thinking they can get in my pants with some...pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV." she added, Dean smiling to himself when he remembered you throwing out that exact scenario as a date idea.

"Well...what a bunch of scumbags." Dean said, turning to look at her.

"Not you?" Jo asked, glancing over at you before looking back to Dean.

"Not me." Dean said, giving her a tight lipped smile.

"So, whatcha need?" you asked, Ash stopping to turn and face you.

"Uh, well, I..."Ash said, clearing his throat. "How long are you sticking around?"

"You said you needed fifty one hours, so I'd guess that'd be about it." you said, Ash nodding.

"That's it, huh? Well, that's a damn shame." he said, you raising a brow at him.

"Yeah, why's that?" you asked, Ash wiggling his brows at you causing you to laugh.

"Cause we coulda had a damn good time." Ash said, you smiling before glancing back at Dean, who was talking to Jo. "Don't tell me..." Ash said, looking at Dean.

"Yep." you said, Ash sighing.

"Just my luck." he said, you laughing under your breath. "You know he doesn't look so tough. Maybe I could take him." he joked, you laughing again. "Well, uh, that ever goes south, you know who to call."

"You'll be the first one I call." you said, both you and Ash laughing.

"Hey guys, come here." Sam called out. "Check this out." he added, both you and Dean walking back to the bar.

"Yeah." you said, Sam looking up at you.

"A few murders not far from here that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt." Sam said, looking between the two of you.

"Yeah, so?" Dean said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So, I told her we'd check it out." Sam said as he gathered all of the papers back into the folder and stood up.

The three of you were back in the minivan, Dean driving, Sam in the passenger seat, you leaning up from the backseat. The rain was coming down hard, forcing the three of you to speak louder than normal.

"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?" Dean asked, Sam still looking at the research in his lap.

"Well, you just gotta be shittin' bricks right about now." you said, Sam shooting you a dirty look.

"He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually." Sam explained.

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asked, Sam nodding.

"Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnival." Sam said, flipping through some of the papers.

"Okay, but how do you know that we're not just dealing with some fuckin' psycho carnie in a clown suit?" you asked, Sam turning in his seat to face you.

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course." Sam explained, Dean looking over at him.

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?" Dean said, not hearing your earlier remark.

"Oh, give me a break." Sam said, rolling his eyes, both you and Dean laughing.

"You didn't think we'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television." Dean teased, Sam scoffing.

"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying." Sam said, Dean's eyes going wide.

"Planes crash!" he fired back, Sam turning to you.

"Or small spaces." Sam said, you rolling your eyes.

"Oh, you can fuck right off, Sam. MIne is a much more realistic fear, and you know it. I mean, what the fuck is so scary about a clown?" you asked, Sam shaking his head.

"Well, apparently clowns kill, Y/N." Sam said, Dean speaking up before the two of you got into a ridiculous argument.

"So, these type of murders, they ever happen before?" Dean asked, Sam looking down at the file.

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O.. It happened three times, three different locales." Sam explained, Dean shaking his head.

"It's weird, though. I mean, if it's a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale. You know, a house, or a town." Dean said, Sam looking to him.

"So, how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked.

"Cursed object, maybe." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them." Dean said, Sam sighing.

"Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt." Sam said, closing the file in his lap.

"Tell me about it." you said, leaning back in your seat.

"Well, this case was your idea." Dean said, glancing over to Sam. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"So?" Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

"It's just...not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell bent for leather on the demon hunt." Dean said, you leaning back up, expecting a fight.

"I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do." Sam said, you looking between the two of them, gauging the situation.

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean asked, you looking over to him.

"De." you warned, giving him a look.

"Yeah, so?" Sam asked, Dean glancing at you before turning his attention back to the road.

"Nothin'." Dean clipped out, you leaning into your seat with a sigh.

The minivan squeaked to a stop outside of the carnival, and the three of you climbed out. You leaned against the side of the van, watching as what appeared to be detectives talked to some of the carnies.

"Check it out, Five-oh." Dean said, nodding his head in their direction.

"You got it?" you asked, Dean nodding before walking off towards the carnies, trying to get what facts he could.

Both you and Sam ventured closer to the carnival grounds, Sam shoving his hands in his pockets as the two of you subtly looked around. You turned your head just in time to see a woman, who was about three feet tall, in a clown outfit approaching. You looked up at Sam and tried to hide your smile. He was staring at her nervously as she walked by, his posture rigid as he tried to keep his cool.

"Did you get her number?" Dean asked as he approached the two of you, Sam scowling at the question.

"More murders?" Sam asked, Dean nodding.

"Two more last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds, and they had a little boy with them." Dean explained, both you and Sam listening closely.

"Who fingered a clown." Sam said, you snorting out a laugh, Dean pausing and giving him a weird look.

"Sounds pretty kinky if you ask me." you said, not able to keep a straight face, Sam giving you a completely done look, Dean chuckling.

"Really, Y/N?" Sam asked, you shrugging your shoulders.

"What? You said it." you said, Dean shaking his head, trying not to smile.

"Alright, back on track." Dean said, Sam looking at him to continue. "Yeah, the kid saw a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air."

"Guys, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything." Sam said, you sighing.

"And we don't even fuckin' know if that's what we're dealing with for sure." you said, Sam nodding in agreement.

"Well, if it's a cursed object then, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything." Dean said, Sam giving him a look.

"Oh, good, that's nice and...inconspicuous." Sam sarcastically said, you looking over to him.

"You got a better idea?" you asked, Dean spotting something nearby.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in." Dean said, nodding his head towards a "Help Wanted" sign.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?" Dean asked, the three of you stepping into the tent of a man throwing knives at a target, all the knives landing near but not quite on the bullseye.

"What is that, some kind of joke?" the man asked, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal that he was blind.

"Oh, God, I'm, I'm sorry." Dean said, embarrassed by his blunder.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?" the man asked, Dean looking to you and Sam for help.

"Wanna give me a little help here?" Dean quietly asked the two of you.

"Not really." Sam said, you quickly jumping in.

"You're doin' great." you said, giving him the okay signal with your hand.

"Hey man, is there a problem?" someone asked, Dean turning, then looking down to see an extremely short man in a red cape.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people." the blind man said, Dean shaking his head.

"No, I don't. I-" Dean tried to explain, the short man cutting him off.

"Hey buddy, what's your problem?" he asked, looking up at Dean.

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding." Dean said, you grabbing onto his arm, catching his mistake.

"Little?! You son of a bitch!" the short man yelled, Dean's eyes going wide.

"No, no, no, no! I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?" Dean asked, both you and Sam laughing. "Please?"

"You kids picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat." Mr. Cooper said as the three of you walked into his office. "Sorry about the lack of chairs."

"No problem." you said, giving him a friendly smile, Dean looking at the available chairs.

One of the chairs was normal, the other was pink with a giant clown face on it. Dean quickly beat Sam to the normal chair, and pulled you so that you basically fell into his lap. Sam scowled, and fidgeted before sitting gingerly in the clown chair, giving you and Dean one final dirty look before composing himself.

"We've got all kinds of local trouble." Mr. Cooper said once the three of you had settled.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, you shifting so that he could see Mr. Cooper.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?" Mr. Cooper asked, looking between the three of you.

"Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas." Sam said, both you and Dean nodding.

"Yeah." the two of you said in unison.

"Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS Men?" Mr. Cooper asked before turning to you. "Surely they had a looker like you doin' something special."

"Oh yeah, I....they always saved me for the good stuff." you said, Sam quickly jumping in.

"Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess." Sam said, Mr. Cooper studying the three of you closely.

"You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?" Cooper asked, you letting out a slow breath.

"Nope. But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady." Dean joked, Sam shooting him a look.

"You see that picture? That's my daddy." Mr. Cooper said, pointing out an old black and white photo.

"You look just like him." Sam said, you looking at the photo a little longer before turning to Mr. Cooper.

"You really do." you said, thinking that they looked like the same person.

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been, for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But, you three? You should go to school. Find a partner, have 2.5 kids. Live regular." Mr. Cooper said, Dean opening his mouth to speak, Sam leaning forward, his eyes serious.

"Sir, we don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this." Sam said, both you and Dean looking at him a little shocked.

"Huh." Dean said, once the three of you had walked out of Mr. Cooper's office.

"What?" Sam asked, Dean pausing a moment before speaking.

"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?" Dean asked, both you and him watching Sam closely.

"Sam?" you asked, when he didn't answer.

"I don't know." Sam said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State. You know, leave all the work to me and Singer." Dean said, you elbowing him.

"I'm having second thoughts." Sam said, shocking you a little.

"Really?" you asked, Sam nodding.

"Yeah. I think...Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job." Sam said, Dean giving him a look.

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam." Dean said, you whipping to face him.

"Dean!" you barked, Dean looking down at you.

"What? You know it's true." Dean said, you shaking your head.

"Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?" Sam asked, looking at Dean, Dean finally turning to face him.

"Naw, I don't have a problem at all." Dean said, shaking his head as he walked off.

Sam, clad in a red "Cooper Carnival" jacket was picking up trash while surreptitiously scanning with the EMF meter. He walked up to the fun house and looked around before walking inside, still scanning. Suddenly, a skeleton fell from the ceiling, and Sam scanned it. The EMF meter didn't react, but Sam did get an idea.

Dean was wearing a similar red uniform jacket and picking up trash to put in the dumpster when his cell phone rang.

"Hello." Dean said.

"Hey, man." Sam said, Dean still looking around for trash.

"What's the matter? You sound like you just saw a clown." Dean teased, Sam huffing out a breath.

"Very funny. Skeleton, actually." Sam said.

"Like a real human skeleton?" Dean asked, thinking that it could be what the three of you were searching for.

"In the fun house. Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object? What if it's attached to its own remains?" Sam asked, on the same page as Dean.

"Did the bones give off EMF?" Dean asked.

"Well, no, but-" Sam started, Dean cutting him off.

"We should check it out anyway. I'm gonna grab Singer, then we'll head to you." Dean said, hanging up the phone, the blind man from earlier grabbing his arm.

"What are you doing here, kid?" the blind man asked, Dean thrown off by his sudden appearance.

"I'm...I was just sweeping." Dean said, the blind man not convinced.

"Bull. And, what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?" the blind man asked, rattling off rapid fire questions.

"Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control." Dean said, shocked that he overheard everything.

"We're a tight knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems." the blind man said, a little threateningly.

"We got a problem?" Dean asked, watching the man closely.

"You tell me. You're the one talking about human bones." the blind man said, Dean racing to come up with an explanation.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Dean blurted out.

"What?" the blind man asked, thrown off by the question.

"My brother, my girlfriend, and me...umm. We're writing a book about them." Dean said before quickly excusing himself to find you.

Dean had tried calling your phone a couple of times, each call going straight to voicemail. He walked around the grounds until he came upon the Strongman's tent. Mr. Cooper had given you the job of his assistant, and Dean could tell that the two of you were in the middle of a show, the crowd's applause and cheering ringing out from the tent.

Dean stepped through the opening and stood at the back of the crowd, watching as you walked around the strongman, showcasing him like a model would a prize on The Price is Right. This was the strongman's act, but Dean couldn't help but notice that most eyes were on you.

You always did have a habit of turning heads, but the skin tight, barely there crop top and skimpy shorts that left little to the audience's imagination certainly wasn't helping. Dean shrugged off his red jacket, dead set on covering you up the second you were off stage, and watched as the strongman prepared for the final act of the show.

Dean watched the strongman get down on one knee in the center of the stage, and hold out a hand to you. You circled around him before coming to a stop at his side, facing towards the crowd. The strongman turned the hand closest to you palm side up, his arm bent at the elbow, and you eased yourself down until you were sitting on his hand. With one fluid motion the strongman stood up, using his free hand to hold onto your hand to help balance you. With a nod of his head the strongman fully extended his arms, and the crowd went wild as he balanced you above his head.

Even though you had a bright smile plastered on your face Dean could tell that you were about two seconds away from losing your cool. Dean tossed his jacket on the back of one of the empty chairs and pushed his way to the stage, the corner of his mouth turning up when he saw how relieved you were to see him.

"Ivan, down." you said, the strongman looking up at you. "Pryamo seychas, mudak." you spat, Dean looking at you in confusion as Ivan quickly put you down.

As soon as your feet hit the stage you were whipping around to face Ivan, who was backing up with his hands up. Dean quickly jumped up on the stage and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back towards him.

"Come on, Singer." Dean said as you struggled in his hold.

"No, no, no. That fucker has it comin'. Not only did I have to deal with his fuckin' hand up my God damn ass all day, but my gloves weren't worthy of the costume." you said, Dean walking you back to the edge of the stage. "I could hear everything. He's lucky most of it was in Russian, or I probably would have bashed his God damn brains in." you added, Dean huffing out a laugh.

"Want me to go knock the guy on his ass?" Dean asked, still holding onto you, your fists clenched to keep from touching him.

"All I'm gonna say is that if you don't get me outta here we're gonna have another body on our hands." you said, Dean releasing you before walking down the steps.

"Let's go then. Sam thinks he may have something." Dean said as the two of you walked to the back of the tent, Dean grabbing his discarded jacket off the back of the chair and draping it over your shoulders.

"What'd you say back there, anyway?" Dean asked as the two of you walked out of the tent.

"Called him an asshole." you said, pulling the jacket closed around you.

"You speak Russian?" Dean asked, one brow raised.

"I picked up a few words from dumb ass back there, but I'm pretty fluent in curse words in most languages." you said, Dean chuckling as the two of you walked to meet Sam.

"What took you guys so long?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean.

"You don't wanna know." you sighed, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, long story." Dean said, Sam shaking his head in frustration.

"Mommy, look at that clown!" a little girl shouted, the three of you looking over to see a little girl pointing at nothing.

"What clown?" the child's mother asked. "Come on sweetie, Come on." she said before pulling the little girl away, the three of you sharing a look, knowing that you had the next targets.

"I cannot believe the two of you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam said, the three of you on stakeout outside the family from the carnivals home.

"It's not like we sought him out. We bumped into him on our way to meet you, and he started asking questions. We had to tell him something." you said, leaning up from the backseat.

"And that's what you came up with?" Sam asked, you rolling your eyes.

"Look, we told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. We never said it was real." Dean said as he pulled out his gun and cocked it, Sam grabbing at it, pushing Dean's hands down.

"Keep that down!" Sam scolded, afraid that someone would see.

"Relax, nobody can fuckin' see anything." you said, Dean speaking up before Sam could say anything to you.

"Oh, and get this. We mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their uh, evil clown apocalypse. Guess what." Dean said, Sam paying close attention.

"What?" Sam asked, anxious for Dean to continue.

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager." you explained, Sam nodding.

"So, you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked, you shrugging your shoulders.

"Something like that. It's the best we could come up with for now." you said, Dean shaking his head and sighing.

"I can't believe we keep talking about clowns." he said, you laughing under your breath as you leaned back in your seat, Dean closing his eyes.

Dean was dozing in the front seat when a light flicked on in the family's dining room, both you and Sam jumping to attention. Sam quickly shook Dean awake while you opened the bag next to you and started pulling out weapons. The three of you quickly exited the vehicle and rushed to the house, dead set on getting inside before the spirit did.

The three of you were hiding in wait, weapons at the ready as the little girl started to lead the clown down the hallway, "Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs." the little girl said, Sam leaping out and grabbing the girl, who started to scream.

Dean fired off a shot and hit the clown in the chest, the clown falling on it's back. You held your gun on him and quickly fired off another shot when he started to get back up.

"What the fuck?" you asked, the clown getting to his feet as both you and Dean tried to rack in another round.

"Sam, watch out!" Dean yelled, the clown leaping out the window, turning invisible as it ran away, the girl's parents rushing into the room.

"What's going on here? Get away from my-" the girl's father started, the mother quickly jumping in.

"Oh my God! What are you doing to my daughter?!" the mother asked, a horrified look on her face.

"Who the hell are you? Get out! Get out of my house!" the father yelled, the three of you running away as fast as you possibly could.

Dean pulled the minivan off the side of the road and put it in park. The three of you climbed out and started to dig out all of your belongings, Dean stopping to take the license plates as well.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam asked, watching as Dean tucked the plates into his bag.

"Not worth the chance." you said, hitching your bag up on your shoulder, Dean nodding in agreement.

"Besides, I hate this fuckin' thing anyway." Dean said, the three of you starting to walk down the road. "Well, one thing's for sure."

"What's that?" Sam asked, looking over to Dean.

"We're not dealing with a spirit." Dean said, you nodding.

"Yeah, that rock salt hit something fuckin' solid." you said, Sam looking to you.

"Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam asked, you shrugging your shoulders.

"Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?" Dean asked, Sam shaking his head.

"Nope." Sam replied, clearing his throat and pulling out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" Dean asked, nodding towards Sam's phone.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash will know something." Sam said.

"They'll definitely be able to narrow it down and give us a direction to go in." you said, Sam pausing in the middle of dialing the number.

"Hey, you guys think, uh, you guys think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean.

"No way." Dean said, shaking his head.

"Then, why didn't he tell us about her?" Sam asked.

"I don't think it's that big of a deal. I mean, I knew her and never said anything. It just never came up. You don't gotta tell people every single fucking person you know." you said, Sam shaking his head.

"But, she said he was like family once. I just think it's a little weird that he never mentioned her." Sam said.

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out." Dean said, Sam looking down at his feet.

"Yeah, you guys ever notice that Dad had a falling out with just about everybody? I mean, look at him and Bobby." Sam said, looking to you.

"I don't have anything to say about that." you said, Sam looking to Dean.

"Can't you see it?" Sam asked, Dean nodding casually, Sam lowering the phone. "Well, don't get all Maudlin on me, man."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, you knowing that a fight was bound to break out.

"Sam." you warned, Sam waving you off.

"No, no. You both need to hear this. This strong, silent thing the two of you are doing is crap." Sam said, Dean shaking his head.

"Oh, God!" Dean sighed, you preparing to break the two of them up.

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about." Sam said, looking at Dean. "This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to." Dean fired back, you stepping between them.

"We're not gonna do this right now." you said, Sam completely ignoring you.

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man, both of you. Drinking yourselves stupid doesn't count. Listen, I'm your brother, all right?" Sam said before looking to you. "Y/N, you're like my sister, and I know that you are going through things right now, too. I just want to make sure that you guys are okay."

"Sam, I'm fine." you said, Sam sighing before looking to Dean.

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. I don't understand why you have to keep pushing. I mean, fuck, it's like the only peace I can get is when I'm working on the car, or when I'm with Singer. She gets it, man. Why can't you? These are your issues, quit dumping them on us." Dean said, you ready to jump in.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, Dean looking down at his feet, pausing a moment before making eye contact with Sam.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you...you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And, now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late." Dean said, you putting your hand on his chest to stop him.

"Why are you saying this to me?" Sam asked, you shaking your head.

"Don't. Enough is enough." you said, trying to protect Sam, Dean looking down at you before looking to Sam.

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?"Dean asked, you pushing against his chest.

"God fucking damn it! I said that was enough. He got the fuckin' point." you said, Sam swallowing loudly, looking upset.

"I'm going to go call Ellen." Sam quietly said before walking ahead of you and Dean.

You and Dean caught up to Sam a little further down the road, neither one of you saying anything to each other about the blow up. Both of you kept a bit of distance from Sam and listened as he finished his conversation.

"Thanks a lot." Sam said before hanging up the phone and turning to you and Dean. "Rakshasa."

"What's that?" Dean asked, you thinking back to where you'd heard the name before.

"Ellen's best guess." Sam started, you interrupting.

"Rakshasa. That's Hindu, isn't it?" you asked, Sam looking to you.

"Yeah, it's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, and they feed on human flesh. They can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited." Sam explained, looking between you and Dean.

"So, they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in." Dean said.

"Yeah." Sam said, you nodding.

"That's pretty fuckin' smart." you said, both boys agreeing.

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?" Dean asked, Sam shrugging.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" Sam suggested.

"What else'd you find out?" Dean asked.

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. The sleep on a bed of dead insects." Sam said, you wrinkling your nose.

"Nice." Dean sighed, Sam nodding.

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years." Sam said, you jumping in.

"Slow metabolism, I guess." you said, Sam huffing out a breath.

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81." Dean said, Sam looking over to him.

"Right. Probably more before that." Sam said, you taking a few steps ahead of them before turning around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"Well boys, who do we know that worked both shows?" you asked, Sam and Dean sharing a look.

"Cooper?" Sam asked, Dean quickly speaking up.

"Cooper." Dean said, you nodding.

"You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him." Sam said, you falling back in line with them.

"You think maybe it was him?" Dean asked.

"That's what I would bet on." you said, looking over at him.

"Yeah, who knows how old he is." Sam said, the three of you quiet for a moment.

"Ellen say how to kill him?" Dean asked, you speaking up before Sam could answer.

"Some kind of blade I think. I've read about it before, but I can't fuckin' remember." you said before looking to Sam.

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass." Sam said.

"I think I know where to get one of those." Dean said, Sam stopping the two of you.

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." Sam said, a serious expression on his face as he looked between you and Dean.

"Come on, Sam." you sighed. "Where's the fun in that?" you teased.

"You're such a stickler for details, Sammy." Dean said, the three of you smiling at each other. "All right, me and Singer will round up the blade, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs."

Once the three of you were back on the carnival grounds Sam split away from you and Dean. He headed towards Cooper's trailer while you and Dean went to go find the blind man.

"Well, I've got all kinds of knives. I don't know if I've got a brass one, though." the blind man said, leading you and Dean into his trailer.

Sam picked the lock on Cooper's trailer and eased open the door. He stepped inside and quickly looked around, pulling out his pocket knife once he spotted the small bed. Sam walked over and started to slice through the mattress, looking for any evidence of dead insects. Suddenly, Sam heard a gun cock from behind him, and he instantly froze.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mr. Cooper asked, pointing his gun at Sam.

The blind man let you and Dean into his trailer and tapped a trunk with his cane, "Check the trunk." he said, Dean bending down to open the trunk, both of you spotting the red clown wig.

"Well, fuck me." you whispered, Dean standing back up.

"You?" he asked, the blind man dropping his cane before pulling off his glasses.

"Me." he said, his eyes going cloudy, his face beginning to melt as he waved, his face then disappearing Cheshire Cat style, his glowing eyes the last thing you saw.

Dean grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you towards the door. He started to struggle with the door, a knife flying past his head to bury into the door. You quickly pulled off a glove and held up your hand as Dean jumped back, another knife landing with a thunk a little higher.

"All right!" Dean yelled, you releasing the ball of light in the direction the knives came from, unsure if you even hit him.

"We need to fuckin' move." you said, looking back over your shoulder at him, Dean finally managing to get the door open.

"Hey!" Sam shouted, seeing the two of you tumble out of the trailer.

"Hey." Dean said, making sure that you were by his side.

"So, Cooper thinks I'm a Peeping Tom, but it's not him." Sam said, looking between you and Dean.

"Yeah, no shit." you said, looking behind you, Dean quickly jumping in.

"Yeah, we gathered that. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere." Dean said, the two of you looking around.

"Well, did you guys get the-" Sam started to ask, Dean interrupting.

"The brass blades? No." Dean said, Sam looking to you.

"We were a little busy trying not to become fuckin' pin cushions. Asshole started throwin' fuckin' knives after he went all Invisible Man on us." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, it's just been one of those days." he said, Sam pausing to think a moment.

"I got an idea. Come on." Sam said, leading the two of you towards the fun house.

The three of you entered the fun house, a door slamming down as you went through. Dean was on one side while you and Sam were on the other, both of them struggling to open the door.

"Sam! Singer!" Dean yelled, still trying to open the door.

"De, you okay?" you asked as Sam stopped trying.

"Dean, find the maze!" Sam instructed before pulling you along after him.

Sam stopped in front of a pipe organ, the organ giving off steam. He reached for one of the pipes, quickly pulling his hand back as he grimaced from the heat.

"Here." you said, grabbing onto the pipe with your gloved hands, trying to pull it down.

Sam stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a bandanna before wrapping it around his hand, He grabbed onto the pipe and helped you pull, the pipe snapping free just as Dean came around the corner.

"Hey." Dean said, you pulling off your gloves as Sam took the pipe in his hands.

"Hey! Where is it?" Sam asked, looking frantically around.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see it's clothes walking around?"Dean asked, you shaking your head.

"We didn't see them in the trailer." you said, a knife flying past, pinning Dean's sleeve to the wall, another one zooming by to pin his wrist.

"Guys!" Dean yelled, Sam stalking forward slowly, a knife flying past his head.

"Where is he?" Sam asked, you trying to free Dean.

"I don't know!" Dean shouted, reaching up with his free hand and pulling a lever, more steam pouring from the pipe organ, giving a vague shape to the invisible attacker.

"Sam, behind you!" you yelled, Sam stabbing the pipe behind him without looking.

Sam turned to see the pipe buried in the still invisible creature, blood pouring from the wound. You and Dean finally managed to get him free, and the two of you turned to see only empty clothes and a bloody pipe.

"I hate fun houses." Dean breathed out, turning to look at you.

"Yeah." you said, letting out a slow breath.

Sam and Dean were sitting at the bar back at the Roadhouse as Ellen placed a couple of beers in front of them.

"You boys did a hell of a job. Your dad'd be proud." Ellen said before quickly surveying the room.

"Thanks." Sam said, Ellen turning her attention back to them.

"Y/N not with you?" she asked, Dean taking a swig of his beer.

"Said she had to talk to Ash about something." Dean said, Jo sitting on the other side of him, giving Sam a look.

"Oh yeah, um, I've gotta...uh, uh, I've gotta go. Over there. Right now." Sam said, quickly getting to his feet, stopping by Jo and leaning down to whisper in her ear. "I'd be careful if I were you." he said, knowing how temperamental you could be.

"So." Jo said, clearing her throat, completely disregarding Sam's warning.

"So." Dean said before taking another drink, knowing what she was going to say.

"Am I gonna see you again?" she asked, Dean looking straight ahead.

"I, uh, I don't know." Dean said, Jo leaning towards him.

"I wouldn't hate it, you know." she said, Dean taking a deep breath.

"Hmm. Can I be honest with you? See, in the past I'd be hitting on you so fast it'd make your head spin. But, uh, these days..." Dean said, trailing off when he saw you walk in from the back room.

"Wrong place, wrong time?" Jo asked, nodding towards you.

"There's no way I'm gonna mess that up." Dean said, Jo nodding.

"It's okay, I get it." she said, Ash walking out the same door you did, carrying the folder and a bizarre looking laptop.

"Where you guys been? Been waitin' for ya." Ash said, Ellen passing you a beer as you sat down at the bar.

"We were workin' a job, Ash. Clowns." Sam said, Ash raising a brow.

"Clowns? What the-" Ash started to ask, Dean cutting him off.

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked, Ash setting the laptop down, the exposed wiring making it look homemade.

"Hey, Ellen, can I get something a little stronger?" you asked, the corner of Ellen's mouth turning up.

"What can I getcha?" she asked, you pushing your beer aside.

"Johnnie Walker." you said, Ellen turning around. "Make it a double." you added, Dean giving you a worried look.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked, Ash shaking his head.

"It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But, if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie." Ash said, you laughing under your breath.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, needing a better explanation.

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm." Ash explained, Dean reaching for the laptop.

"Do you mind..."Dean started to ask, trailing off when Ash gave him a look, pulling his hand back from the keyboard. "Yeah."

"What's up, man?" Ash asked, Sam staring at the laptop.

"Ash, where did you learn to do all of this?" Sam asked, Ash shrugging.

"M.I.T.. Before I got bounced for fighting." Ash answered, Sam reeling back.

"M.I.T.?" Sam asked, a little shocked.

"It's a school in Boston." Ash said, like it wasn't a big deal.

"Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something." Dean said, Ash nodding.

"Si, si, compadre." Ash said, Dean taking another sip of his beer before sitting it down and getting to his feet.

"Singer?" Dean said as him and Sam headed for the door, you downing the rest of your drink before standing up.

"Hey, listen...if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back." Ellen said, you whispering something to Ash before joining Sam and Dean.

"Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish." Dean said, tossing his arm over your shoulders.

"Okay." Ellen said, giving the three of you a smile before you walked out the door.

The three of you had made it back to Bobby's, Sam and Dean were outside, and you were sitting at the kitchen table nursing a tumbler of whiskey.

"Mind if I join ya?" Bobby asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Don't ya think you're a little a long in the tooth to be drinkin' at this time of day?" you asked, Bobby huffing out a laugh.

"D'ya just sit around and think of ways to be a smart ass?" Bobby asked, grabbing a glass before sitting down across from you.

"Nope. I don't even have to think about it. It's just a natural talent." you shot back, sliding the bottle to him.

"What'd Ellen have to say?" Bobby asked, pouring himself a drink.

"She offered to help with the demon. Long story short, Ash is tracking it. He said if any signs pop up, he'll know." you said, Bobby nodding, the two of you slipping into silence. "You, uh...you said that I knew things when I was little." you finally said, Bobby looking up at you.

"Yeah." he said, trying to prepare himself for another fight.

"Well, what happened? I mean, I don't remember any of that, and all of....this." you said, holding up your hands, "didn't start until...well, it wasn't happening back then."

"I wish I had a solid answer for you, Kid. It all just kind of stopped out of nowhere. I...I can't explain it." Bobby said, you shaking your head. "Look, I'd give anything to be able to tell you-" he started, you interrupting.

"You can't tell me what you don't know." you said before picking up your drink and finishing it.

"I'm gonna do some diggin', see if I can find anything." Bobby said, watching you closely.

"Yeah, okay." you said, thinking about whether you should tell him what you and Ash talked about. "I, uh, I asked Ash for help." you finally said, a worried expression sliding onto Bobby's face.

"Kid, you can't...if the wrong person-" Bobby started, you interrupting.

"I didn't tell him anything like that. I just asked him if he could find my-" you said, stopping short. "I just asked if he could try to track him down. I only gave him his name. That's it."

"It's not safe. It's just gonna open a whole new can of worms, and-" Bobby tried to say, you cutting him off.

"Pretty sure the can's already been opened." you said, Bobby shaking his head.

"There are people out there, hunters, that aren't gonna read between the lines. There isn't going to be any gray areas with them. It's black or it's white. Kid, I'm not going to be able to keep you safe." Bobby said, you standing up from the table.

"My entire life has been a lie. I...I don't even know who I am anymore. I know that the truth probably isn't going to be pretty. It never is, but I think I deserve to know what it is. Dad." you said, Bobby looking up at you with teary eyes. "You can't hover over me my entire life. You gotta let me make my own way, and trust that I can handle myself."

"I know. It's just-" Bobby said, looking away from you, not able to finish his thought. "What if you find him, and..."

"Like you said, you may not have made me, but YOU are my father. I'm a Singer, and I'm not lookin' to fuckin' change that." you said, Bobby looking a bit relieved. "I...I just need to know-"

"I know." Bobby said, standing up from his seat. "Just promise me that you'll take care of yourself, and that you'll call if you ever need anything." he said, you walking over to him.

"I will." you said before wrapping your arms around him. "I just want to say this real quick, and them I'm gonna knock it the fuck off because it's gettin' a little too God damn mushy." you said before taking a deep breath. "I couldn't have picked a better man to be my father. I love you, Old Man."

"I love ya, Kid." Bobby said, kissing the top of your head, the two of you holding tightly to each other. "Now." Bobby said, clearing his throat. "You better go check on those idjits."

"Yeah." you said, holding on a second longer before stepping back , the two of you sharing one final look before you left the room.

"You were right." Sam said, Dean busy working on the Impala while Sam paced nearby.

"About what?" Dean asked, not looking up.

"About me and Dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. So, you're right. What I'm doing now, it's too little. It's too late." Sam said, pausing a beat, his bottom lip trembling. "I miss him, man. And, I feel guilty as hell. And...I'm not all right. Not at all." he said, tears in his eyes. "But, neither are you. That much I know." he said, pausing. "I'll let you get back to work." he added before walking away.

Dean was still for a moment, all of Sam's words sinking in. He picked up a crowbar before walking to a nearby car and smashing out the window. He looked down at the crowbar in his hand before walking back to the Impala and slamming it into the trunk. He couldn't stop after that first hit. He just kept slamming the crowbar down, over and over, letting out all of the frustration and anger that he had been bottling up.

Dean finally took a step back, his shoulders slumping as he let the crowbar clatter to the ground. He looked back over his shoulder, expecting to see Sam standing there, his lip starting to tremble when he saw you standing where Sam had been. He quickly looked away, keeping his back to you as he tried to compose himself.

Things had been a little awkward between the two of you, both of you preferring to just skirt around everything. It was easier than talking about it. It was easier than having to face the truth. Vulnerability wasn't easy for either one of you, and you knew that in that moment Dean was feeling completely exposed. All of the feelings and emotions that he had been trying to bury deep down finally worked their way to the surface.

That was always the problem with holding everything in. You become a powder keg, a ticking time bomb, and you explode eventually. Then, you are bare. Every flaw, every weakness is on display for everyone to see, and you are left there trying to pick up the pieces of your own self destruction.

You knew that he probably wanted to be alone, to hide away until he could build that walk back up. You would want the same thing, but you couldn't let him be alone. You needed to let him know that you were there to help him pick up the pieces. So, without thinking anymore about it, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him from behind. You pressed yourself tightly to him, one hand coming up to rest over his heart.

Dean stood there completely stiff for a moment, struggling internally, trying his best not to break. You didn't say anything. It wasn't time for words yet. You just held onto him tightly, your cheek resting against his back. You finally felt him relax, his shoulders starting to shake.

"I'm right here." you softly said, Dean's hand coming up to rest over yours.

"S-Singer, I...I don't know what to do. I'm...lost." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know, De. I know." you said, pausing a moment. "But, I'm right here, okay? When you feel like you can't count on anything else, you can fuckin' count on that." you said, Dean squeezing onto your hand. "I'm not gonna tell you that I know what to do, or that I have any answers because I don't. But, I will tell you that I'll be here every step of the fuckin' way." you added, Dean silent for a moment.

"You and me." he finally said, you taking a deep breath.

"You and me." you repeated, those three words saying everything that needed to be said.

A/N: Hey guys, I just want to apologize for the delay again. I also want you all to know just how much I appreciate each and every one of you. All of the kind words and love I have received mean the world to me. <3 <3

Tags: @for-a-brothers-love @slytherinrising @miraclesoflove@22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma @spnae @karikatz12481@spngirl05 @winchester-fantasies @freddiemermaytaydeac@rainbowkisses31 @in-deans-arms @scentedhoundshepherdmoney@teamfreewillisbae @it-could-go-off@moonlight-on-her-skin@channy4eva @monkeymcpoopoo @dean-is-my-superhero@sherlock44 @becs-bunker @that-was-scary@kissmyacdc @dean-is-a-cutie @that-was-scary @cra-zy-vib-es1999 @a-little-bit-of-everythin @a-fangirl-stuff@imsuperawkward@dean-is-my-favorite@ilovetoread44 @xcastielbabyangelface@frederikkeborup@saaamsayshi @irelandsharpie@literallytrashhhhhh @satanic-bastard @deanw-is-pretty @satans-0-spawn @deanwanddamons@womanizerbucky@lieutenantdanielle @dean-is-a-cutie@kissmyacdc @spnbaby-67@celestial-kanzakii @neerness @to-have-deans-love @be-with-me-for-evermore@artemisandromedaathena-blog @rach5ive@lynnehmr @lunalunnel@delicatediplomatsaladlight@imsuperawkward @alanegaming@team-free-will-you-idjiot @supersassyprobablysad @deanwinchestersmydaddy @newheart97 @dhawandyke @castiel-has-bees @akshi8278 @greenarrowhead @waywardson2020 @sammypotato67 @idksupernatural @all-will-be-well-love @dream-believe-and-love @leahhh-marieee

#supernatural reader insert #spn series rewrite #series rewrite #season two #reader insert #dean winchester #dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #SPN #spn fic #Sam Winchester

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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Thought I Couldn't Top It, Huh? OVER 2000 Questions! (Truly the Longest!) Created by distortedcognition Part 5

x__Odd Questions__x

What color is the bottom of your tongue? Pink and whiteish. Your foot? White, like the rest of my skin. Do you have any medical problems concerning feet? No. Do you secretly fantasize about George W. Bush? Uh, no... Do you chew on your homework? No... Pencils? No, I’ve never chewed on any writing utensils or school supplies. Do you read the dictionary? No, not even when I’m super bored. Encyclopedia? When I was a kid I had some that were made for kids that I liked.

Atlas? No. Road map? No, that’s what GPS is for.

Do you memorize random facts? Sure.

Do you stalk anyone? No.

Does anyone stalk you? Not that I know of... Do you collect dust? Not purposefully, but since I don’t dust I guess I do.... :X Lint? No. Baby teeth? No. Have you ever thought of becoming a prostitute? No. Do you use lotion on your feet? Yeah. Have you ever played a kazoo? Nope. Have you ever shot someone? Uh, no. Something? A target. How many pairs of underwear do you own? Several. Jeans? A few. What ring size are you? Like a 7 or 8. Belt size? I’m not sure, I never wear belts. Have you ever gotten anything amputated? No. Do you have a calendar from 2001 hanging in your room? No. That would be quite outdated. Do you eat a lot? I wish I could eat more so I could gain some weight. Do you get excited over cameras? No. Do you have a strange obsession with pickles? No, but I l like them. Poison? Uh, no. I’d like to avoid poison, please. Knives? No. Cheese? I love cheese. Penguins? No.

Bald people? No.

Pirates? No. Corny jokes? I am a sucker for corny and punny jokes. Are you a virgin? I am. Have you ever tied your tooth to a door to lose it? No. Do you bite yourself? No. Do you get cold sores often? No, thankfully. Those hurt so bad. Do you have a cold right now? No. Do you suffer from chronic migraines? No. Do you like to touch sharp objects? Uh, no. Do you have a twitching problem? No. What do you do on the computer? I spend most of my time on it scrolling through Tumblr, doing surveys, watching YouTube, and playing The Sims. Anything your parents should know about? Not that I can think of. Are you happy with your life? :/ Is everybody else happy with your life? Uhh, probably not. Do you like 100% white grape juice? No. How big is the universe? Bigger than you can even imagine. How many hours of sleep do you get every night? A few hours at most. What do you dream about? Random shit. Do you enjoy bungee jumping? I would never go bungee jumping. Do you have AIM? Well, not anymore since it doesn’t exist. I hadn’t used it since like 2009 anyway. MSN? No, I never had MSN. YIM? Not anymore. Is that still a thing? A Neopets account? I highly doubt my account still exists out there since I haven’t been on it since the early 2000s. I don’t even know Neopets is still around. A Vampirefreaks account? No. A Quizilla account? No. A Bzoink account? No. Do you watch bugs crawl on the floor? Ew, no. Do you follow the bugs that crawl on the floor? Absolutely not. Do you get attacked by ladybugs? NO, thankfully. Are you scared of everything that breathes? Ha, I know I’m a big scardy cat but I wouldn’t say that sheesh. Are you scared of anything at all? Yeah, a lot of things. What? A lot of things. Which cardinal direction do you like best? The one that takes me in the right direction at the time. Do you have a life? Nope.

Then why are you taking this? Because I don’t have a life. Do you have a microphone on your computer? Yeah. A webcam? Yeah. A scanner? Yes. A printer? Yes. A cordless mouse? No. I have a laptop and just use the trackpad. Does your mouse light up? -- What kind of computer do you have? A MacBook Air. Were you ever physically abused? No. Verbally? No. Sexually? No. Do you wish you were a fish? Nah, I’m good. A cat? No. A dog? No. Do you have a cell phone? I do. What kind is it? It’s an iPhone 12 Pro Max. Do your teachers like you? My teachers always loved me. Do your parents like you? My parents love me. Do your siblings like you? Yes. Does karma, if it exists, love you? I don’t believe in karma. Did you have a tail when you were born? No. Do you enjoy school? I enjoyed parts of it. Are you a packrat? I do have a hard time getting rid of stuff. Do you know HTML or CSS? I know some very basic HTML. Do you find yourself chewing on anything your fingers have touched? My food? Do you shy away from social situations? Yes. Are you obsessed with shiny things? No. Are you at least attracted to them? I do find them pretty to look at, sure. Do you smash guitars or any other type of instrument? No. I don’t understand that. Are you proud of doing so? -- So. How bad can I make you look? Why do you want to make me look bad? Besides, I do that well enough on my own.

Do you wash your hands frequently? Yeah, especially since the start of the pandemic. Do you wet the bed? No. What age did you stop? When I was a little kid. Do you lie a lot? No. Have you lied at all in this survey? Nope. I have no reason to. Do you forget to brush your teeth frequently? No, I don’t forget to brush my teeth. Do you brush your hair? Yeah. Do you use antismelly? No. I don’t even know what that is. Are you an alcoholic? No, I don’t even drink. A druggie? Nope, I don’t do drugs. Do you drink illegally? I’m 32 I can do so if I wanted to. Do you wear underwear? Yes. Do you change it frequently? Everyday. Are you a coward? Yeah, you could say that. A loser? Yes. An idiot? Yep. Do you text talk? I use “lol”, “wtf”, “wth”, “omg”, but otherwise no I don’t like to use shorthand. Are you a bad friend? :/ Are you untrustworthy? No. Unreliable? I feel like I haven’t been the most the reliable these past few years. Do you pick your nose? No. Are you imperfect? Yes. Ugly? Yes. Do you have bad hair? Yes. A big nose? No, I don’t think so. Are you shallow? No. Greedy? No. Do you tell people you love them just to get what you want? No, definitely not. I don’t throw those words around and only say it if I mean it. Do you have any /important/ talents? I have no talents. Are you impolite? No, I don’t think so. Disrespectful? No. Do you have buck teeth? No. Acne? Not currently. Mentall illnesses? Yes. Does your breath smell? I hope not. Do you have a strong body odor? No. Do you have bad teeth? I would like to get veneers. Are you overweight? No, I’m too underweight. Anorexic? No. Bulimic? No. Do you have a piercing in an inappropriate spot on your body? No. A tattoo? Nope. Are you a wannabe? Yeah, I wannabe healthy and happy, ha. Do you get bad grades? I got A’s and B’s. Are you a bad guesser? Yeah, I suck. Just tell me what it is. Are you bad at reading people? I think I do a fairly good job at it, actually. Are you too nice for your own good? I used to be that way and got taken advantage of. Do you have a lot of friends? I have zero friends. Do you give in easily? I usually do. Are you stubborn? Very. Are you annoying? I feel like I am. Are you a necrophilliac? No. Are you incestuous? No. Is your room messy? It could use a little straightening up, but it’s not too bad. Do you make fun of other people? No. Do you respect your body? I guess you could say I don’t since there’s things I should be doing to take better care of myself that I don’t do. :/ I’ve neglected myself in a lot of ways. Are you arrogant? No. Do you have low self-esteem? Very. Are you unique? I don’t think I am. Are your hands clammy? No. Are you short? I am. Are you freakishly tall? No. Do you like Simple Plan? I liked some of their songs. It’s been awhile since I’ve listened to them, though.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #over 2000 questions survey series part 5 #long survey #about me

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iwaisa · 4 years

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request. Minaaaa my girl for the whole alphabet maybe-?? 👁👄👁 yk I'm also a simp for her lmfaodbdbdb ne ways have a good day - @xmalereaderfics

a/n. ouuuu yes mina <3 thank u bby for requesting !

► now playing...

- warnings. swearing! suggestive content lol

a - affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

↳ she’s SO affectionate. literally always holding you. she will not give two shits if someone sees you two making out in public. her favourite way would have to be hugs though. she gives the fattest bear hugs ever.

b - best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

↳ always trying to get you to do crazy things with her and the bakusquad. she instantly took an interest in you and she just had to include you in everything she does.

c - cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

↳ LIVES FOR CUDDLES. she would definitely love laying on top of you or having you lay on top of her.

d - domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

↳ she 100% wants to settle down. she’s already thinking about how she / you will propose. she’s,,, not the best at cooking,,,but it’s the thought that counts :D

e - ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

↳ she would definitely have a hard time breaking up with her s/o. she wouldn’t want to lead you on, so she would probably take a day or two beforehand. she would do it in person, stating how she simply wants to be friends again. </3

f - fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

↳ she’s so excited to spend the rest of her life with you so i would say right when you two get out of college lol. she wants to make sure both of you are financially stable because she believes you deserve a whole mansion and however many pets you want.

g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

↳ she’s used to being around guys mainly, so she’s not very physically gentle. if you tell her a funny joke she’ll slap your arm and fold over laughing. emotionally she’s extremely gentle. she treats you like a GOD.

h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

↳ like i stated in the first letter, she. loves. hugs. every morning she’ll run up to you and literally squeeze the life out of you. when you two leave to go back to your own dorms; soul-snatching hugs.

i - i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

↳ she says it fairly quickly. she probably won’t even think about it honestly, but she knows she’s ready to say it. it might be one month or even a couple of weeks into the relationship.

j - jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

↳ she doesn’t get jealous easily honestly. she trusts you with her life and when she sees you with another person she knows its strictly platonic. this doesn’t mean she won’t run up to you and steal a kiss (or smack your ass ;) )

k - kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

↳ eager kisses!!! she loves you so much and she wants to show it. might be a little too much movement at first but she gets the hang of it. she loves kissing you on your cheeks and nose and she loves being kissed on the forehead :)

l - little ones (how are they around children?)

↳ KIDS LOVE HER. she teaches them fun dances all the time and she’s just that funny/crazy aunt figure to them.

m - morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

↳ she’ll probably attempt to make you breakfast. that doesn’t go so well, so either you have to make her breakfast or you have to beg bakugou. she’s super energetic in the morning and once she’s up, she can’t fall back asleep.

n - night (how are nights spent with them?)

↳ if it’s a long day after training, she’ll probably be exhausted. if it was just a regular school day, she’ll still be her excited teasing self. she’s super lovable at night and steals so many kisses. she’s a cuddle monster :))

o - open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

↳ i believe she opens up really quickly. she doesn’t want to overwhelm you at first so she gradually reveals things about herself, making sure you have time to tell her all about yourself too :)

p - patience (how easily angered are they?)

↳ you barely see mina angry. the only time you will is if there’s a villain attack, or the boys just played some sick prank on you. she’ll laugh it off if it’s on her, but will rip someone’s head off (kaminari or sero) if they prank you and hurt/scare you.

q - quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

↳ she remembers everything!!! your favourite color, favourite food (don’t let her make it), you favourite line from a book you read back in sixth grade that made you cry, EVERYTHING.

r - remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

↳ definitely your first kiss. she believes it was a staple and it was the start of something beautiful :)

s - security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

↳ so protective. she won’t baby you, but she would hurt someone severely if they lay a finger on you. she wants to be there with you 24/7 so she can keep you out of danger, as long as you do the same.

t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

↳ will buy you anything. literally anything. she will have fights with you about who’s credit card the cashier/waiter takes. she puts in so much effort, but she never gets tired of it.

u - ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

↳ sometimes it seems like she doesn’t care. of course, she’ll protect you if needed, but sometimes you wish she would get jealous if you’re talking to someone.

v - vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

↳ she’s not very concerned, but she will want to look good just for you ;)

w - whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

↳ she will feel like something is missing, but she’s not completely broken.

x - xtra (a random headcanon for them)

↳ she brags about you on a private account she made so she doesn’t get embarrassed when you see them. also she makes a journal of all the dreams she had about you.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

↳ i believe she doesn’t like people who take jokes seriously. she would need someone with tough skin because she wants to be able to poke fun at you or prank you with the boys.

z - zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

↳ i think she’s a clingy sleeper. she never moves, she just squeezes the life out of you while you’re sleeping. it’s super cute though <3

issa’s 200 follower event!

#issa's 200 follower event!#mha #bnha #mina ashido #mina x reader #ashido mina

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kayokos-villain-imagines · 4 years

Note

could i have a sfw alphabet for overhaul please 🥺 or could you link me to one if you’ve done one aha

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s really… not. If you beg fervently enough, he’ll pull you close and tuck your head under his chin, but that’s pretty much the extent of Overhaul’s affection.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You’d have to know Overhaul for a very long time for him to consider you a friend. Even then, he has trouble admitting that you’re anything besides an acquaintance (tsundere boy). Despite this, he’s very protective of you, and will obliterate anyone who tries to hurt or insult you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Overhaul initially isn’t fond of cuddling, but he’ll tolerate it as proof of how much you mean to him. Later on in your relationship, he’ll allow you to cuddle him whenever you need to.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I’ve mentioned this before but I have a headcanon that Overhaul has never really cooked for himself since he’s always had subordinates to do it for him. He’s not necessarily bad at it, just inexperienced. He’s great at cleaning, to a fault, and he’d only sit back and relax in life after his goal of bringing the Yakuza to their former glory comes to pass.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d tell you upfront why you won’t work out in the long run. He gives you plenty of time to gather your things and relocate, but he won’t tolerate you trying to win him back after he’s made up his mind.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Overhaul feels as though he has to vet you very thoroughly before you become his life partner, so you’ll have to be very patient.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Overhaul is surprisingly gentle with you. He’ll make sure no harm comes to you, either accidentally or on purpose, and when he’s angry, he tends to avoid touching you so he doesn’t accidentally activate his quirk and traumatize you. Emotionally, he’s less tender. Overhaul is known for being brazenly honest, and this doesn’t change with you, but he definitely won’t go out of his way to be mean or hurt your feelings.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Similarly to affection, he doesn’t like hugs at first. He’s not used to them, but the more you hug him, the more he realizes that they’re not so bad coming from you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a while. When he does say it, it’s because he’s realized how much you mean to him, and that he really likes having you by his side.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Overhaul hates seeing other people touch you, spread their filth to you, act like they’re worthy of you, etc, etc. He deals with this by overhauling them.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

When he’s jealous, quick and rough. When you’re completely alone, he still prefers quick smooches over long makeout sessions, but he’ll be much more loving.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not… good. He genuinely doesn’t know how to care for kids, and he dislikes not having full control over situations (if you’ve ever taken care of kids, you know that you’re never the one in control, even if you think you are).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Overhaul gets up fairly early, so it pretty much depends on when you get up. If you tend to wake up early, you get ready together and he’ll give you a kiss before you go your separate ways for the day. If you wake up later, he’ll assign someone to save you a plate of breakfast, and expect a ‘good morning’ visit from you when you wake.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Lots of cuddling and him ranting about everything that happened that day. Sometimes, he’ll ask you to bathe with him so you can wash each other’s hair.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Once he decides that you’re a trustworthy partner (which may take a while), you’ll become the most trusted person in his life.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Overhaul has more patience with you than anyone else, mainly because he recognizes that you don’t ever mean to upset him. That being said, he does have a habit of getting annoyed quickly, especially when things don’t go exactly his way, so don’t expect him to stay calm with you all the time (but he’d never purposefully hurt you).

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

At first, Overhaul only memorizes the main facts about you, but over time, he’ll recognize the merit of memorizing smaller details that don’t necessarily make or break a relationship (your favorite color/food/movie, etc).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Probably when he was walking down the hallway and overheard you yelling at two low-ranking employees for talking bad about Overhaul behind his back. The show of loyalty on your part gave him a huge ego boost and he still thinks about it years after the fact.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Overhaul is protective to a fault. He’ll kill anyone who so much as makes you uncomfortable. Everyone at the base knows not to mess with you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A fair amount, for him. He won’t go all out, but he will strategically set up meetings and assign jobs so no one bothers you during a date night.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He doesn’t really know how to deal with you being upset, so he tends to kill anyone who offends/hurts/stresses you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Overhaul likes to keep a neat and sophisticated appearance, and by extension, he’d also like the same for you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

More than he’d realize. If you broke up, he’d seem more moody and irritable to outsiders, all while denying that you’re the cause. He also has more trouble sleeping than he normally does.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You can tell how Overhaul is feeling by what name he calls you. When he’s calm or happy, it’ll be “darling”, “dear”, or just simply your name. When he’s angry (not necessarily at you), he sticks strictly to your name. When he’s upset, he leans towards more possessive names (“my darling”, “my sweet”, “my (Y/N)”, etc).

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Overhaul wouldn’t like to be with someone who makes big decisions without his permission. He likes to be in control, and this extends to your relationship. He’d never abuse you (like, you can go buy clothes or groceries without telling him), just give a heads up before you plan a vacation or something without him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Overhaul tends to wake up a lot in his sleep. Having you around helps him to get back to sleep, and sleep through the night in the first place.

(´• ω •`)ﾉ

18 notes · View notes

cocastyle · 5 years

Text

The In-Between Chapter 7

Stranger Things x It Crossover

with some Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 7,547

Warning - none

A/N - super long chapter because there is a lot in this one! anyways, I hope you all like it :)

if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

T H E I N - B E T W E E N

Intro The Losers’ Club The Party Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Epilogue

“Well, fuck. This house looks like a shit show just waiting to happen," Lucas muttered as he looked at the old house before them. He glanced at Y/N who was by his side currently snapping twigs in half before lightly nudging her with his elbow. She glanced his way and he pointed at the house. "Please tell me this isn't the place."

"Wish I could, Lucas," Y/N sighed. She then patted the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry. It looks scarier on the inside."

She then began to walk away while Lucas blinked in shock before yelling out, "You do know that doesn't help, right?"

Y/N just looked at him from over her shoulder and gave him a sly smile before walking over to the back of Steve's car where Steve, Wheeler, Stan and Bill were currently unloading the weapons and supplies. "You guys need any help?" Y/N offered.

Bill set the rope he had in his grasp on the ground before looking to Y/N with a small smile. "N-N-No, we're good. There's only a f-f-few more things left and th-th-then we should be good to g-g-go," Bill told her.

Y/N smiled back at him and Wheeler glanced between the two before chuckling softly as he got a small flashback of him and Eleven back when they hadn't admitted their feelings for each other yet.

"Denbrough," Steve called out causing the boy to look away from Y/N and over to the older boy who had his hands on his hips. "You gonna help or you gonna stare at Y/N all day?"

Bill instantly blushed and glanced at Y/N who let out a small laugh, her cheeks dusted a light pink. She gave him a wink before turning around to leave him to finish his job, for once not minding the small protective part of Steve that was coming out.

Y/N glanced around at her friends, smiling to herself at the sight of Lucas and Eleven talking to Beverly and Ben while Max, Will and Dustin talked with Richie. She liked that they were finally trying to get along for once.

The puff of an inhaler had her snapping out of her thoughts and she turned to see Eddie standing off to the side with an inhaler in hand and his focus on the Well House. He looked paler than usual and it didn't take Y/N long to notice the small shake of his hands as he gripped onto his inhaler like his life depended on it.

Y/N frowned and slowly walked over to her friend before placing a hand on his shoulder. Eddie instantly jumped and turned to her with wide eyes, but he relaxed almost as quickly once he realized who it was.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," Eddie greeted, his breathing still a little erratic.

"Hey, Eddie. You okay?" she asked, tilting her head slightly as she gave the boy a confused look.

"Uh. . .not really. I mean. . .I don't know about this, Y/N. My asthma can't take all this stress," Eddie admitted as he let out a breathy chuckle.

Y/N could tell the boy was scared, so she didn't hesitate to reach for his hand and give it a small squeeze. "Hey, you're going to be just fine, okay? You've got me, the rest of the Losers, and the whole Party here to help. It's not like you're going in there alone," she assured him. "Besides, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Eddie was silent for a moment before nodding. "I know," he whispered as he sent her a small smile. He let his inhaler return to its spot in his fanny pack before giving Y/N's hand a light squeeze. The girl smiled at him before Wheeler announcing that they were done had everyone turning to look at them.

The groups were silent as they stared at the supplies on the ground before them. No one made a move to grab something, so Dustin let out a sigh as he took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair before returning his hat to its rightful spot.

"Only half of us are going in, right?" Dustin asked and Y/N nodded in response. "So how are we going to do this? Draw from a hat?"

"We could always measure our wangs! I'll for sure wi-" Richie began, but the Losers were quick to exclaim, "Beep beep, Richie!"

"Why do I have to look like him?" Wheeler whispered as he lightly shook his head.

"We're going to draw sticks actually," Y/N said as she held out a handful of sticks she had broke when they first arrived. She glanced to Dustin and gestured towards his hat. "May I?" Dustin nodded and quickly took his hat off before handing it to the girl. Y/N smiled in thanks before placing the sticks inside and holding it out. "Okay, everyone grab a stick. The eight shortest sticks are the ones who have to go in."

One by one, the Losers and the Party all grabbed a stick from the hat. It wasn't until everyone had grabbed a stick that they slowly opened their hands, a little over half of the group letting out groans while the others let out sighs of relief.

In the end, Richie, Steve, Wheeler, Eleven, Y/N, Dustin, Bill and Eddie were the ones who got the short sticks.

"I would've won," Y/N heard Richie mutter as he pouted, but she just ignored him and went over to the pile of supplies and weapons with Eleven right on her heels and no complaints coming out of either of their mouths.

Y/N picked up a crowbar, some rope, and a flashlight while Eleven picked up a flashlight and some rope before they turned to the boys.

"Come on, princesses. We don't have all day."

- - -

"I love you, Y/N. I really do, but I'm so happy that I don't have to go in there," Stan muttered from his best friend's side as the two stared ahead at the pulsing goo portal before them.

Y/N grimaced at the colors coming from the portal before saying, "I love you too, Stan the Man, and I really don't blame you either."

"So we doing this or what?" Steve asked as he held his bat up against his shoulder. "The longer we stand here, the more we're just going to psych ourselves out."

"True," Y/N sighed before she began to pull Bill's jacket off. Said boy instantly looked over at her and gave her a confused look. She just smiled softly and said, "I don't want to get it messed up."

Bill smiled at that before taking it from her and setting it on top of a wooden chair that was bent to one side because of a missing leg. "It'll be th-th-there for you w-w-when you get b-b-back," Bill told her, the two smiling warmly at each other before looking to the portal in front of them.

"Okay, let's do this," Y/N muttered shakily. Bill glanced over at the nervous girl before reaching out and grabbing ahold of her hand, their fingers intertwining almost instantly. Y/N looked to Bill who gave her a small smile and a nod. She quickly returned it before the two began to walk towards the portal.

"Be careful!" Beverly called out before nervously biting her lips, worry coursing through her veins.

"Stick together!" Ben reminded them.

"And don't wander off alone!" Lucas added, Max nodding her head in agreement.

The people staying back continued to tell them to be careful and such as Y/N and Bill walked through the portal side by side. The two stumbled into the Upside Down almost instantly and Bill was quick to put his hands out and steady the girl, Y/N gripping onto his arms automatically before the two looked up and locked eyes.

Bill blushed as he stared at the girl and Y/N just sent him a small smile that made his heart start beating faster and his breath hitch in his throat.

"What the fuck? You've been in here for like ten seconds and are already making heart eyes at each other?" Richie asked in disgust as he pushed his way through the portal.

"Shut up, Tozier," Y/N grumbled as her and Bill pulled away from each other.

"Make me, L/N," Richie shot back before mockingly puckering up his lips. Y/N let out a laugh and shoved the boy away while Richie chuckled and Bill frowned.

One by one, Wheeler, Steve, Dustin, and Eleven came through the portal. It took a moment longer for Eddie to come through and he instantly grimaced at the sight of decay all around him before taking out his inhaler.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Eddie muttered. Y/N chuckled and nudged him before giving him a small reassuring smile. Eddie relaxed a little, but he was still pale as he looked at the room around him.

To Y/N's surprise, everyone then looked to her. The girl blinked in response and her eyes flickered over to Steve who gave her a small nod that told her to go ahead. She smiled ever so slightly before nodding her head towards the staircase. "Turn your flashlights on and come this way," she told them.

The group all nodded and turned their flashlights on before following the girl up the stairs and out of the house. Once they were outside, Y/N pulled out her map before opening it up and looking at the divided sections.

"Okay, since we don't know if Mike is still in the same spot Eleven last saw him in, it’s best if we check as many areas as possible. We split the map up into four sections so I say we pair off and then go from there," Y/N explained.

Bill's eyes lit up and he looked at Y/N before opening his mouth to speak, but Eleven beat him to it and exclaimed, "I call Y/N!"

Bill instantly frowned while Eleven linked arms with the girl. Y/N offered Bill a small smile and his frown instantly turned into a smile, not being able to keep a straight face when she smiled at him like that.

"I'll go with Bill," Steve offered, his eyes flickering between Y/N and Bill. Y/N let out a small sigh of relief, something about knowing that the older boy would be by Bill's side calming her almost instantly. As for Bill, he couldn't help but tense, already knowing what was about to happen.

"Okay then. I guess that means it will be me and Eddie and then Richie and Mike?" Dustin suggested. Everyone nodded except for Richie and Wheeler who looked at their friends with their mouths hanging open.

"What? Don't put me with his ugly ass!" Richie complained as he exasperatedly waved his arms around.

"Did he just call me ugly?" Wheeler asked, his face scrunched up in confusion and annoyance. "We have the same face! He does know we have the same face, right?"

The two boys began to bicker before the group's eyes and Y/N rolled her eyes before saying, "Tozier! Wheeler!"

The boys instantly stopped and looked to the girl. "Seriously? We have someone who needs us and you two are busy bickering? Save it for later, okay?" Y/N told them.

Richie and Wheeler frowned but nodded their heads. "Fine. We'll take the section that's on the far left of the map," Richie explained before he began to walk off. He glanced over his shoulder before yelling, "Come on, dipshit!"

Wheeler rolled his eyes and gave Y/N, Eleven, and Dustin an 'are you serious' look, but when none of them made a move to switch with him he pouted and hurried after the boy.

"So I guess they've got the far left section. Eleven and I will take the section with the quarry since she might be able to locate Mike when we get there," Y/N explained. "You guys split up the last two and then we'll meet back in our world, okay?"

The groups nodded and Y/N gave them all a small nod before saying, "Good luck." She then looked to Eleven and the two nodded at each other before beginning to walk off.

Y/N had taken no more than three steps before Bill was suddenly reaching out and grabbing onto her wrist. The girl turned around to see Bill looking at her worriedly. "B-B-Be careful, okay?" he whispered, his eyes flickering over her face as he stared at her in concern.

"I will," she assured him as she gave his hand a small squeeze.

"P-P-Promise?" Bill found himself whispering, almost afraid that he was going to actually lose her.

Y/N stepped up on her tip toes and kissed the boy’s cheek, Bill's face instantly turning red while Y/N smiled at him. "Promise," she whispered. "You be careful too, okay?"

Bill nodded and whispered, "Promise."

Y/N smiled softly at the boy before reluctantly pulling herself away. She glanced at the others boys where Eddie was currently smirking at her and said, "You guys be careful too. I don't know what I would do if any of you got hurt."

"We will. Now go," Steve told her as he smiled and waved her off.

The girl saluted him making the boys chuckle before Y/N ran after Eleven and the two disappeared into their section.

It was time to find Mike.

- - -

Eddie was silent as he walked through the Upside Down. He hugged himself and stared at the things around him in disgust, not wanting anything to touch him in fear that it might give him some disease or something.

Deciding he couldn't stare at everything or it would only freak him out, Eddie let his gaze fall on Dustin who was walking beside him. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Dustin since the boy had gotten here, but from what he remembered, Dustin was the reason Y/N's friends had all come here in the first place.

"So how long have you known Y/N?" Dustin asked, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts.

"Uh. . .two years now I guess. I met her at lunch on her first day of school after she moved," Eddie explained. Knowing that he probably had to keep the conversation going Eddie asked, "What about you?"

"Oh," Dustin chuckled a little at the memory before smiling and glancing at Eddie. "We met back in second grade. She was already friends with Lucas, so I knew who she was, but I didn't become friends with her until that year. There was this kid named Troy who liked to bully me because I have cleidocranial dysplasia and Y/N saw him making fun of me one day and called him in asshole before embarrassing him in front of the whole grade at recess. We became best friends after that."

Eddie chuckled and became a little less tense. "That sounds like Y/N alright. She once punched our school bully Henry Bowers in the face after he almost made me have an asthma attack. He threatened to beat the shit out of her for standing up for me, but she merely punched him square in the nose before grabbing my hand and running away. She ended up breaking her hand, but she said it was worth it because Henry had a broken nose and bruised face for the longest time," Eddie laughed.

Dustin let out a small laugh before shaking his head. "She gets herself into a lot of trouble doing things like that, but you got to love her," Dustin sighed, a distant look on his face.

Eddie let his eyes flicker over the boy's face before he frowned a little bit, the sudden realization of how much Dustin and his friends must miss having Y/N around hitting him hard. They had been best friends before she moved. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like if Y/N left them now.

"You know, she talks about you guys a lot and how much she misses you," Eddie said. "She loves you all a hell of a lot."

Dustin smiled softly at that before looking up at the boy. "Same goes for you. She talks so highly of you guys and how thankful she is for getting to be in your group. We used to have conversations before she left about how afraid she was of not fitting in. So the rest of the Party and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for her," Dustin told him.

Eddie stared at Dustin in surprise before letting a smile break across his face. "We're lucky to have her," Eddie answered truthfully.

A small silence fell among the two again, but this one was more of a comfortable silence than anything. It wasn't until they reached a small forest looking area that one of them spoke up again.

"Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew," Eddie muttered as he stepped over all the decay covered objects around him. It was to the point where the landscape around him was so destroyed and disgusting one couldn't even tell what the objects actually were and the smell was enough to make Eddie gag.

"It could be worse," Dustin pointed out making Eddie look at him confused.

"How could this place be any worse?" Eddie asked in disbelief.

"Well," Dustin began as he walked through the woods like it was nothing, "for starters, I've seen these plants where it will literally shoot out dust and some kind of like gross mist at people. I got that shit in my mouth once and it was disgusting let me tell you."

Eddie looked at the boy in horror, flashbacks of when It had changed into a leper and thrown up on him going through his head. The thought of one of those plant things doing what had happened to Dustin to him made him feel light heated.

"You haven't even seen the Mind Flayer," Dustin told him.

"Mind Flayer?" Eddie asked confused.

"Yeah, it's like the boss of the Upside down. It's gross and can like shoot parts of itself into people. It happened to El once and she had to literally rip the thing out of her leg with her powers. There was so much blood and. . .woah, are you okay?" Dustin asked as he looked to the pale Eddie.

"Y-Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Eddie said as he shakily reached into his fanny pack before taking a hit off his inhaler.

Dustin give the boy a skeptical look. "You sure?" he asked. Eddie nodded and Dustin sent him a small smile. "Good. Let's keep going."

Dustin then began to walk ahead and Eddie stood there for a minute before taking another hit off his inhaler and hurrying after the boy, silently wondering how things were going with the other groups right about now.

- - -

"Why did I have to get stuck with you?" Richie complained for what had to be the hundredth time since the pair had left the others. "You look like you wouldn't be able to tell a difference between a demogorgon and your own mom."

Wheeler glared at the boy, the fact that he was glaring at someone who looked exactly like himself still creeping him out. "You done yet? Cause you've been complaining ever since we left," Wheeler said.

"Your mom complains every time she leaves me, but you don't see me telling her to be quiet," Richie shot back.

Wheeler shook his head and looked away with a scoff. "How did you and Y/N even become friends?" Wheeler muttered, the tone in his voice making Richie freeze and look to the boy in pure hatred.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asked, his teeth gritted together as he instantly became defensive.

Wheeler looked surprised that Richie had heard him, but didn't back down as he stopped walking and turned to look at the boy. "The person she describes versus the person standing before me are two totally different people," Wheeler explained.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, his anger slightly starting to disappear and instead being replaced by confusion. "What do you mean the person she describes?" he asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Y/N actually thinks highly of you, Tozier," Wheeler said. "She won't shut up about the whole lot of you, but I remember some of the things she's said about you. How you probably care the most out of the group even if you won't show it or how you will spend days at the arcade with her just to make her smile. How you are one of the funniest people she has ever met and how you aren't afraid to get serious and help her out if she really needs it."

"Why would she say that about me?" Richie asked, cutting Wheeler off in his explanation because of how confused he was.

"You're one of her best friends, man. You helped her through a tough transition in her life when she had to move to Derry. Your jokes, if that's what you would like to call them, and the little arguments you all have helped get her mind off of all the hard things going on in her life. She was so damn excited for us to meet one day and even went on and on about how she thought you and I could be friends. But since we met I haven't seen the boy she's talked about and we sure as hell aren't even close to being friends."

Richie's face had gone blank, the confusion and anger completely gone. Instead his face seemed to morph into a look of guilt as he looked down at his shoes.

Y/N had really said all those things about him and he had been an asshole since the Party arrived just because he was a little insecure?

Wheeler stared at Richie for a moment before asking with crossed arms, "So what the hell have you done to deserve someone like her in your life?"

An ear ringing silence filled the air at that point and Wheeler stared at Richie expectantly for a moment. It was only when Richie didn't respond that Wheeler rolled his eyes and began to walk off again.

It took a minute before Richie was by his side again and that was when the boy found himself whispering almost sadly, "I don't know."

Wheeler glanced over at the boy, letting his eyes flicker over to the utter lost look on his face as if Richie honestly couldn't figure out why he had been lucky enough to have Y/N as once of his best friends.

There was only silence after that, the only sound being the crunching of leaves beneath their feet.

- - -

Bill gulped as he glanced at Steve who walked in front of him with his bat swinging gently from side to side. He watched as the older boy ran a hand through his hair before looking around. He glanced back at Bill and the boy was quick to look away, not wanting Steve to know that he had been staring at him.

Bill just couldn't comprehend why Steve had wanted to be paired up with him. He knew it couldn't be good by the way Steve had looked at him almost angrily when he had chose him, but Steve hadn't said a word since they left so Bill wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

"What do you want, Denbrough? Or are you going to keep staring at me and pretending like you aren't?" Steve called out, turning his eyes towards the boy for only a second before looking back in front of him.

Bill felt his cheeks warm up from having been caught before he asked, "W-W-Why did you want t-t-to be partners with m-m-me?"

"Cause we need to have a talk," Steve told him with a small shrug before going silent once again. Bill stared at the boy before giving him a look that asked if he was actually going to say anything.

Steve pretended not to notice him before he sighed and said, "Y/N's like my little sister, you know that?" Bill nodded in response and Steve mimicked him by nodding as well before saying, "Good, so you'll understand why I'm about to give you the while protective brother talk."

Bill blinked in surprised before looking at Steve with a shocked face. Protective brother talk? But why? Had Steve heard about the way he had treated Y/N the past day? He thought they had made up, so why was Steve wanting to give him a protective brother talk of it wasn't for that reason?

"Y/N's a great girl, but you already know that, right? She's so kind and caring and anyone would be lucky to have her. She's one of the best people I know and she's still just a kid," Steve said. "What I'm getting at is that Y/N is pretty special, okay? I know you know that just from the way you look at her like she's the only girl that matters. And Denbrough. . .you better not fuck up with her or you can bet that I'll be on your ass in a heartbeat."

"I wouldn't dare hurt her," Bill replied almost instantly, the shock about Steve giving him the protective brother talk because he thought the two were in a relationship still not having hit him yet. When it did, he looked down before whispering, "Plus there's no need to worry. She doesn't feel the same."

Steve blinked in surprise from how dumb Bill was before turning and putting a hand to Bill's chest. "Woah, woah, woah. Aren't you supposed to be somewhat smart or something?" Steve questioned. "You've got to be a complete dumbass to believe the shit that just came out of your mouth."

"You think Y/N doesn't like you?" Steve asked in disbelief. "Denbrough, I haven't seen her even so much as glance in someone's direction with half the love she looks at you with. You're crazy if you think she doesn't care about you."

Bill looked to Steve in surprise before asking, "B-B-But what if I m-m-mess up? W-W-What if she's doesn't l-l-like me after I t-t-tell her how I f-f-feel?"

Steve stared at the boy for a second and was reminded of himself back in high school when he was debating on telling Nancy Wheeler how he felt or back when he had liked Robin Buckley.

He let out a sigh before reaching out and placing a hand on Bill's shoulder. "Listen, Denbrough. You can't have that type of attitude or nothing is ever going to happen," Steve told him. "From what Y/N's told me, you're a pretty great kid. You won't mess it up and even if you did, I'm pretty sure Y/N would find it adorable anyways. All she's going to care about is the fact that the boy she cares about likes her back."

Bill was silent for a minute and Steve could practically see the cogs moving in the young boy's head as he came to terms with the fact that Y/N might actually like him back and that he should probably tell her how he felt as well.

Finally, Bill glanced up at Steve and sent a small smile on his direction. "Th-Th-Thanks, Steve," he whispered.

Steve shrugged as if it were no big deal before beginning to walk away. "Anytime, kiddo. And remember. Break her heart and I-"

"-break my face."

- - -

"I swear this place looks a lot nicer in our world," Y/N muttered as she stared at the Upside Down's version of the quarry in disbelief. Instead of the usual water she was used to seeing, she was met with liquid so black that it couldn't be anything good. And the smell that came with it? Absolutely nothing like the smell of fresh water, a summer breeze, and the trees that came with the actual quarry.

"I believe you," Eleven said as she grimaced at the sight before her. The two girls shuddered before backing away from the cliff, neither wanting to fall in accidentally.

"So where did you see Mike when you talked to him?" Y/N asked as she turned to her friend.

Eleven glanced around before looking down at the black liquid once again. "He was in a cave," she explained. "One down there perhaps?"

Y/N nodded as glanced over at the cliff one last time before looking to the rope she had attached to her belt. An idea instantly sprung into her head and within a matter of minutes she had tied the rope around her waist before giving the other end to Eleven.

"You hold this, okay? I need you to lower me down and then, when I get down there, I'll look for Mike and see if I can find him," Y/N told her.

Eleven nodded and the two girls went to the edge of the cliff before Y/N bent down on the ground and slowly began to crawl over the edge. It took a minute for her to find a groove for her foot, but she eventually did and climbing down from there wasn't too hard.

Y/N continued to climb down until she spotted a small opening a little to the right. She began crawling in that direction before she was finally able to land her feet in the ground. The young girl let out a small sigh of relief before flattening our her shirt and looking up.

The cave itself was dark on the inside so Y/N couldn’t quite see what was inside. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she gently gripped onto the rope in case she would have to tug lightly and have Eleven pull her up quickly.

"Mike?" Y/N called out, her voice just above a whisper in case whatever in the dark was not her friend.

There was a long moment of silence before she heard a small shuffling sound and then a, "Y/N?"

Out from the shadows stepped out a hesitant Mike and Y/N almost cried in relief at the sight of him. "Is that really you?" Mike whispered in disbelief, afraid that it might be Pennywise trying to trick him.

"No, it's me," she assured him, tears falling from her eyes as she smiled at her friend. "If I was It I don't think I would have a rope tied around my waist with one of my friends attached to the other end."

Mike gave her a confused look, but shook it off once he realized the girl standing in front of him was in fact one of his best friends. He didn't even hesitate before rushing forward, his arms wrapping around the girl as he let out a small laugh of relief.

Y/N stumbled back at the sudden force, but hugged Mike back just as tightly, the two both starting to cry at the fact that Mike was finally going to be safe.

"Holy shit," Y/N cried as he hugged the boy. "Don't you fucking do that to us again, you hear? Or next time I'll leave you in the Upside Down for good!"

Mike chuckled and pulled away before glancing out at the black 'water' in front of them. "I don't plan on it," he assured her. "Did you say the Upside Down? Like as in the place you've told us about before?"

"Yeah," Y/N sighed. "I thought we had closed the gate, but I guess we didn't. I don't know how you ended up here, but you must've gone through one of the portals that the demogorgons use."

"Demogorgons? Those alien looking creatures you've talked about? I only saw. . ." Mike trailed off as his face paled. "I only saw It."

"Yeah, I saw It too," Y/N told him. "But I think It is somehow connected to the Upside Down at the moment. Like connected so much to the point where they both seem to be working together."

"So it's like Pennywise meets the movie Aliens?" Mike asked, the girl nodding in response. "Well, that's just great."

Y/N chuckled before hugging the boy once again. "It's okay. We're going to get you out of here and then close the fucking gate, okay?" she said.

"That sounds great," Mike admitted as he let out a small laugh. "But who's we?"

"Well, all the Losers of course, but my friends from Hawkins all came down to help as well," Y/N explained.

"They did?" Mike asked in surprise.

"Yeah, in fact, one of them, her name is Eleven, is up above holding the other end of the rope," Y/N told him right as she felt a light tug on her waist coming from the rope. As if seeming to remember where they were, Y/N suddenly got back on task and said, "We should probably get going. We've been in the Upside Down for a while with no contact with It or the demogorgons, so I'm not quite sure how much longer we are going to have that luck for."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Mike said as the two walked to the edge of the cave. Y/N and Mike latched onto each other before Y/N lightly tugged on the rope. They were being pulled up only seconds later and Y/N was able to catch a glimpse of Eleven using her powers to pull them up before they were put onto the ground.

Eleven's face was suddenly hovering right above Y/N's and she gave the girl a concerned look. "You okay?" Eleven asked, worry on her face.

"I'm okay," Y/N assured her. "Great actually." The girl then sat up before gesturing towards Mike who was pushing himself up onto a sitting position. "This is Mike Hanlon. Mike, this is my friend Eleven Hopper."

Mike nodded over at Eleven in greeting. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming to save me," he breathed out.

Eleven just smiled in response, but her smile instantly disappeared as a howling sound filled the air.

"What was that?" Mike asked in a panic, his eyes searching frantically all around them.

"We need to go," Eleven said as she quickly helped Y/N to her feet. Y/N nodded in agreement and went to help Mike up, not noticing Eleven who had turned to see Will standing a little ways away from them with a blank look on his face.

"Will?" Eleven called out confused.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and turned, a gasp escaping her lips as she dropped Mike back on the ground and ran over to Eleven. "El, that's not Will," Y/N said as she grabbed her friend and began to pull her away from the creature who looked a lot like her friend.

"What-? But that's literally Will standing right in front of us?" Eleven said confused. "Unless you have a friend that looks like Will?"

"Not a friend," Y/N muttered.

"Not a friend?" 'Will' asked, tilting his head slightly as he smiled wickedly at the girl. "Oh, Y/N. That hurts my feelings."

Y/N pushed Eleven behind her and glared at the boy in front of her. "You're not Will. You're not my friend," she insisted.

The 'Will' took a step forward. "But we've been through so much together, Y/N. How would we not be friends? Would being best friends forever be better? Cause we could make it forever," 'Will' assured her.

"Get Mike," Y/N whispered as she shoved Eleven back towards her friend. Eleven nodded and went to go help the boy up while Y/N continued to stare at 'Will.'

"Sorry, buddy. I've got enough friends as it is," Y/N called out, taking another step back while 'Will' took a step forward.

"I'm sure you could use one more," 'Will' laughed. "We can all float! Wouldn't that be fun? We can all float! We can all float! We can all float!"

The 'Will' began to scream at them causing the three to stumble back slightly in surprise. But the part that really began to freak them out was when 'Will's' mouth opened up and cockroaches began to crawl out by the dozen. The cockroaches quickly covered the boy's entire body while 'Will' continued to yell, "We can all float!"

The howling sound was heard again only this time closer and 'Will' covered in cockroaches stopped screaming so that he could smile at the two. "Want to play a game?" he asked.

Y/N shook her head, but she had barely even started to before figures began to step out of the woods. "Shit, run!" Y/N yelled once she saw the demogorgons and demodogs that were filing in behind 'Will.'

Eleven and Mike didn't have to be told twice and before they could even register what was going on, the three friends were running away and back in the direction of the house, the demogorgons, demodogs, and 'Will' following after them.

They ran for what felt like hours and it wasn't until they were coming up on the edge of the woods that Y/N looked back to see that 'Will' has transformed back into Pennywise, the clown grinning at the girl and waving to her.

Eleven and Mike were ahead of the girl, so they pushed themselves through the last of the woods before catching sight of the Well House as well as Richie, Wheeler, Steve, Bill, Dustin, and Eddie who were all bolting towards the house with demogorgons on their tails.

"Hurry!" Mike yelled as he could hear the sound of the demodogs and demogorgons getting closer. He could even hear the sound of Pennywise laughing behind them which only made him pull Eleven along faster, the two running towards the door and running in behind the others.

The group was quick to run down to the basement and everyone began to shove each other through the portal until they had all fallen through and hit the floor. It was as soon as Eleven came flying through the portal as the last person that they all began to scream, "Close it! Close the gate!"

Everyone's panicked screams was all that could be heard as Eleven held up a hand and began to close the gate. An ear piercing scream escaped her lips as they all watched the gate close before them as if someone was stitching it together piece by piece.

It was when the final piece seemed to stitch tighter, officially sealing off the Upside Down from the real world that the group all felt back in relief, everyone collapsing to the ground.

Eddie was the first to notice Mike was there and he let out a chuckle before saying, "Mikey." Mike grinned back at the boy and the two embraced before the other Losers quickly went over to their friend as well, hugging the boy and jokingly threatening him to never do that shit again.

When Bill had finished hugging Mike, he smiled before turning to look at Y/N. However, he froze when he couldn't find her.

"Y/N?" he called out, the confusion in his voice making everyone freeze before they looked around as well.

Yet Y/N was no where to be seen.

Bill felt his heart start beating faster, a feeling of utter panic washing over him as he realized something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

"W-W-Where's Y/N?" Bill asked, his eyes flickering around the group in a panic before he stopped on Eleven who he knew had been partners with her.

Eleven paled as she looked around the group. "She was. . .she was. . ." Eleven couldn't even finish the sentence as a feeling of guilt and dread washed over her.

"She was right there with us," Mike elaborated, his voice just above a whisper.

"Did no one see if she got through?" Will asked, his eyes wide as he felt himself begin to panic. He knew what it was like to be trapped inside the Upside Down and if Y/N was trapped. . .

A hand slamming onto the portal was enough to answer the group's questions and they all turned to see two hands banging on the other side of the closed portal. "Guys!" Y/N yelled.

"Guys! No! Please!" Y/N cried out as she banged on the portal, panic settling in her bones.

"Y/N!" Bill yelled out as he ran to the sealed portal, his hands banging against the portal too before he began to try and claw at it with his fingers.

"Bill! Bill! Help me, Bill! Please!" Y/N cried, the sound of her sobs being enough to make his heart rate spike as he realized he had to do anything and everything to get the girl out of there.

"Y/N!" he cried out before he looked to Eleven in a panic. "G-G-Get her out of there! G-G-Get her out!" He probably looked like a freak yelling at Eleven like that with a red face and tears filling his eyes, but he didn't care. The girl he was pretty much in love with was trapped on the other side of the portal with It and the whole Upside Down.

Eleven held her hand up and tried her best to open the gate, but nothing seemed to be working. She screamed as she tried her hardest, but blood was spilling from her nose and before she knew it, she was falling backwards and Wheeler had to catch her. Eleven hadn't quiet passed out yet, but she was so weak she couldn't do anything else and the realization made her start crying.

Bill realized what was happening and picked up one of the axes they had been using as a weapon. He began to hack at the portal, but all the axe seemed to do was bounce off of the thing until it got to the point where Bill was hitting the portal so hard that the axe broke.

"They're coming!" Y/N suddenly cried out as she tried to claw her way out of the Upside Down, but it was no use. "They're coming! Guys! Please!" She was full on sobbing by now, her words coming out in hiccups due to how frightened she was.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Steve muttered as he ran forward and used his own weapon to try and get through the portal. The others, all except Eleven, were quick to join in as they all beat at the portal only for there not to even be a dent or scratch to be seen.

"Y/N! H-H-Hang in there! We're g-g-going to get you out!" Bill yelled back. "We're g-g-going to-"

His own yells got cut off when Y/N was suddenly ripped away from the portal, a blood curdling scream filling the air as she suddenly disappeared.

"Y/N!" everyone yelled, but her scream disappeared and she never returned back to the portal.

A silence filled the air after that and it was like each of them could feel the silence in their own body. Everyone was pale, their bodies shaking as they tried to fathom what us just happened.

Bill seemed to be the worst out of them all and he stumbled slightly pass everyone until he stopped by the wooden chair that had his jacket still lying there waiting for the girl. The boy stared at it with tears in his eyes before gently picking up the jacket and holding it close to his body.

A sob left his mouth and everyone's eyes turned to him, their own emotions finally breaking through at the sound of Bill's cries.

Bill fell to his knees, his hands clinging onto the jacket so tight that his knuckles were white. He was sobbing, his whole body shaking with each sob that one could just tell how much this situation hurt him. They could just tell how much Y/N meant to him.

It was in that moment, where Bill cried out for the girl he was desperately in love with and the girl who was best friends with every single person in that room. . .it was that moment that each of them slowly began to break down, Steve being the first one after Bill and going over and hugging the boy as he cried out for the girl who was his little sister. It was in that moment that they fully realized what had just happened.

Y/N L/N was stuck in the Upside Down and something or someone had gotten to her before they could.

* * *

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