#sorry if i didn’t tag you and you wanted to be tagged i never know who to bother | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godmadeaterribleerror · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 21 - If You Want To Survive

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: This week on Babylon - long distance relationships!

Chapter Title from Dog Days by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 18.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You run, and Dean waits. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 20 - Chapter 22

Read on A03!

“You’re doing it wrong.”

You know you’re doing it wrong. Your feet are dangling off the edge of the bench, and your fingers are still a little swollen from when you slammed them into the door, and you’re trying but you don’t know how to do it right-

“Hey. Breathe.” Rufus grunts your name, prying your hand from the strings of the guitar. “Nothin’ bad about to kill us right now. This ain’t life and death, it’s a fuckin’ guitar-“

He cuts himself off, scanning over your open face with a long sigh.

“Don’t tell Bobby I swore at ya. He’s been reading a bunch of parenting books. They’re all sayin’ swearing is bad for kids.”

“I’m not a kid-“

“Yeah, you are. Or at least he’s tryin’ to let you be.”

“That’s why he won’t let me do hunts, isn’t it.”

Rufus snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not allowed to hunts cause no kid should be doin’ hunts.”

“What about the boys staying at home?” You raise your chin, narrowing your eyes. “John’s sons. The older one hunts. I heard Bobby complaining to you about it.”

“You eavesdroppin’ on us now?”

“I- No-“ You get a pointed look, and bow your head to frown at your feet.

You’d liked these socks. They were fuzzy and covered in little rainbows, and you’d always kept them at Rufus’ because they made you feel better. You show up at his doorstep covered in a bit of dirt, with everything prying apart in your body and something dark in your body trying to seep out of your skin into the world, but it’ll be okay. Rufus will help you inside and make you some food, you’ll get a long bath, as much chocolate as you want, and your fuzzy socks.

But it doesn’t stop hurting.

It’s never fucking stopped hurting.

“I- I was.” You swallow, grinding your fingers further into the strings of the guitar. “I’m sorry.”

Rufus only laughs. “I don’t give fu- crap. Good you got away with it, too. Doin’ better than a lot of other hunters already.”

Your eyes widen. “Other-“

“Your family is hunters. You’ve got hunter in your blood.” Rufus sighs, running a hand over his face. “If we get say in it, you’re not gonna need to hunt. But Bobby don’t listen when I tell him that might not be his choice. But-“ Rufus’ voice turns firm, his eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t try nothin’ when you still can’t touch the fu- freakin’ ground.”

He bumps your feet with a small grin, and you return it, even if it’s toothless and nervous.

And you don’t have hunter in your blood. Rufus knows that you don’t have anything but insanity in your blood. But he’s never treated you like you’re anything less than Bobby’s daughter.

You wish you were. That you’d come from him rather than the darker, twisted horror you were born into, with too clean floors, never enough food—despite the sheets being silk and the floor being marble, you’d never had enough food—and no fuzzy socks.

Still, you didn’t know how to just wait. How to just sit in the fucking pain like it had to be a given—it might be—and wait for your feet to hit the ground. You don’t think they understand how much it hurts. And how if it doesn’t hurt, you’ll make everything else hurt instead. How you can’t be trusted anywhere, and you might not deserve this kindness, and you still have nightmares about big and smooth hands wrapping around your throat and telling you it’s time.

“John Winchester’s sons have hunting blood.” You mumble, glaring back to the carpet, and Rufus sighs, giving you an almost amused look.

“You ain’t droppin’ this, are you?”

“It’s not fair-“

“Nothin’ is fair. And those boys shouldn’t be huntin’ at all.”

“But they do-“

“Only when their Daddy’s got no one better.” Rufus mutters, and you frown at him. “John drops ‘em with Bobby when he’s not looking for company on a hunt. And if he is, he takes Dean like the boy ain’t thirteen.”

Dean. The big one is named Dean.

And somewhere through the swirling fog of the world, there’s an iridescent light that whining and howling and aching. It’s hurts almost as much as the Darkness does.

Did.

You’re a little dizzy, and you know that when this happened, Dean was nothing more than a name. You think he was nothing more than a name. You might have felt the White rolling and humming for him, even then.

“I’m not that much younger-“

“That ain’t the point-“

“And John takes both of them hunting all the time! And I’d know more! I have all the lore memorized, and I- I could fight-“

“You can’t shoot.”

“I could try-“

“No, ya couldn’t. I remember when you just saw Bobby’s gun, kid.”

“But I’d get over it- And if the Winchester’s can do it-“

“It don’t matter what those boys can do. You’re not like ‘em.” Rufus mutters your name, the look on his face almost sad. “And John- You know Bobby don’t want you near him for a reason. And I agree. Even if we were pro baby-hunters, you know you can’t be out there.”

“But- I- I can’t- I don’t-“ You take a shaking breath, the dark thing starts to twist around in your body, all your skin itching with the pain of keeping it down. “It hurts-“

“I know it hurts.” Rufus sighs, guiding your fingers back to the guitar strings. “That’s why we’re doin’ this.”

You shake your head, trying to curl back into your body. “I don’t wanna-“

Rufus grunts your name, giving you a firm look. “We keep doin’ this, or I tell Bobby ‘bout the door.”

You’d swallow, your eyes wide on his and he lets out a long sigh.

“There are ways to deal with it that don’t hurt, kid. I’m just tryin’ to find you some.”

“Ways like drinking?” You wrinkle your nose at him, and Rufus lets out a dry chuckle.

“Nah. I’m not a preacher, I don’t gotta practice what I’m sellin’. Go back to g-cord.”

You shift your fingers, but pause, staring ahead as the light turns in your body.

It still hurts. Everything always hurts, and you feel small, and you’re safe here but it still feel like you’re being ripped in half. And you love staying at Rufus’, but it hurts, and it doesn’t matter that if you go back home you might get more hurt. You’re already hurting, and you- You don’t know what to do with all this fucking pain-

“I wanna go home.” You whisper, your eyes starting to sting, and Rufus only sighs.

He’s used to the swings. To the way it becomes too much, and you grow small.

You wish you could control it. Be better. Be more than a sick fucking problem, but it’s all you are. All you’ve ever been. And you want to go home.

“I know,” Rufus mutters, squeezing your shoulder carefully. “But you can’t, kid. Not until it’s safe.”

The world starts to shift, the fog around you glowing and bathing everything in a softer light, and your feet can touch the ground again.

When this had happened, Rufus meant safe for you. That you could go home when it wouldn’t end with John Winchester putting a bullet through your brain.

Now John was long dead, and you-

You were still so fucking sick. There wasn’t hunter in your blood, there was power. Power and a long, long line of horrible, wrong creatures that even Heaven hated. You may be holy, but it might be the way the plagues of Egypt were holy. Wrathful and awful and vengeful. Sick and destructive and wrong.

You’re so fucking wrong, so home isn’t safe from you.

Nothing is safe from you, and the horror you bring.

And you want your feet to go back to being too small. To having little blisters on your fingers from holding the guitar, instead of whatever put them there now. You’d only read books because it passed the time, and you didn’t think twice about the notes you were writing, and home was somewhere you could return to.

You want to go home.

To return to not knowing that John would’ve been right. Being afraid of him was always so much easier than being afraid of yourself. It would be so nice to go back to this. It was lonely but simple. You were filled with sickness, but it poisoned only yourself.

But Rufus would’ve always said Dean, and you would’ve always felt the White howl.

You miss him most of all.

“Where are we?”

You sigh, dropping your head to the side on his shoulder. It’s always a little like you summon him, and then he’s there. Warm and Golden and almost real.

Almost.

“I’m learning how to play guitar.” You mumble, strumming a smooth key that comes out twangy and weak, because that’s how it had sounded when this actually happened.

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Wow. You’re kind of shit at it.”

“That’s the learning part, Deano.” You twist to prop your chin on his shoulder, and his grin is wide. Strong. Happy. “Hi.”

His grin grows, a hand rising up to hold your face. “Hi, Princess. You look good.”

“You always say I look good.”

“Well that’s cause I’m not a liar, sweetheart.”

You snort. “Shut up.”

“So bossy,” he hums, tracing his thumb over your cheekbones, and everything but Dean is fading into the background. Even your memory of Rufus is being painted in Gold. Just to remind you.

Dean isn’t here. Not really. But you still love him. And it’s still all the way down.

“How do I look?”

You scan over his face, with heavy bags until his eyes and a slightly swollen cheek.

When you reach up to trace a hand over it, he doesn’t flinch. Dean just lets out a soft sigh, and leans into your touch.

“Tired, De.” You whisper, and he chuckles.

“Haven’t been sleeping good. Fighting with Sammy again.” He pauses, his voice growing a little hoarse. “Miss you. Wish Cas would tell me where he dropped you, so I could come carry you home.”

“I know. I- I do too.”

And you do.

Because if Dean tracked you down and tried to carry you home, you’d never fight it. You’d always just go, because you love him, and it’s not indulging or making it about you if Dean’s demanding it.

“I miss you.” You mumble, and everything is starting to wash away. Leaking with a light that hurts to look at, the bench and Rufus flickering in and out like a mirage on water.

There’s a loud, blaring sound, coming from far, far away, and you have to go.

Dean must know it too, because his grip tightens. “Come home. I- So much shit is happening and it’s all freakin’ insane, and you’d know what to do. You always know and I fuckin’ miss you, baby, please come ho-“

The alarm rips through the world, crashing through everything you can see, and Dean vanishes.

You shoot up in your bed and let out a loud groan. The frame is so fucking small, and your legs are cramping, and the sound is still fucking going-

“Fuck.”

Your mumble is mostly to yourself.

There’s no one else to hear it anyway.

The month since you left hasn’t exactly been spent making friends. It’s been research and moving and finding ways to keep yourself afloat.

Cas had dropped you in Rome, and apparently didn’t stop to consider that you don’t fucking speak Italian. It had helped that most people here spoke English, but after about a week you’d gotten sick of not being able to read anything, and gotten—technically stolen, with Dean’s voice in your head humming I thought you weren’t a criminal, Princess—an Italian for Beginners book.

It’s mostly been tourist phrases. Where is the bathroom. How do you say taxi. I do not speak Italian.

You’ve used that last one liberally.

And you don’t talk that much, all together. There seems to be a drastic shortage of monsters to hunt and a beautiful plenty of books to read, so you’ve focus all your energy there.

On looking for answers.

About anything. Lilith. The seals. Heaven. The Magdalenes. Witches.

You.

Everything you learn about yourself is something you had to teach. You can’t feel anything holy, but you can’t really feel a lot right now. It’s all just a lot of fucking pain. And as you force yourself out of bed for the day, your gaze falls to your hands, and you can still see it.

Pastel blue. Glistening and crystallized on your fingers. The Gold has faded slightly, but the Blue is still clinging to you. Whenever you wash your hands, you’re afraid it’s going to run away with the water. When you wake up, there’s a dread in the pit of your stomach that you’ll glance down, it will fall off like an icicle from a roof. Maybe it will have been wiped away in your sleep, stained on the sheets, never to be returned.

And then it’s there, and the dread shifts to just more fucking pain. Your eyes sting, and you freeze on the edge of the bed as you stare at it. The last bit of Jo, bled onto you when she-

Bile rises in your throat, and you swallow it back down.

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be sad when you did this to her. Made Jo nothing more than a little bit of a mark on your fingers that no one else can see. Ellen didn’t get a little bit of Jo to carry all the time.

Ellen didn’t even get to be there when it happened.

Jo wants you to tell Ellen something. And you’d cut her off, because you’re a fucking parasite, and you’d been so sure you could fix it. You would’ve done anything to fix it, but the Sky wouldn’t let you, and now she was gone-

A weak, sniffling noise escapes your throat, and this time there’s no bile. It’s only a heavy, crushing weight around your skull, and a searing feeling as your nails dig into your skin.

You need to move.

Most mornings, it takes too long to remember how.

And it’s never anything spurring you into action. You’re numb and hollow and breathing only because you have to, and then it all settles down and you move.

It’s mechanical. Sleep shirt off and in the backpack. Top. Bottoms. Socks and shoes and jacket. Your knife, spin it once in your hands just to move, then tuck it against your body.

Go.

You have to move and go, because you promised you’d be okay, and turning to stone is no way to be okay.

You don’t remember how to be okay either.

But you’ll get through it.

You always do.

You’d had to leave the city within a few days. There were too many people, too many colors, all of it bleeding together like a kaleidoscope or supernova and making you dizzy. Too many not-smells, giving you a migraine. The countryside was better. Quieter. Sometimes there was golden light reflecting in the rivers, and you got to pretend you could grab it and keep it.

And there are less people to hurt, if something goes wrong.

Because something always goes wrong.

Even when your day is just reading and scratching notes in the corner of a library, something will find a way to go wrong.

Maybe that’s part of the Magdalene curse. Maybe angels and demons can’t kill you, but the world just shifts and rots around you from your presence. You are made of the same thing as Lilith, and she made things as wrong as they could possibly be. Maybe this ends with you either destroying the world, or imploding onto yourself.

You’re closer to the second. You’re tired, and your teeth hurt, and every shadow is longer than you thought possible. The pencil is heavier than it should be in your hand, and you can’t tell if there’s something in the air or if your lungs simply can’t figure out how to breathe anything but iron. Your skin feels wrong on your body, but you can’t remove it or that final bit of Jo in the world will vanish.

You miss Dean. You miss him all the time. There’s no one here to hold you until you sleep, no one to calm you down when the souls start to swarm around you, and it’s like you’re being drowned. Nobody is making you drink water or eat through the grief, and some days you’ve just been forgetting until you stand up and almost fall over.

Then you have to steady yourself, but no one is as good at steadying you as Dean is.

You love him. And every time you wake up from a dream—just like this morning—you could swear you could fucking smell him. On the air around you, stronger than the cotton and dry wood of your room. You’ve stopped wearing perfume, so that it can linger on the edge of the air through the day.

But you’ve stopped doing a lot of things.

It’s why, when something goes wrong, nothing riots in your body to warn you. The most you get is a faint tug from the right of your chest, and then it’s too late.

“Look at what we have here.” A taunting, male voice crows over your shoulder, and your blood goes cold.

You don’t have to turn to know that it’s something evil. You can hear it in the drawl of his words. Fucking smell it, metallic and rotten on the air, like blood and-

Sulfur.

Fuck-

Two hands close over your shoulders, pinning you down to the chair, and a cold breath fans over your neck.

“Took me so long to find you. Don’t move an inch, darling. We’re just here to have a conversation, and I might not be able to kill ya’, but I don’t think you can kill me either, can you.” The demon laughs. “I think you might be havin’ some performance issues.”

You swallow, trying to force your voice to stay even. “Would you want to bet on that?”

The demon laughs. “Why don’t we find out? I’ve been dyin’ to get my hands on you, princess.”

There’s a prickling, burning, white-hot feeling on wrong over your heart.

Only Dean calls you that. Only Dean is allowed to call you that, because he says it with a teasing voice, but there’s always something under it that makes your body relax and the Spiderweb glow. It’s made of something soft and a little intoxicating. He says it as if he believes it. As if it’s not just a joking nickname that stuck, but a title.

The demon says it like he knows how wrong it is. Like he’s slicing you open and driving a poker right into the Spiderweb, then laughing as it whines for something you both know it can’t have. Dean’s across the ocean, and you’re not a princess. Dean might look at you and see more than a monster, but the demon isn’t fooled.

He knows what you are.

Like him.

Worse than him.

Demons are turned from years of torture. Demons are evil, but at least they were once human.

You’ve never been anything but sick. You were born twisted. And you’d never asked Cas if Lilith’s daughters were born before or after she became a demon.

You don’t really want to find out.

“Calm down, sweetheart. Can fuckin’ taste your fear.” The demon sneer in your ear. “And there’s no need to get hysterical. You get to be special again. For once, I ain’t here looking for that delicious panic and pain.”

You don’t want to be special. You just want to go home.

You just want Dean.

“What- Why are you-“

“I just thought I’d come see what all the fuss is about.” The demon hums, rising back up. “I’ve heard so much about you. And darlin’, the stories aren’t doing you justice.”

The demon rounds the table, and your nails dig into the scar on your palm.

He’s like Lilith.

A little darker of a gray, but smooth. Refined. Nothing bursting out of where he wants it to be, and he’s fucking hideous and hateful and wearing it like a badge. Every shift of him is like a raised chin and a sneer.

You recognize him. You can’t place how, but you do.

“Dean needs to get better at tellin’ stories.” The demon hums, and even his vessel is twisted in a horrible, crude smirk. “Even all his fawnin’ and whinin’ didn’t manage to capture just how perfect you are.”

It’s so fucking wrong. In a way worse than Lilith, every fiber of your existence knows this demon is fucking wrong. And the Spiderweb hates him. It’s crawling and twisting in your body like it’s trying to fucking hide, stinging and whining as if just the demon’s presence makes it feel sick.

And he’d said Dean.

He knows Dean.

You do know him.

The pieces snap together in a second, and you’re moving the next. Grabbing your knife out of your jacket and flying across the table, driving the blade right into the Alistair’s chest.

Nothing happens. Alistair just laughs, pulling the knife out of his chest and examining it with a smirk.

“This that knife Dean got you, isn’t it.” Alistair raises his brows at you, and sighs when you only glare at him. “I’m tryin’ to have a conversation with you, you know-“

“I don’t want to have a conversation with you.” Your words are spat, and Alistair just rolls his eyes.

“There’s those dramatics I’ve heard about you havin’. Always so emotional,” he hums your name, sliding the knife back across the table. “I was building up to a compliment, sweetheart. Dean had good taste. I can feel a lot of anger and fear on that thing.”

The bile is back. It’s spilling into your voice. “What the fuck are you here for. I’ve stopped interfering-“

Alistair scoffs. “I don’t care about that. I woulda preferred you stick around, but Lilith said it wouldn’t work out in our favor if ya did. Shame. I was really lookin’ forward to killing Dean in front of you, then seeing what type of pain you’re really capable of causin’.”

“I-“ There’s something tight and horrible around your throat. “I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are.” Alistair smirks, scanning you over once more. “You want to know Dean’s worst nightmare?”

You really don’t. You’re only clinging to your knife like maybe it will summon Dean to your side, trying to wait Alistair out.

The only other option is stirring deep, deep in your body. Starting to pick up and roll around. Shining bright enough to split through that gaping, infinite void of too much and nothing at all that seems to follow you with death.

And you can’t use the other option. So you just have to fucking hold on, and last through this new, awful thing.

“That boy has always been a little more creative than is good for him.” Alistair smiles, almost fondly, and you want to punch out his teeth. “Made him a beautiful subject, and a perfect student. But sometimes he’d get cold feet. All sad and whiny ‘bout hurtin’ people. But all I’d have to do is show him that nightmare of his. Dragged it from his head after about a year, and- Well, why don’t we just look together. Brace yourself, sweetheart. It’s a good one.”

Alistair reaches up, and before you can stop him, his hand is pressed to your brow.

You’re back in Hell. The screams and heat and colors running below your feet.

Not your feet.

Lower than your feet.

You’re suspend, on the same rack that you’ve seen before. And Dean’s right there. Golden, but tattered and mauled and frozen. Just staring at you, as something gray and horrible runs over your body, and you want to scream but you can’t breathe, and Dean’s still not moving.

The Gold is rioting, but Dean’s not moving.

Alistair laughs in your ear, and the Gold seems to be trying to press out, to get to you, but then it hits an invisible barrier, and Dean doesn’t move.

You don’t think he can.

When the library comes back into focus, you’re panting. Every breath is too fast and short, your grip on the table driving splinters into your hands, and you can’t fucking breathe-

“Warned you.” Alistair hums, and his voice is driving right into your fucking brain.

All you can see is Dean. Frozen, watching you with fear.

Dean was never afraid. He was angry and worried and stressed, but you’d never seen him look only afraid.

The Spiderweb is almost whimpering, shimmering with a soft light and still trying to bury itself deeper than Alistair can hurt it.

But the Silver-

It’s starting to move. To wake up.

Fuck.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, darlin’. That little nightmare? It always was fun to feed, but it’s never gonna be the plan. I’m thinking, when we win and I get to take you home, we’ll find wherever the reapers stored sweet little Jo, and pull her out. To join the party, you know?”

The Silver rears its head. And you’re drawing blood on your skin, but your nails are short and chipped, and you still can’t really breathe-

“And then I’ll give Dean a choice. He can either torture Jo while you watch, or I’ll make his nightmare come true.” Alistair laughs to himself, and the Silver is starting to climb up.

Or curve in. Building up by caving in. Like a fucking black hole, crushing down so it can-

“And he’ll choose you. He’ll hate himself for it, but you’re his girl. His Princess. He ain’t gonna do anythin’ that’ll hurt you. Not on purpose.”

The Silver is so close. But there are people here. People and animals, and a- You saw a fucking teenager, and she had a walk that kind of reminded you of Sam’s-

“But here’s the kicker,” Alistair says your name like you’re old friends. “After he finished chopping up Jo, I’d freeze him just like in his nightmare. And I wouldn’t touch you. That’s boring. If I’m makin’ art like this, I’m making it the right way.”

It’s going to fall out of your mouth. You can’t fucking control it, and all the Silver can feel is the pain of the Spiderweb, so all it knows is something’s wrong and you can’t stop it-

“No, here’s what I’ve got lined up instead. Good ol’ Sammy will be walkin’ around up here, well,” Alistair laughs. “His body will be. But point is, can’t use him. And I think what I’m left with will work better anyway.” Alistair’s smoke moves back into that ugly fucking smile, and the Silver reaches a stasis. A silence.

A split second before the storm.

“I’ll drag good ol’ Daddy Winchester out to play. Let him do whatever he wants, while Dean’s watchin’. And maybe it’ll just be what Dean did to Jo, but you never know.” Alistair smirks. “Those men of god never could resist a Magdalene.”

Everything stills. Moves to match the stasis of the Silver, and it’s almost serene. You’re everything, and it’s all waiting for you. The walls will fall to shield you. The wind will turn to a hurricane to protect you. The grass outside will grow and flourish to protect you.

And the Sky is smiling at you. You can feel it, and not just watching.

Over you. Shining with praise, because this, this is that holy wrath you’re supposed to have all the time.

You don’t fucking want it.

You just want to go home.

Alistair smiles at you again, a second before you lose control.

“There you are.”

You don’t know how he gets away in time. You can’t tell through how you’re everything, and you can’t see anything but the blur.

All you know is that you explode.

Detonate.

Destroy.

The Silver razes through all it can reach.The building turns to ruin, rivers of blood run under your feet—although, as far as you can see, there are no bodies—and the forests and walls start to bloom with flowers and plants you’ve never seen before.

They’re beautiful. Strangely shaped and delicate, glowing softly and filled with an iridescent light.

But it’s all beautiful.

The apples hanging from the ceiling are beautiful. The small, condensed bits of life floating through the room are beautiful. The countryside, now littered with pastel blue roses, is beautiful.

And the souls stained on the walls are beautiful, too.

And you have to go.

The angels will be here soon.

That must be the real reason Alistair was looking for you. He’d taunted you right to the fucking edge, then pushed you over. Forced you to lose control, and send up that loud, neon signal telling Heaven I’m here! Come and get me!

And you’ve been so fucking careful not to draw attention, but it’s not really up to you anymore.

Because the Silver’s been like this since Jo. Dormant and silent until it’s forced to move, and then reactionary. Worse than a live wire, worse than a sickness, worse than a monster.

Damnation.

That must be why the angels are still after you, even though you did what they asked. Even though you left.

Zachariah had said to muzzle you.

And you weren’t muzzled.

You were feral.

And now you have to run again.

But you don’t want to be the sickness. You don��t want to be what the Sky keeps demanding of you. Blinking down over you and asking doesn’t it feel good, to have this kind of might in your body, to not be burdened by things lower than you are?

Nothing is lower than you are. They might not be talking to the Sky, but it’s lonely. Higher than anything else, but that seems to be more of a curse than a gift. And all the things it keeps telling you are lower are made of more than the Sky is. Every soul spilled on the ground around you is a little dented and tainted, but it’s beautiful.

It’s all so beautiful.

You need to go. It’s not safe for you to stay.

But you do. For longer than you should allow, you grab every soul you can and shove it back into its body. And you can’t heal them. Can’t fix whatever damage the Silver has done, because you can’t call it forward to mend what it broke. They’ll be alive, but maybe different. Maybe completely morphed, maybe just a little cracked, maybe shattered beyond repair. But they’ll be alive. And even if you could fix them, the Sky might decide you were overstepping again, and rip them right back out.

It never stops you from cleaning, though. From finishing your little ritual. It shines in warning, but you flip it off.

“You’ve got something you want from me,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes. “Come and get it your fucking self.”

It doesn’t.

It just keeps watching.

So you run.

You don’t stop until dusk. Until you’re sure you’re far enough away that whatever angels Heaven sent won’t find you.

And this is how it is now. You move from town to town like some sort of phantom. You miss Dean every second, but you can’t go home. You dodge angels and read in the dead of night, staring at your phone and willing it to-

You jump out of your skin a little, when the screen lights up.

Possible Spam.

You’ve never picked up the phone faster.

Dean’s shouting your name through the speaker, when the call connects. There’s something strained in his voice. Almost distressed.

You raise your voice, just enough to get through to him. “De-“

“Oh, thank fucking- Son of a bitch, sweetheart, I- Are you good? Safe?”

“I’m fine.” You draw your knees up to your chest, trying to make your voice sound light. “It’s just- Long day-“

“I know about Alistair.”

You freeze, and Dean’s voice grows a little hoarse.

“He admitted it. Told me he’s seen you. It’s- We’re working one of the seals and he’s here, and I- He said-“

“He didn’t hurt me.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. “He was just taunting me. Trying to make me- You know. Do the thing.”

Dean’s silent for a long, heavy second. “Happened again, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Any progress on-“

“No.”

Dean lets out a dry laugh. “You didn’t even let me finish talking.”

“I-“ You swallow, a heavy lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m sorry-“

“Hey, wait, don’t- I’m teasing you, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice is so gentle. You can almost see the slightly panicked look on his face. “Don’t cry, it’s okay, you’re good-“

You’d been trying not to cry.

You really had.

But you miss him. And you’re so fucking tired.

It’s impossible to swallow the choked sounds or whimpers. The sniffling as you wipe your nose with your sleeve, or the heavy breathing as a weight pressed onto your chest. You don’t want Dean to hear. You know he’s still dealing with the seals, and an angry Bobby—although Dean won’t admit they’re fighting about you, you know they are—and a Sam that’s still working with Ruby. He doesn’t need to hear you cry when you’re the one who fucking left. You’re the one who wouldn’t stay.

You’d hated Dean so long for leaving you, so many years ago.

But then you fucking left him.

And he’s staying on the phone with you. Not speaking, but humming low and deep as your head drops to your knees, and your breathing evens out.

It’s steady.

Ragged and impossible, but steady.

“De- I-“ You swallow, wiping your cheeks with your palm. “I wanna go home. I miss Bobby and Sam and I- I don’t know what to do. I miss you, and I can’t sleep, and I-“

I love you.

You’re not allowed to say it.

So you just strangle yourself on the sound, and hold the phone as close to your ear as you can.

“I know.” Dean’s voice is a rasp through the speaker, and it makes a new wave of tears fall. “Just come home, Princess- I- Fuck, I’ll call Cas and he’ll come get you right now-“

“I can’t.” You whisper. “You know I can’t.”

“But-“

“Please. Don’t.”

Dean can’t beg you to come home.

If he does, just as always, you’d listen.

“Did-“ Dean clears his throat, and you’re grateful. He listened. “What did Alistair say to you? To set it off?”

You can’t tell Dean what Alistair really said. He’d drive himself mad about it. Doing something reckless, get himself hurt. And all of this is always just so Dean doesn’t get hurt.

But you can’t lie to him either.

“Jo.” You mumble, leaning back and rubbing at your wrists. “You. Sam. Just- What he’d do, if they win.”

“Fucking bastard.” Dean mutters, and you smile into the air.

You miss his glare. The firm one that he’s always aim at you, but never hurt you. It was always a glare that wrapped around you. Told you he was angry because he cared, and didn’t know how to do anything with it.

He still cares.

Dean knows what the past month has been for you. Nightmares and explosions, souls staining the ground and painted over your hands—although they always fade fast, as nothing but Jo seems to be clinging to you longer than it has to—and never getting more control or answers.

You only find more questions. More reasons to stay away. And Dean should give up on you, but that’s not what he does. You know how pissed he is at Sam, but he’s not giving up on dragging him away from Ruby. He wouldn’t.

Just like how he’s only ever held you when everything became too much. Only ever gone to help, whenever Sammy called. Had held you and tried to make you stay, after Jo.

And he still picks up the phone. Still calls you, even when you know that—wherever he is in America—it’s an unreasonable hour. Talks to you like nothing has ever gone wrong at all. Asks you to come home like it’s not ripping out and healing your heart all at once.

“You know I’d never let that happen, right?”

You blink, frowning at the wall. “What?”

“Alistair.” Dean mutters. “No matter what happens. He’s never gonna touch you.”

I’ll drag good ol’ Daddy Winchester out to play.

You know. You know I love you, baby.

“I know.” You whisper, even though you both know that’s not really up to Dean. “How was your day?”

“Kinda shit. You?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Kinda shit, too.”

“You could come home, and our days could be shit together-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. Had to try.”

He did. He always does. And he’s nothing more than a voice in a box, but the Spiderweb still lights up under his attention. Still thrives from just to sound of Dean saying your name and telling you about astral projection, and you could fucking swear you smell spice-

“It felt fuckin’ weird,” Dean mutters your name, and you can hear something moving in the background. “I was solid, but it was soupy.”

You smile into the air. “Soupy?”

“Yeah, like chowder-“

“Those are two different feelings, De.”

“No they’re both globby.”

“Globby-“

“It works- Sammy!”

You hear Sam’s voice grumble something in the background, and wait patiently.

“Being all ghost-like felt globby, right?”

“You sound insane, Dean.”

That breaks through, and you giggle.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice is a little firmer. He’s talking to you. “I heard that. It’s not my fault Sammy isn’t a poet like me-“

Sam snorts in the background. “I heard you say soupy before. Are you talking to-“

“Yes.” Dean snaps. “She’s mine, Sammy. You can’t have her.”

He means the phone. You know he means the phone.

It still makes the Spiderweb fucking shine.

“I just wanna ask her about a seal-“

“Call her later.”

“But-“

“No. Back off, or I’ll shit on your bed.”

“That’s so gross- Dean-“

A door slams on Dean’s end, and Sam’s voice goes muffled.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Don’t know who let Bigfoot into my hotel room like that.”

You hum, smiling like an idiot at your knees. “You know, one day he’s really gonna get sick of you doing that. It’s the third time this week.”

“Nah.” There’s a pause. “Are you getting sick of me, Princess?”

Sam’s right. He’s insane. “No.”

“You sure? Not finding some other guy with a sweet ride-“

“I’m not looking, De.” You whisper before you can stop yourself. “And nobody’s got a better ride than you, car boy.”

"Thanks.” Dean mumbles, clearing his throat. “I’m taking care of the Firebird. Drive her once a week-“

“He.”

"What?”

“My car. It’s a he.”

Dean pauses. “You, uh- You named him?”

“Not yet.” You shrug. “I’m brainstorming.”

“How about Dean Junior-“

“No.”

You only get a laugh in response, and this night doesn’t hurt as much as the others. You talk to Dean until the sun rises, and he mutters that his phone is about to die, and Sam will kill him if they’re not on the road early tomorrow. You don’t say goodbye, when you hang up. You never say goodbye.

Instead the line goes dead, you shuffle out to find coffee, and return to your room for the rest of the day. You’re in no rush. You’re safe—for now—and all your work lives in reading and researching. Going over the emails Sam has sent you and responding with what you find. Combing through your own books for some sort of fucking clue. How many other Magdalenes there were. What they brought. How they controlled it, if it was something that could be controlled. So far all you have are a big do not attempt warnings on burnt pages, a bunch of fake Magdalene spells—like plastic knockoffs of what you’ve found in the book, and made yourself—and the Sky watching you.

Nothing ever mentions the Sky. And it’s not like you’ve found anything explicit about Magdalenes. But you’ve learned to spot patterns. Clues. Draw timelines and pour over history books until you passed out, Dean called you, or something went wrong.

It would be lovely and simple, if you’d taught yourself that.

But it isn’t. And you didn’t.

“I heard you killed an angel.”

You’d spun around, and there she’d been. Standing in the corner of your room, smiling at you with that awful affection.

“That’s impressive, little one.” Lilith had hummed, her smiling growing. “Even I could never have done that, even at my brightest.”

“Cool.” You’d mumbled, rubbing at your wrists as you watched her. “How did you find me?”

“We are the same.” Lilith had shrugged. “You might be more, and but I can still know. You’d know too, if you just thought about it. And it took a little extra effort to find you, but I had to. You put on quite a show, almost locking all the seals. If those fucking uptight featherdicks hadn’t interfered, you might have succeeded. I mean, maybe if I’d sent the cavalry, too. But Ruby was begging me not to send Alistair himself. You did quite a number on her.”

“Ruby-“

“That’s not for you to worry about.” Lilith had waved you off like it was nothing. “I’d be concerned with yourself, little one. The angels are starting to look for their master, and mine- He will be here soon. And you should be ready. And I am reaching my purpose, but I can’t wait to learn, one day, what you do”

“I-“ You’d shaken your head, walking back to the wall. The Sky had flashed out the window.

If Lilith could see or feel it, she didn’t show it.

“I don’t- I’m not going to serve-“

“No, you won’t.” Lilith had hummed. “If you’re smart, they will bow at your feet for all of time to come, and you will never be a toy to those vile fucking animals again-“

“I-“ Your voice had been so small. You’d pushed through. “I’m not a toy-“

“Not now, little one. But you’re still attached to Dean Winchester. I can see him all over you.” She’d shivered. “You’ll get through it. We all have. Even I had a Dean, but- It doesn’t matter. Men of God. Doesn’t matter which one you chose, they are all the same in the end.”

And there it is again. Your hand freezes over your notes—a mindless scribble of Dean’s name in Enochian half-written—as the memory echoes, and you put it together.

Men of God.

Alistair had said it. So had Anna, before you crushed her like some sort of bug.

And Anna had been an angel. She knew enough to know your name was written in places in Heaven that Castiel has never seen.

Lilith had spoken of them like they were everywhere. She’s said that all of you had one. That yours was another case of being special—more complicated—but you still needed to be stronger. That they always promise freedom, only to try and cut you up and morph you and put you in a cage.

Dean would never do that. He’d set you free.

He was waiting for you.

You’d worry about that later. Right now, for the first time since you left, you had something.

It’s a good thing Europe is full of churches.

The months start to blur together, the longer you’re away. You didn’t expect it to be immediate, but it has to be something. Lilith, Alistair, and Anna wouldn’t all say Men of God only for it to just be some kind of weird Heaven and Hell phase. It’ll only take time. And you’ll comb through every library and visit every church and do whatever the fuck you need for just one answer.

And it does seem to be a marker. Every Magdalene you’ve found—Lilith had been right, you’d just had to try, and it would call to you like some distorted song—has had someone in their orbit. And there has to be a reason. Even if no one can place what the Magdalenes are outside of danger and change, even if there’s no idea for how you were made or why you exist, it can’t just be a coincidence.

Dean says there are no coincidences in this life.

He’s usually right about this kind of stuff. He’s usually right about most stuff.

And whatever Men of God are, Dean isn’t one. Not the way Lilith says, at least. He’s yours, but the Magdalenes you’ve found always ended up betrayed or abandoned by theirs. Dean would never do that. Even if he doesn’t love you, he just wouldn’t. That’s another thing he doesn’t do.

Run away.

He’s stronger than you are. It’s why, whenever you run, he really has been always so good at catching you. At wrapping you up and keeping you safe, when he should’ve put you down.

And Lilith had said the one you chose.

Dean’s never been a choice. He just is. You love him because he’s Dean, and that’s better than anything. He’s never been just one star you picked from the sky.

He’s been full of gravity, like a planet. Not a flower from a garden, but a strong, unbreakable tree that could be split with lightning and still be the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. Not a rock from the ocean, but an island that you’d always returned to, because there’s nowhere better to rest.

And there are more differences—between you and the other Magdalenes—the longer you look. Some of them have been labelled as crazy or hysterical, but none of them are ever mentioned talking about all the colors. None of them ever claim to see demons and angels.

Not one mentions the Sky.

That seems to be another horrible, awful, exhausting thing that’s just for you.

And time keeps passing. You keep reading and reading and finding something that’s really nothing, and nothing that looks like something, but it’s just a trick of the light. Things keep going wrong—a woman grabs your wrist in a coffee shop, you walk into a church and the stained glass begins to glow, you see an angel on the street and wipe them out with the whole block—and the Sky keeps watching.

It doesn’t seem to mind you looking for answers. It almost seems to hum whenever you find something. A tattered page in a church catacomb, that’s a similar—but less detailed—to your own notebook. Colors and names scribbled in a French, like a personal guide. And then there’s the half-burnt, Portuguese version of the Book, and another Magdalene buried Florence, Italy.

You can go to Florence.

You can raid a grave, to see if her bones are made of anything that tells you how she controlled it. If she left you anything. She must have.

She did.

Maps of Heaven and Hell. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do with them, or how she got them, but you know the Sky is happy you have them.

Lately, the Sky only ever seems angry when Dean calls.

You always pick up anyway.

“Hi, De.”

“Hey, Princess. You still in-“

“Nope. Nice try, though.”

He sighs. “Had to take the shot. How was your day?”

You smile into the air. “It was… long.”

“Did you eat?”

You’re silent for a second too long, and Dean snaps your name.

“Goddamnit, you need to-“

“I know.” You sigh. “I just- I got distracted, I promise. I got a new book, and it’s just regular witchcraft, but maybe Cas could use it-“

“Actually, uh-“ Dean clears his throat. “We kinda lost Cas.”

“You- How?”

“He’s a human again. We’re working on it, but Sammy-“ Dean lets out a long, heavy breath, and you sigh.

“Is Ruby still-“

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell him-“

“He won’t listen.” Dean mutters. “Thinks you must have misunderstood, or that Lilith was just messing with you.”

“But-“

“I know, Princess. But- I- Can you talk? Please?”

You swallow, staring up at the ceiling. You’d told Dean, what Lilith had mentioned about Ruby begging her. You’d hoped it would be some sort of evidence, to prove to Sam that Ruby can’t be trusted.

But Dean says he went a little off the deep end, after you left. That he thinks he should’ve been stronger and not gotten knocked out, or been more cautious about the ritual, or done more so you didn’t lose Jo. So you didn’t leave.

Whenever you talk to him, he never mentions it. That you left. And it’s not in the way Dean does, where he just knows you’ll come back. It’s a little hollow. His voice sounds heavier all the time, but more determined all at once.

Dean just sounds tired.

And it rips the Spiderweb in half.

“What do you wanna talk about, De?”

He lets out what might be a long breath of relief. “I, uh- I don’t know. What did you do today?”

“Read. A lot. I started looking at a map-“

“A map?” You can hear Dean’s frown in his voice. It’s adorable. “What, you hunting for treasure without me?”

“It’s a map of heaven. And,” you smile into the air, and you hope he can hear it. “I’d never hunt for treasure without you. There is no one else I’d rather treasure hunt with.”

“Damn. Not even Bobby?”

“I don’t think Bobby would be all that good at treasure hunting.” You shrug. “He’d get bored, and say that this kinda shit is pointless anyway.”

“Yeah,” Dean’s soft laugh is a little muffled through the phone. “You’re right about that. How about Sammy?”

“He’d be fine. Do you not want to go treasure hunting with me, Deano?”

He snorts. “Princess, if I ever go treasure hunting with anyone, I’d want it to you.”

“Thanks.” You mumble. “Why?”

“Cause you’re smart, and you’ve seen a billion of those freakin’ treasure movies. You’ve studied, sweetheart. You’re a nerd.”

You scoff. “Well, if I ever need to commit crimes for the good of the community, I’ll call you, Cowboy.”

“Aw, you think I’m a Cowboy-“

“Dean-“

Dean cuts you off with a tsk, and suddenly you can see him. It’s just in your head, but it’s so close to real. Standing in front of you with a boyish, cocky smirk, his eyes alight on yours, every bit of him so fucking Golden, and all focused on you. Handsome. Always handsome. His hair a little spiky and out of place, his nose a little more crooked than the last time you saw him, but his body just as broad, and-

You can feel an ache between your legs, and it only deepens when he drawls your name.

Shit.

“I gotta tell you a secret, Princess.” Dean hums, and you swallow. “Our job is doing crimes for the good of the community. And you’re the best damn criminal I know.”

You flush, and the ache gets worse. “Shut up.”

“Bossy-“

“And I’m not a criminal-“

“Yeah, you are.” Dean laughs. “But it’s okay, we’re all criminals. You and me would’ve run the wild west, sweetheart, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your ditzy, slightly stupid smile is back. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah. Sammy would be the sheriff, and Bobby would run the bar, and I’d be the awesome, lone cowboy passing through the town. I’d stop at the bar look for a drink but instead I’d find you-“ Dean cuts himself off with a cough. “And Bobby. And instead of just passin’ through, I’d plant my roots, and team up with the sheriff to take care of the town.”

He might be the most adorable person on the planet. “You’ve thought about it. Sam might be right about that cowboy fetish, De-“

“It’s not-“ He groans, and the sound doesn’t help your situation. “They’re cool. They’re really freakin’ cool, and they’ve got awesome hats. Is it so wrong to like something?”

“No.” You hum. “But that’s a fantasy, Winchester. You have a cowboy fantasy. And you call me a nerd.”

Dean’s silent. For a little too long, Dean’s silent. And right when you’re about to ask if he’s still there, he mutters your name. “’S nice to have a fantasy, Princess. Something to want. Bet you have them too.”

You do.

You have two.

The first one you think of is the one that always slams into you like a blow to your gut. It’s made of Jo. Of what you’d told her, the last night she was alive. Of a world where her fantasy was reality. And that’s what you think of there, and you break down on the phone with Dean—again—and he stays on the line through it.

The second one makes you feel like a piece of fucking shit. Because you sob to Dean about how you miss Jo, and you want to come home, and you’re still looking for answers but everything still fucking hurts—it always fucking hurts, it never stops hurting, the only way to stop hurting is to stop being and you’ve never figured out how to do that—and then he goes. With a soft reminder to call him tomorrow, or text if you can’t, Dean has to leave and deal with human Cas.

And you’re worse than a monster.

Because when you’re done sniffling into your pillow, your head wanders back to Dean’s words.

Bet you have them too.

His voice had been so deep—and it’s always been deep, but it only seems to get deeper—and a little like a lullaby. A low, soothing promise that’s vibrated in your bones when he’s held you, and still sparks in your blood whenever you hear it.

And you can still see him, in your head. Broad and strong, soft in all the right places and grinning at you. Always grinning at you, and touching you. Dean’s touched you. He’s had hands skimming right under your shirt and resting on your hips, and he’s held you by your lower back so often, but never on bare skin.

It lights you on fire.

And you have fantasies.

You might have a lot of fantasies.

They’re all made of the memory of Dean’s lips on yours, and his taste on your tongue, and the warmth and Gold of him being everywhere. It would feel better than heaven, if he’d hold you right against him, his palm splayed over your lower back, his voice moving right through your body as you grind down onto his thigh. Calling you Princess and his and teasing you until you’re scratching at his back, and he’s just chuckling.

C’mon, baby girl. Just a little more, I’ve got you, you’re doing so good. That’s it, scream my name-

“Dean!”

You cum with a shaking body, and short, shallow gasp.

When your eyes fly open, you realize that scream wasn’t a part of the fantasy. That was loud, for anyone to hear as you’d orgasmed, grinding onto the sheets and pretending your hands on your breast were Dean’s.

The pricking, sickening shame hits you so fast. Jo’s still gone. Dean’s not even here, and you’re turning him into something he might not even want to be. Not for you. He’d been looking for comfort, and you’d made him your fantasy.

But he is your fantasy.

No matter how you try to push it down, now that the idea has crossed your mind, before you sleep you think of Dean.

Something must be wrong with you. Your days are spent staring at books and rubbing at your wrists, looking over your shoulder to make sure there’s no one behind you. No one to try and hurt you, only for their soul to end up splattered all over the ground. Someone tries to get your attention on the street again, and a redwood shoots out of the ground in Germany. You see a man that looks an awful lot like Ketch in a cafe—already putting you on edge—and then a little blonde girl with the same eyes Jo has starts crying, and a Javan tiger is seen running through Austria.

You don’t know how you’re doing it. Only that the Silver detonates, and everything is destroyed and remade all at once. You can’t find any records of that happening to other Magdalenes—or, really, at all—but you’re still looking.

You’ve found that Men of God is seeming to be a loose term—maybe a title—more than a solid rule. And when the trail runs dry on Magdalenes, you shift back to witchcraft. It’s easy, even without the Silver, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re being useful.

Not just running and destroying and sitting in the dirt near a river, staring at the blue on your hands.

Jo would like it here. She would like all the sun and beer, and she would like how the hotel shampoo smells, and she would love all the stray animals and stupid, fancy wines. She would drawl that all wine is wine, but this tastes like rippin’ off rich idiots.

You stole a bottle for her, and poured it into the river. Then you just sit there. Ignoring the Sky over you, pretending that when you stand up things will be better.

They won’t.

Jo’s still gone, and it’s still so fucking hollow. You’re trying to eat more, for her. Trying to sleep more too. You’re getting better at it, as the time passes. At not dying from self-neglect.

And she would’ve wanted you to talk to Dean. To let him convince you to come home, so he could hold you until it hurt a little less.

You don’t want it to hurt less. When it hurts it means you’re thinking about her, and if you stop thinking about her—sobbing on the riverbank, watching your fingers because one day the blue will fade and you don’t know what you’ll do—then who will. Someone has to be in pain for this. Someone has to pay, you’d already killed Anna, and Zachariah seems pretty fucking occupied with Sam and Dean.

Pain, numb and hollow and vast and fucking crushing—pressing on your lungs and head, faint in the background until it slams into you and breathing becomes a labor—is a price you deserve to pay.

So the days pass, and they’re lonely and repetitive, as the Sky keeps watching.

But your nights are spent collapsing on the bed, and calling Dean.

“Are the souls different? Wherever you are?”

You smile at the ceiling. “I mean, they’re different soul to soul.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, sweetheart-“

“They’re the same as home, De. All souls are the same.”

“Huh. You, uh,” he clears his throat. “You see any other golden souls?”

You can’t stop your laugh. You’ve never seen another golden soul. Not like Dean’s. And even if you did, no soul is made of the same primal, pure thing his and Sam’s are.

“What’s funny-“

“Nothing, it’s-“ You shake your head. “No. I haven’t seen any other souls like yours.”

Dean grunts, and you can picture his pouting scowl. “Alright. Good. But- I still don’t get why you were laughing, Princess.”

“It’s a soul joke. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Can you help me get it?”

“Dean-“

“C’mon. I show you stuff all the time. Taught you to drive stick, showed you how to clean a gun even though you never use them, explained all the work I did on the Firebird-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that one.”

“Yeah, but you were listening. You liked it.”

You had liked it. But that had been more to do with how—when he’d been talking—he’d been covered in grease and wearing a really tight shirt, smiling at you like there was never anything else to do and bouncing around like there’s never been any pain at all.

Dean doesn’t need to know that.

“I- Souls are really complicated-“

“I don’t care. Just-“ Dean pauses, sighing into the speaker. “I wanna hear you talk, Princess. It’s been a long fuckin’ week, and I- How about this. If you tell me about souls, I’ll teach you whatever you want, when you get home. Pinky promise.”

You swallow, and suddenly there’s a very clear image of Dean above you, his hand in your hair and his lips curved in a wide smirk as he guides you up and down his-

Fuck.

“I, um,” You pause, trying to regain control over your voice. “What do you wanna know?”

“I dunno. Explain the joke?”

“It’s- It’s not really that funny, I’m just tired-“

“You been sleeping?”

No. You’ve been talking to Dean and drinking coffee and you’re pretty sure you can feel every single nerve in your body, but that’s not the point. “Yes.”

“Lie. You need to fuckin’ sleep-“

You cut of Dean’s snap of your name with a sigh. “Are you sleeping?”

There’s a beat, and his response is so low you almost don’t hear it. “No.”

“Then shut up and stop telling me what to do.”

Dean chuckles. “So bossy, b- Princess-“

“Do you want to hear about the souls or not?”

“Yeah, alright. Go.”

You don’t explain it all. You tell him more about how souls tend to move and blend together, twining with other souls and staining each other in more and more colors until it’s almost kaleidoscopic. You mention the elements, but you’re vague—only that they all made of different things, not that you know what those different things are—because if you explain too much, Dean will ask what element he’s made of, and you’re not even sure what an honest answer would be.

To be fair, you never explain it all. You tell Dean you’re getting more leads on Magdalenes, but not a word about the Men of God, because he’ll freak out. You’ve explained all your outbursts, but never told him about the Sky. You never tell anyone about the Sky, because it makes you sound fucking crazy. Even in this life, saying the Sky is watching me and it hates when I talk to you, Deano would end with a strange look. Just like when you were a kid, telling your mother that the Sky is watching me, and making me promises, and I don’t want them. I don’t. I’m scared and I want to go home.

“Is it ever- Can you turn it off?” You can hear Dean’s frown through the phone. “I mean, that sounds like you’re being shoved into one of the carnival funhouses all the damn time.”

“That’s… Not far off.”

“But it’s gotta hurt your eyes or some shit-“

“I’m used to it,” you mumble, running your thumb over your palm. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to-“

“Dean. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, but- It shouldn’t be.” He lets out a long breath, and tears start to prick at your eyes. “There’s gotta be something that helps.”

You. You help, Dean. You’re so Golden it’s impossible to think about anything else.

“Maybe start looking for that?” Dean hums, and the lump starts to form in your throat. “How to control the soul-vision shit?”

“Soul vision?” You smile, even though it’s crushing over your ribs. “Creative, De.”

“Shut up. You love it.”

I love you. “I don’t hate it.”

“Good. Maybe work on-“

“But I don’t want to turn it off.” You glance down at your hands, and your voice is far too soft. Dean with be able to hear. “I- I can’t turn it off, Dean.”

He mutters your name, and you shake your head.

“I- I can’t. She’s still on me, her soul is still on me, and if I stop seeing it, she’s gone.” You’re breathing too shallow. You can’t stop. “I can’t let her be gone like this too, I couldn’t- It’s all I’ve got left, it’s the only piece of her left and only I can see it- And if- I- She can’t be gone, Dean, I can’t let her be gone-“

“I know.” Dean mutters, his voice so low and soothing, even through the choppy speaker. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry-“

“I wanna come home.” You whisper, and Dean goes silent. “I miss you, and I don’t-“ I’m scared. I’m scared and I want to go home. “Dean, I don’t know- Please.”

You don’t know exactly what you’re asking for. But somehow, Dean does.

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise it’s gonna be okay. I’ll send Cas out for you right now, if you want-“

You make a strangled noise, and Dean’s voice gets stronger. Firmer.

“Or we can just keep talking. You wanna keep talking, ba- Sweetheart?”

You nod, and even though he can’t see you, Dean still knows. Still understands. It rips another small, weak sound from your throat.

“I ate some pie, yesterday.” Dean hums, his voice still low and careful, and you let out a soft laugh.

“You eat pie every day, De.”

“Yeah, but this was cream pie. You’d like it, it had a bunch of chocolate on the top, and it was fucking full of that stuff they put in the donuts-“

“Cream?” You smile at the ceiling, and you don’t know how he does this. Every single time, even when he’s just a voice, Dean brings you back down. “I think it’s just cream, De.”

“Alright, whatever. Point is this thing is stuffed with cream-“

He can’t be doing this on purpose. You wouldn’t put it past Dean to do it on purpose, but this is the kind of thing he would talk about to see Sam get uncomfortable. But all you can think about is how even his voice is fucking pretty, and he keeps saying stuffed and cream and filled, and your skin is prickling with an aching, pleasant warmth, your thighs starting to press back together.

And Dean does eventually have to go. Once he’s satisfied with your lack of hyperventilation and the steadiness of your voice, he mutters that he has to go deal with Sam.

“Get some rest,” He mutters your name, and you swallow. “Or I’ll track you down and make you.”

The line cuts off before you can respond, and this is the part where something is wrong with you. You’re a fucking mess. Your cheeks are still stained with tears, and you’d been sobbing less than half an hour ago, but now you’re wet. Dripping. Your fingers trail between your legs, and over and over the sound of Dean saying you’d like the cream pie, Princess, replays in your head. The one time in his life that Dean wasn’t making an innuendo, you’re losing your mind with hunger for him.

And there are the fantasies.

Dean over you in bed—you don’t really care which one, as long as Dean is there—and his fingers shoved into your cunt as he kisses all over your face. And you’re breathless and clinging to him, but he’s holding you just as tight, and when he buries himself fully inside of you, he lets out a low groan right in your ear-

I’ve got you. I love you, baby. You know I love you.

You don’t. Dean’s never said that. But Dean’s voice has. And it spoke with a long drawl and soft affection. Your mind is taking that and running with it.

You cum with another gasp of Dean, your back arching off the bed, and you try not to think about it when you roll over and gather the blankets until they’re in a vague shape of Dean for you to hold all night.

And the Sky doesn’t get to see it. You always close the curtains when Dean calls, because you’re going to keep picking up the phone.

You’ll keeping missing him, too. And loving him.

And dreaming of him.

You never stop dreaming of Dean.

“No wanderin’ off.” Bobby grunts, scanning around the room.

It’s big. Almost as big as the rooms in your family’s house. There’s something different about it, though. Even though the air is colder, there’s a warmth to the walls and a comfort to the floor.

You don’t tell Bobby that. Not because he wouldn’t want to know, but because he already has enough to worry about.

“I’m not gonna wander.” You mumble, picking at the skin of your nails. “Promise.”

Bobby snorts. “I wish I believed you, kiddo.”

“Bobby-“

“I trust you.” He says your name carefully, holding your gaze. “But you like exploring and testin’ my fuckin’ blood pressure. I told you not to get distracted by the house, and what did you do?”

You pout at your shoes. “I sang on the staircase.”

“And why don’t we wanna do that.”

“Cause there’s an ubume running around.”

“Cause there’s a-“ Bobby pauses, frowning at you. “A what?”

“Ubume.”

“I ain’t sure what that is-“

“It’s the spirit of a woman who died in childbirth.” You mumble. “They’re not usually violent, but sometimes they try to steal children. And they like rocks, and there are all those rocks outside.”

Bobby blinks down at you, and shakes his has. “Fuckin’-“

“I’m sorry-“

“You’re righ-“ He cuts himself off, frowning down at you. “The hell are you sorry for?”

“I- I don’t-“ You swallow, the Darkness starting to turn out and press under your skin. “I don’t know.”

“Wel, ya shouldn’t be.” Bobby shrugs. “You’re right. The kids have been gettin’ the worst of it, so- They’re called ubumes?”

You nod, and Bobby sighs.

“You’re not in trouble, kiddo. You can relax.”

“But I- I wasn’t supposed to get involved with the hunt-“

Bobby runs a hand over his face. “I told ya that cause I didn’t want you tryin’ to take on this shit yourself. But if you know somethin’ I might not, always say it. Deal?”

You nod nervously, and Bobby extends his hand.

“C’mon, kiddo. If we can wrap this up by the afternoon, I’ll let ya go back to the staircase.”

Your eyes widen, even as you take his hand. “But the family-“

“They ain’t home. What they don’t know ain’t gonna hurt them.”

“Who aren’t we hurting?”

You blink, and turn to see Dean next to you.

Once again, you’re a little taller than before. And Bobby seems completely unaware of Dean’s presence, still running through the script of the memory as you walk through the house.

“A rich family from California,” you explain, Dean trailing behind you. “Bobby heard about their haunting, and he decided to take care of it while they were out of town. I got to come because Rufus was busy, and I’d been having a lot of freak outs, so he didn’t want to leave me alone.”

“Huh.” Dean nods slowly. “Why are you holding his hand?”

“Because right now, I’m eleven.” You pause, and extend your free hand to Dean.

He takes it without question, falling right into pace at your side and leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Where are we going?”

“To kill the ubume.”

“What the fuck is an abummy-“

“Oo-BU-me.” You hum, and when Bobby settles in the families kitchen—where you’d been keeping all the books and weapons—your hand doesn’t leave Dean’s. “Dead pregnant lady ghost.”

“Huh. And you killed it?”

“Bobby killed it.” You shrug, watching the younger version of Bobby shuffle around the room, asking you questions that in real life you’d answered, but in the dream are only met with an echo of your words as you keep talking to Dean. “I wasn’t allowed to leave the salt circle.”

“Why-“

“She was napping kids. I was a kid.” You sigh, resting your head on Dean’s shoulder. “And if he tried to take me, I would’ve lost it. And if I lost it, I probably would’ve had an even bigger freak out about losing it.”

Dean hums, keeping your hands interlocked as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you right into his side. “Did you? Lose it?”

“Not today, no. This hunt ends with the ubume ganked-“

Dean smirks. “You said ganked.”

“Shut up-“

“Bossy-“

“You gonna listen, Winchester?”

“Sorry, baby.” He’s still grinning, leaning down to press a kiss to your brow. “Keep goin’.”

Baby. I love you, baby.

Fuck.

“It’s not important.” You mumble. “I get to sing the Goodnight song from the Sound of Music on the stairs.”

“Oh, I remember that.”

You frown at him. “You-“

“You told me about it. When we worked that mall case. You said you wouldn’t sing for me, cause you wouldn’t kill for me.” Dean leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, his voice sending a shiver up your spine. “Would you kill for me now, Princess?”

“I-“ You swallow, turning your head to meet his gaze.

Mistake.

He’s so close. And even though you know this is a dream, he still looks so fucking real. Golden and pretty. All you’ve ever wanted.

All you ever could want.

“I think I would’ve killed for you then.” You whisper, and he blinks.

“And now?”

“I’d do anything.” You can tell him that. This isn’t real, so you’re not breaking any rules by telling him. “You’re- I-“

“I know.” He mutters, and he doesn’t kiss you on the lips. Dean just wraps his arms fully around your body, pulling you right into his chest and combing his fingers through your hair. “Me too. I- I miss you, Princess. I need you to come home.”

Your fingers curl in his shirt. “I want to, De. I- I’m so tired. And it hurts. It always hurts. This fucking sucks.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “It really fucking does. But life’s a bitch, sweetheart. Always gonna hurt. Better to have each other for it.”

“Alright.” You giggle into his body. “When did you get so wise?”

“When I started missing my girl all the time.”

You sigh. “She misses you too.”

“I know. But I hope she knows-“

There’s a bang on your door, and it rips you away from your dream. Away from Dean.

And the Silver is stirring. Nothing has happened but another loud, almost violent knock, but the Silver is already starting to hum and writhe.

That can’t be anything good.

You lay flat on your back, holding your breath until you’re a little light-headed. If it’s nothing, and the Silver is just going haywire, the knocking will stop. Whoever’s on the other side of the door will give up and move on.

But you’ve never been that lucky.

A bored, taunting voice says your name, and the sound is muffled through the door, but you still recognized the fancy, stupid accent.

Fuck.

“We know you’re in there, darling.” Ketch hums from outside. “It’ll so much easier for everyone if we cut to the chase, and you let us take you in.”

You stay silent, but your hands move to your wrists. You’ve been rubbing them until your skin was a little red and raw, and it stings to the touch, and the Silver is starting to turn and turn. It might not be the worst thing to explode on Ketch and whoever else he’s brought. But you’re in a cheap inn, and you’d passed a family when you were checking in. You won’t be in enough control to stop the damage from hitting them too.

But if Ketch tries to grab you, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself, either.

If you were a little better of a person, you’d let Ketch take you. You should be locked up. Contained. Kept where you’ll never hurt anyone, ever again.

But you’d never see Dean again, either. And you’d vanish, and he’s think you’d abandoned him. That you’d given up, or really run away, when it was supposed to be all the way down.

You’d promised Dean all the way down.

You’d promised Jo you’d be okay.

So you can’t go without a little some sort of fight. You’ll try and keep the Silver down, but if Ketch thinks this is going to go in his favor, he’s disgustingly wrong.

God, this is still going to suck.

Ketch repeats your name, and you take a long, steadying breath.

You can do this.

“You’re just dragging it out,” he calls. “We’ve got you surrounded, and we’re well prepared. You won’t be getting away this time. I promise, darling, it will be better if you come quietly.”

You almost laugh.

He has no fucking idea what he’s in for.

“I’m busy!” You call, slowing pushing up out of bed, your knife already in your hand. You’ve been sleeping with it. Just in case.

Plus, it reminds you of Dean.

“Can you come back later?”

Ketch laughs, and Jesus, it’s not a pretty sound. “I’m afraid we’re quite busy later. And you are not the type of girl one wants to take a rain check on. You might lose her after.”

You roll your eyes, spinning your knife in your hands. “I think you’ll find that you’re going to lose me anyway.”

“Wrong. We lost you last time because you left our jurisdiction. But now? You’re in our territory. And we’ve been watching you.”

“Of course you have,” you mutter. Your jacket is on, your bag is packed, now you just need to get out.

“You’re quite the fascinating little creature,” Ketch drawls your name, and you wonder—if you punch him hard enough—if you could make all his teeth fall out. “If we can figure out how to tame you, I think Mick would be right. You’d be quite the addition to our organization.”

Organization. You’d guessed they weren’t just a team of fancy fuck hunters, but that confirms it. “I think I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’m afraid it’s not an offer, darling-“

“Oh, well in that case,” you swing the door open, and give Ketch a wide, mocking smile. “I’ll just say suck my dick.”

It’s good to see that he hasn’t fully recovered from the ceiling you dropped on him. He’s holding his gun differently than before, and there’s a slight, forced slump to his shoulders.

He’ll probably get better eventually. But you hope it’s a long, grueling journey until he can fully throw his shoulders back again.

“You always have been so vulgar.” Ketch sighs. “We’ll work on that.”

“No.” You shrug, keeping your smile plastered on your face, even as the Silver grows. “I’m going to recommend you let me past, Ketch. It’ll be easier for all of us.”

He laughs. “Always so overconfident, too. I told you, we’re ready. I’ve got snipers trained on you, in case you try to use that cute little blade. This place is warded, darling. Your magic tricks are useless.”

“Oh no.” You drawl. “It’s warded. What am I going to do.”

“Well, you-“ Ketch’s eyes narrow. “You are being sarcastic.”

“I have never been sarcastic in my life-“

Ketch snaps your name. “You are not working this in your favor, by being uncooperative.”

“I think you’ll find I’m being incredibly cooperative.” You shrug. “I’m trying really hard not to kill you all.”

“Oh, are you-“

“Yep.” Your eyes narrow. “Stand down. Now.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Ketch says, his voice bored, and you sigh.

“Alright,” you swallow, glancing up to the Sky.

Silent. Uncaring. To it, Ketch is nothing more than a firefly. More than just a bug, but still disposable.

“Your funeral.” You give Ketch a grimacing smile. “Let’s dance.”

There’s a moment—as you watch the men behind Ketch raise their guns to your head and your spin your knife in your hands—where you think you might be able to get out of this the normal way.

Then Ketch grabs your wrist, and you’re gone. Tearing through the world once more, growing out and out and out until the Silver is satiated, and the ground doesn’t want to move up and protect you.

It crashes back into you, the blur clears, and it’s such a fucking mess. Another building in ruin. A fucking jackalope hopping around in the strange, black and golden flowers, and a white stag prancing on the high way.

When you sweep the damage, it looks like you got lucky. Most people were out for the day. There’s only a rose-pink receptionist to hold and push back into her body, all of Ketch’s men—they might have had guns aimed at you, but they’re still people—and Ketch himself.

A muddied orange on the pavement. And you could leave him. Dean would tell you to leave him, that he’d tried to kill you and kidnap you, and he has tortured you, so it’s not unjustifiable to just leave him for the angels to find. And they will find him. You’ve already lingered too long, and the angels will be here soon.

But you can’t stop thinking about Jo, draining of all her blue. Growing hollow, just like how Ketch’s body is passed out on the ground.

Before you can think about it too hard, you’re grabbing Ketch’s soul, and shoving it back where it belongs.

You might regret that. You know you’ll regret that.

But it’s done. You aren’t going to take it back.

And you have to go, and not look back.

You’re getting better at not looking back.

Except with Dean.

You’ll always look back for Dean.

He hasn’t seen you yet. Dean’s attention is all focused on John. Shouting at him and raising his hands, high enough that Dean flinches, but never landing a hit.

Dean looks young. Younger than you remember knowing him. His face is softer, and his nose is still crooked but his hair is a lot lighter. While John yells, he’s bowing his head in a way you’ve rarely seen before. There’s no fight in him. He seems to be absorbing every verbal blow John throws at him, only fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves as he waits for it finish.

“He could be hurt, you fuckin’ dumbass- He could be goddamn dead and it would be your fault. I give you one fuckin’ job, and it ain’t makin' him happy-“ John groans, running a hand over his face. “If you don’t tell me where the hell your brother ran off to, Dean, it’s gonna be your fuckin’ head-“

“Why is he mad?” You whisper in Dean’s ear, and he starts slightly.

“Son a bitch, Princess. You scared the shit out of me.”

You grin at him. “Aw, are you jumpy-“

“I don’t get jumpy.” He grumbles, and before you know what’s happening, Dean’s arm is looped around your waist and his face is buried in your neck. “I’m tough, sweetheart. Just didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Right.” You let your fingers wander up to his hair, glaring as John just keeps shouting like nothing’s different at all. “Of course you’re tough, Deano. You’re a cowboy.”

“I know.” He mutters into your skin. “‘M your cowboy.”

“Yeah. You are.” You sigh, glaring at John over his head. “Why is he yelling at you?”

“I let Sammy have a sleepover, while Dad was on a hunt. He got back early. He wasn’t happy I let Sam out of my sight at all, but then I refused to say where he went. That made him pissed.”

“You lied to your dad?”

“Sometimes, yeah. When I had to.”

“This was a have to?”

Dean grunts into you. “Was a sleepover with a girl. Sammy had just turned sixteen.”

You laugh. “Right. Obviously.”

“And I lied to Dad for you, too.” He grumbles, his arms tightening around you. “Never told him about our hunts.”

“I- Why?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and Dean just shrugs.

“He woulda stopped me seeing you. Never wanted to stop seein’ you.” He takes a long breath. “You always smell so good. Drives me fucking insane.”

Jesus. “I don’t smell like anything, De-“

“Wrong. Smell like fucking heaven, I don’t even- Wish I could figure out what it was. Spent so much time trying to figure it out.”

“You lied to John to smell me?”

“Kinda.”

“Oh.“ You swallow. “Did you ever lie so you could have a sleepover?”

“A sleep- You mean to fuck someone?”

He’s so all around you. It’s just a dream, but Dean’s still Golden and surrounding you and almost folded over your body, and you’re not sure how you remember to speak. “Yeah.”

“Never needed to. Only to see you. And I didn’t get laid for that.”

“You didn’t ask to get laid.” You mumble, and Dean chuckles.

“Would you have said yes, baby?”

Baby. I love you, Baby.

“Don’t answer that.” Dean mutters before you can even open your mouth, pulling back with an almost sheepish grin. “Already know the answer.”

You don’t think he does. Even the Dean in your head doesn’t seem to know that you love him. That you’d do anything for him. But he’s holding your gaze, and he’s your Dean again. A little taller, small scars littered on his face that make him look even more like that Cowboy, skin more tanned and eyes far heavier. When his hand lifts up to trace over your features, it’s calloused and rough, and his lips have gone chapped, but he’s still so pretty. And his Gold is still strong.

“I think I woulda run away with you.” He murmurs, and his voice is like a spell. You couldn’t move away if you tried. “Met you a year after this, and- Son of a bitch, Princess, I wish I’d stayed, that night. Pushed my luck with the smartest, prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Missed you then, too. Always missed you. Shouldn’t have listened to Dad. He- I knew he didn’t like me, but I never thought he’d hate me that much. Taking you away from me.”

You let out a slow breath, and shake your head. And you hate John. You hate him more than anything, for what he’s done to you, and Sam, and Dean. But you never want Dean to think anyone hates him. If Dean thinks John did all this because he hated him, Dean will make it his own fault. Make himself a failure, when it was John who failed him. And John—in his own, horrible, selfish, fucked up way—had cared about Dean. You wish he hadn’t.

But he did.

“He didn’t hate you, Dean.” You whisper. “He was just a piece of shit, and he hated me. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, well, hating you is hating me. You the awesomest part of me.”

You flush, and Dean’s grin widens. “Awesomest isn’t a word.”

“Could be.”

“No-“

“There’s no a better word for you, Princess.” Dean swoops down, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hips until you giggle. “And I don’t care if Dad hated me. You like me.”

“I do.” You whisper, your stupid, ditzy smile returning. “I really do.”

You wake up slowly. Blinking as light seeps through the windows, your blanket still wrapped in your arms as a crude mockery of Dean.

And the better days are like this. Moving slowly through your gathered books—often finding nothing, but sometimes coming across a new spell or ritual or empty clue—and picking at your food, Dean’s voice in the back of your head humming eat, Princess. You need to eat.

You really have gotten better at it, over the months. You register when you need to go to the bathroom, and don’t fight it until it’s unavoidable. You eat less than you maybe should, but enough to not grow dizzy when you stand up. You keep water next to you all the time, and when your hand starts to cramp, you let it rest a little longer than one flex. You’d promised Jo you’d be okay.

And you’re not. You’re still tired, and breaking down, and you want to go home. But at least nobody will look at you, and see a girl that’s really more of a ghost.

Today is one of those better days. Good might be too far a stretch, but it’s better. Simple. Read and eat and drink, go for a walk because fresh air is good for the pain over your skull, take a shower because it’s nice not to feel grime on your skin.

And you could swear the Sky is growing brighter.

All day, it seems to be somehow building brighter and brighter.

And growing. It seems insane, but the Sky seems to be fucking growing until it’s wrapped around more than you. Like it’s bracing you for something you don’t understand.

But everything is peaceful. No demons crashing into your motel room. Nothing from Ketch or his organization since your last detonation. The grass shifts easily in the wind, but the flowers seem to be holding their bloom. You haven’t seen a bird all day. You’ve seen people, nothing else. No bugs, no rabbits, no spiders.

Only a snake in the flower bed, and a dog who whines as he passes you.

It’s strange. Eerie.

Wrong.

Something is, in a way you don’t know how to articulate—but sits and shifts deep in your bones and intestines—wrong.

The Sky is so big. It’s still only watching, but it still seems to be reaching for you.

Not to swallow you.

To veil you.

Hide you.

When the sun sets, the Sky is still shining. Nobody can see it but you, and it’s not making the world luminated, but the Sky is pure white and glaring with danger.

You don’t know from what.

But you know that the Silver is waking up. Nothing has even happened, but the Silver is rolling around inside of you. And you know Dean’s not picking up the phone. You try him, when you can’t sleep under the white of the Sky, but he doesn’t pick up.

He always picks up.

You’ve called him when it was the dead of night for him, and he’s answered with a muffled grumble and sleepy grunts. You’ve called him in the middle of a hunt, and he’s picked up just to tell you he’ll call you back. Once you called him during a movie, and he turned it off to talk.

Dean always picks up.

Something is really fucking wrong.

You try Sam, and you know he’s been put in the panic room for demon blood reasons—although you’re still worried about how long the infection will take to clear his soul—but maybe he has phone privileges-

Nothing.

Bobby. He always picks up after three rings, but this goes all the way to voicemail. You’ve never heard Bobby’s voicemail before. It’s brisk and says nothing more than if you’ve got this number, you know what to do, but Bobby has never been anything if not efficient.

You didn’t leave Sam a message.

You leave one for Bobby.

“Hey, It- It’s me.” You mumble your name, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been calling more, but I thought you’d be mad at me for leaving. I know you’re mad at Dean about it, but he was just trying to- Please don’t be mad at him. I miss you, and-“ You swallow down a sob. The point. You need to get to the point. “I think something’s really wrong, Bobby. It’s- It’s just a feeling, but somethings wrong. And Dean’s not picking up the phone, and I’m really worried, so please just call me back and tell me everything’s okay. I need to know you’re okay, and I- I’m sorry-“

“Fifteen seconds left.” A cool, automated voice hums, and you take a sharp breath. You’re going to fucking cry again.

“I’m sorry. I miss you and I’m sorry and please tell me you’re okay. Something is really wrong, Dad, and I need to know you’re okay, I’m so-“

The machine beeps. You wipe your nose with your sleeve as the message sends, and the feeling of wrong only grows, the Silver pushing up with it. It’s shrinking, like it’s trying to hide in the darker corners of your body, but still gnashing with sharp teeth for when things go wrong.

Things are going to go wrong. Something so fucking primal is rolling over your every nerve, telling you something is wrong. And the wind is howling a warning, and the earth is pressing up to try and guard you like the Sky, and when you turn on the tap water, it’s singing you a soft song. It’s almost soothing. Not like a sedation, but a comfort.

You hole up in your motel room, closing the curtain to try and block the Sky. You pray to Cas and he doesn’t answer, and you try Dean two more times with no luck. Your knife is clutched in your hands, and you’re curled right against the wall, and the water is still singing in all the pipes through the building, and it hurts but the comfort seems to be an anesthetic, and-

You’re not sure where you are. Only that its’s dark and cold and lonely. And high. You’re so fucking high up.

Or low.

You can’t actually tell.

The whole word seems like it’s folded into itself. The sky is at your feet but it’s also above you and at your side. Like an illusion, keeping you contained with smoke and mirrors and light.

There are shadows, creeping forward and trying to touch you. But something always makes them recoil, as if you’re a toxic or poison or feral or-

Silver

It’s the Silver.

You’re only the Silver, and the shadows can’t stand it. They hiss and sneer at the feeling of it, but still try to touch you. Then after they retreat, they try again, Like maybe this time, they’ll be strong enough.

Or you’ll be weaker.

But you’re not growing weaker. The more the Silver is poked at, the bigger it gets.

The bigger you get.

You are the Silver, and you’re more than glowing. You’re bioluminescent and blinding, but still filled with every space between the starts and all the colors colliding and shimmering through you.

Somewhere in the shadows, there’s something red. Bloody, electric red and shining like a black light.

It has more eyes than you can count, and a billion fists, and a million wings. But it’s not made of fire.

It’s made of the same gleaming, wrathful light as Sam and Dean.

And when it smiles at you, the earth shakes.

“Wow. You’re prettier than he deserves.” It hums. “Don’t worry. I can help you fix that.”

You swallow, but before you can respond, everything splits open. All of it. A crack leaking through the mirage, filling with light.

The light of the Sky.

“This is me.” The Red smirk at you. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry. We’ll have a lot of fun.”

The Red bursts up, and then it’s gone.

But you don’t move. You’re not trapped. You could follow the Red thing through the crack, but you don’t know how to move. You’re all Silver, and it’s too much. There’s nothing to tether too. Nothing to shrink back into. You just everything and nothing all at once, and it’s as if you’ve been turned into mist and filled with iron all at once, then told to run.

You don’t know how to do anything but sit here. The Sky is watching you, through the crack, and you can’t tell if it’s urging you to move or demanding that you wait for it to grab you by the scruff of your neck-

It yanks you out of the paralyzing sleep. The blaring sound of some screaming part in a Led Zeppelin song.

Sam and Dean don’t to ringtone, but they’re also both legally dead and criminals. You’re a ghost. You don’t run scams, and as far as the government is concerned, you’re a stale missing persons case.

So you get to do ringtone.

And you’ve never been more grateful for that than now.

You grab the phone and answer without checking who it is. You already get to know.

“Dean, fucking- God I was so worried-“

“You were worried about me, Princess?” Dean rasps, and you don’t miss the exhaustion leaking through his voice.

“Of course I was worried about you.” I love you. “Are you okay?”

He sighs. “I’m in one piece. So is Sammy, and Bobby- He will be.”

Will be.

Your stomach twists.

“Something happened, didn’t it.” Your voice is barely a breath, and leaving was a horrible idea. You know something’s wrong, and breathing is starting to become a labor as your skin itches off your body, but there’s no one here to hold you.

Dean’s not here to hold you.

“I-“ You take a shaking, unsteady breath. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s wrong. I know something’s wrong, Dean, I can feel it-“

“I know.” Dean whispers, and your hand moves up to hold your throat.

The Silver is dormant. But it’s still too much, and old habits don’t decay when you don’t know how to plant anything new.

“It’s- We- Son of a bitch.” Dean clears his throat. “We kinda fucked up.”

You can’t breathe. “What?”

“We failed.”

“Dean-“

“The cage.” Dean mumbles. “It’s open. He’s out. Shit it- It’s bad, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” You whisper. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. It’s- Son of a bitch, you were right,” he mutters your name, his voice almost hushed. “It was Ruby. She’d been working with Lilith the whole time, and she tricked Sammy, and he’s such a fuckin’ idiot but I’m worried about him-“

“Dean.” You whisper, and you wish you could touch him. Move his face into your neck, like in your dream. Maybe fold yourself around him and be that damnation for him. “Are you okay?”

“I- Yeah. We got out, everything intact. Something sent us away. We lost Cas for a minute, but turned out something wanted him to stick around. Some demons went for us in Bobby, and he got hurt-“

“Bobby-“

“He’s fine, Princess. Gonna be fine. Stable. We’re actually about to go see him right now. And Sam’s fine too. Detoxing. He’s angry, and we’re- We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You take a shaking breath, keeping your eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Dean?”

He grunts, and try not to let the strain in your whole body grow audible.

“Are you okay?”

“I told you-“

“You told me Cas and Bobby and Sam are fine. I’m asking about you.”

There’s a long moment of silent static, and you know by now to wait. The line’s not dead. Dean’s just thinking.

And when he speaks, his voice is barely a rasp.

“I- I need you to come back.” He mutters your name, and it’s too soft. “Son of a bitch, I- I can’t keep worrying about you and doing this.”

“Dean.” You sigh. “You know I can’t, they’ll-“

“I don’t give a shit what they do. Heaven or Hell or any of them. Demons rip me up and the angels will just pull me right back out. They need me. Some bullshit about Michael wanting to use me as a condom-“

“What-“

“Long story.” He mutters. “But I don’t fuckin’ care what consequences there are, Princess. Come home.”

There’s another silence as a lump forms in your throat, and you need to speak but words feel far away-

“Please.” Dean’s voice is so low and exhausted. “I need you.”

There it is. What you’ve been asking him not to do for months.

He needs you.

Dean needs you.

And you don’t think you could say no if you tried.

“Okay.” You whisper. “Is Cas- Will he hear me?”

“Think so. Are you-“

“I’m coming home.”

You can hear Dean’s sigh, and it’s filled with relief.

You’re really don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t do for him.

“See you soon, Princess.”

“I- Yeah. Bye, De.”

It’s quick, to pack up. Most of your possession now are old, fragile books that better fucking survive angel travel, or you’ll punch Cas in the face. You don’t pray immediately, though. While there was no destruction, whatever had happened last night—Lucifer escaping, you’d been responding to Lucifer escaping, and you don’t know what the fuck that means—the wall are covered in vines and a little waterfall has formed from the window edge, falling down on to the floor-

Ground. You’re standing on the ground. Grass and flowers and tiny trees, and it’s buzzing with life below your feet. Like a little ecosystem, confined to your room.

That’s something the angels will probably be able to track.

You can’t call Cas here.

It’s a short walk than usual, and you stop at a Church. If the angels are sweeping the area, they probably won’t think to find you here. It’s hiding in plain sight.

You close your eyes, and pray.

Cas. Help. Please.

There’s a whoosh, almost immediately.

But it’s not Cas’ low, gravelly voice that comes from behind you.

“You should be careful, sweetheart. Praying in a church.” The bright, almost cheery voice laughs. “You might attract some unwanted attention.”

When you turn, the voice belongs to a shorter man, with longer, blond hair and bright eyes.

But that’s not what makes you stumble back a step.

He’s blue.

He’s so fucking blue.

Like the blue of Cas, turned up to a million. And he has an uncountable amount of eyes shoved into two, a billion fists curled into the same, and a million wings pressed to his back-

“You’re an archangel.” You whisper, and the Blue laughs.

“Wow. That was fast. You know, everything I’ve ever heard about you said you’d be pretty, but smart? Don’t think he planned for that. In for a big surprise.”

You swallow. He can’t smite you. Or hurt you. Zachariah said nothing was allowed to hurt you.

So you raise your chin, and hold the Blue’s gaze.

“What do you want?”

It doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Damn. Moxie, too? They don’t know what they’re getting with you! A little spitfire.”

You frown. “Moxie?”

“Sorry, forgot you’re only what, thirty?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Shit. Even younger. Basically a fetus.” He shrugs. “Well, kid, moxie means you’re headstrong, little bit sassy-“

“I know what moxie means.” You mutter, rubbing the scar on your palm. “And that’s not correct. I just haven’t heard anyone use the word seriously.”

“Who says I’m serious?” The Blue winks. “I’m the fun one. I’d ask if you wanted to see, but I don’t think that would end in my favor. Already pushing it just by bein’ here.”

“I-“

The Blue cuts you off with a tsk. “I’ve got something to say, sweetheart. Something you’re gonna wanna here, before you do anything stupid.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m not doing anything-“

“You’re trying to go home.” The Blue shrugs. “And it is stupid. I know what tree you’ve been barking up, sister, and it’s not the right one.”

“Sister-“

“No.” The Blue cuts you off quickly, shaking his head. “Just a nickname. You’re not my sister. That would be…” He wrinkles his nose. “So fucking gross. Like, we’re a fucked-up family, but not that fucked up. There’s gotta be a line, y’know? I think it’s there.”

The Blue speaks in circles and riddles, and it’s worse than Cas. At least Cas is amusing, and simply doesn’t know better. This guy just seems to be trying to set you off-

“That won’t work.”

You blink at him. “Wha-“

“Your little magic trick. The bam.” He makes a crushing gesture, raising his brows. “Afraid you need to have a little more control and self-love than you’ve got now, to take me out. I mean, the other thing you’ve got, the boom-“ Another gesture. “That might work, actually. Not sure. Let’s not find out.”

Now you’re just too confused, and you’ll hand it to him. The Blue’s vagueness seems to keep the Silver only brimming in your body.

“Look, I’d love to talk with you forever, but we’re kinda on a timer.” The Blue sighs, his tone suddenly falling into something serious. “That tree? The one where you’re trying to work out what you are and how to control it? Stop it. Stop barking.”

“I-“

“You don’t understand what you’re doing.” The Blue says your name, and it’s a little distorted. Louder. Musical.

Enochian.

“You’re changing things. Things that shouldn’t be tampered with, let alone moved around and rearranged however you want.”

“No- I-“ You shake your head, your hands drifting up to rub at your wrists. “I left. I stopped interfering, I promise-“

“You already interfered.” The Blue sighs, giving you an almost sympathetic expression. “Just your existence, just by letting them into your orbit, you’ve done more than you can-“

“But I stopped.” You’re almost pleading. You’d left to stop. To make sure nothing you did hurt anyone you loved. That was the fucking point, you’d stopped-

“Look.” The Blue run a hand—hands?—over his face. “We’re behind schedule, because of you! Little Sammy Winchester actually held on longer against Ruby and the blood, because you planted a little extra doubt in his head! Because he and Dean were fighting, but they fought all the time! He just knew you’d always end up with Dean, and he didn’t want to lose you with his brother, so he held on!”

“I- I don’t-“

“They’re ahead, too! Sam and Dean aren’t fighting as much because of Sam trying longer, and Dean’s thinking about what you would do! And you turned sweet, hopeful Castiel over to their side too soon, and now they’ve got some extra steps on everyone, which is going make this drag. People are gone that should’ve stuck around, and some of them are early, and you’ve made a mess that’s going to take forever to get in order!”

The Silver is still silent, as the Blue throws his hands in the air.

You wish it would turn in, and rip you to shreds.

“I didn’t mean to.” You whisper, your hand returning to your throat. “I promise I didn’t mean to-“

“I know you didn’t.” The Blue shakes his head, and there’s that fucking sympathy again. “But you’ve gotta stop, kid. You’re making this even more complicated than those chuckleheads ever could.”

“But I- I want to go home.” You sound like a child. You don’t care. “I’ll just lock myself in my room, I promise, I but I- I need to go home-“

“Sorry,” The Blue says your name, in Enochian once more. “No dice. He’s looking for you, and that’ll make this all worse-“

“He-“

“My brother.”

“Oh.”

The Sky flashes over you.

The Blue doesn’t seem to see it.

“It’s better if you get some sleep, I think.” The Blue frowns, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Yeah. Sleep will be good for you.”

You don’t want to sleep. You need to get home. Back to Dean. You’d told him you’d come home, so you need to come home-

“Probably won’t hold, but it’s better than the other option.” The Blue raises one of his bursting, electric hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it feel good. Send you someone nice.”

You want to scream, to run, to fight, but the Silver hasn’t built itself up, and you’re frozen.

And before you can call for Dean, the Blue presses to your brow, and the world goes dark.

“What don’t you think is real?”

You blink at Dean in the dark of the Impala, and a little bit of chocolate milk is smeared on his upper lip.

He’d grabbed a beer, insisting that he didn’t want anything else. But you’d grabbed two chocolate milks, because you know him.

Love him.

Miss him.

You know this is a dream faster than usual. The whole world—even in the dark of midnight—is bathed in gold, just like when you dream about Dean without you. You remember what’s supposed to happen here.

You don’t really want to stray from the script, though.

You love this one.

“What do you mean?” You reach up to wipe the milk off Dean’s face, and he grins at you.

“Y’know. Some of this shit has to be fake.”

You hum, watching him carefully. “Like what?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns are real-“

“I- No they’re not-“

“I’ve seen one.”

“Ah.” Dean grumble, taking another large drink of his chocolate milk. “Of course you have.”

You giggle, scooting a little close to his side to grab the jerky from his lap. His arm goes around the bench. Your shoulders. Casually keeping you pressed against him.

It had never even crossed your mind to move.

“What don’t you think is real?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“I believe what I can see. What I can kill. Monsters, ghosts, me, you-“

“Me? Should I be worried you’re going to kill me?”

“No.” He scowls. “You know that’s not what I meant. And I’m being serious-“

“I know you are, Deano.” You give him an amused look, reaching up to wipe the milk off again. “Do you believe in me?”

“Course I believe in you-“

“Do you believe in Sam?

“I-“ He sighs. “Just say it, sweetheart.”

Okay. You’re being dramatic.”

He’s almost pouting. “No, I’m not-“

“Yes, you are.” You sigh. “It doesn’t matter what might be real or not. I’m real. You’re real. This,” you poke him, and his gaze never leaves yours. “Is real. And I know it.”

“You know it?” Dean shakes his head. “How-“

“I just do. Do you know I’m real?”

He sighs, and nods. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

“Oh, you guess-“

“Shut up.”

You giggle, and Dean grins at you again.

“I’m glad you’re real, Princess. Would suck if you weren’t.”

You smile up at him, and you look stupid, and nothing has ever felt better. “I’m glad you’re real too, De.”

What you want to say—what you always want to say—is I love you. Dean Winchester, you perfect, Golden idiot, I could never love anyone but you.

But you can’t be allowed to. Not even in a dream.

So instead you just lean press your face into his chest, breathe him in, and hope that this moment lasts forever.

End Note: introducing new lore mechanics is always very special to me because I get to share about something I’ve been keeping secret for MONTHS and also you guys get to be confused.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Buy me a coffee!☕️

Taglist (If you want to be added, please fill out the form!)

@brtodd @artemys-ackles @sthefferrete @lyarr24 @deansbbyx

@bakugotypecrashout @kittycain @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @zuberweirrd @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco

@ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @heyimolive

@itsdearapril @speedypersonawhispers @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed

@arcticwisteria @youroldfashioned @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378

@godhelpthisbtch @ilovedeanwinchester4 @wecangetlostinthepurplerain @sleepykittycx

@immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101 @chi-raz @lori19

@wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh @woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend

@lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey @and-i-wish @ghosth0ney

@funkenniffler

121 notes · View notes

hyuneskkami · 9 hours ago

Text

⭔ . 𐔌 김승민 .ᐟ ꒱ ─ stargirl ✦

⭑ kim seungmin. ⓘ seungmin attending the chaumet event with y/n, a chaumet brand ambassador.

⌣ ﹒ ୨ৎ ﹕ chaumet!seungmin ₊ ‎ ‎ brand ambassador!9th member!f!reader ˙ . ꒷ masterlist ! ⭑ 🐚 ⋮ fluff .ᐟ

ꪆ୧ 𝒶n 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ seung in the white shirtless vest just did something to me… and dear LORD it needed to be fic’d up, yk- here’s the final never-proofread product of random boosts of motivation lmao. hope you like it <3

ꪆ୧ 𝓌arnings + tags 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ swearing , teasing , banter , childhood best friends vibe to frenemies to lovers -esque , lots of banter , plot modifications because jeongin is also going with them , y/n faces slight inappropriate behaviour from male ‘fans’ but they’re stopped before something bad really happens , one dialogue exchange is inspired by a prompt list I saw but now I can’t find it so i’m really sorry to the creator , baby fever , idol interactions with cha eun-woo (astro), park sunghoon (enhypen), yeji (itzy) , seung calls reader by lots of nicknames (my love, stargirl, pretty, sweet girl, jagi) , making out , the last dialogues are what seungmin said irl at one of the concerts ;

ꪆ୧ tldr : 𝓌arnings + tags 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ swearing , inappropriate behaviour from some male fans , baby fever , nicknames , making out ;

ꪆ୧ 𝓌c 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ 4.3k

you were doing some vocal practice and warm ups with seungmin and jeongin, for the next leg of your dominATE tour in japan, when you got the message from your staff.

“y/n, you will be accompanying seungmin and jeongin to paris for the chaumet party. it’s happening during the paris fashion week,” our manager notified us, walking into the room.

you and seungmin groaned at the same time, harmonising like you usually did on stage. you rolled your eyes at him, and he stuck his tongue out at you.

“why me?” you groaned in a low voice.

“because you’re one of the global brand ambassadors for chaumet?” minho said, waltzing into the room.

“the only one, other than song hye-ko and the cha eun-woo,” jisung pointed out, following minho into the room.

“why are you two here?” you narrowed your eyes at them.

“to watch you writhe in pain as you realise you will be spending a few days with your mortal enemy,” minho replied. he flopped down onto the bean bag. your bean bag.

“get the fuck up! that’s mine!” you said, falling on him and trying to wrestle him to the ground. “you just came here because the air conditioning works really well, you liar.”

“tch, have some respect for your elders—”

“you’re only two years older, that’s barely anything.”

you left home yesterday, on the 4th of march, and arrived today. the event was the next day, so you had a day to yourselves. the three of you coordinated outfits (as per jeongin’s begging) and decided to spend the day roaming through the streets of paris and hoping not to get recognised.

[ seungmin’s outfit . jeongin’s outfit . y/n’s outfit ]

jeongin and you stopped a lot to take pictures in places you dubbed ‘cool’, and seungmin was your photographer when you wanted duo pictures with jeongin.

“yah! I didn’t know you were such a good photographer, min,” you said, the nickname slipping out of habit from your school years.

he turned pink and looked away quickly, but you caught the heat rushing to his face and smirked.

“can we stop for food?” you asked, a little while later. you were all walking with your hands in your pockets as your steps synced with each other’s like second nature. they nodded. “I know your orders, i’ll get them.” you said, pointing to a cafe’s ‘bienvenue’ sign.

seungmin looked at you hesitantly, but didn’t say what he was clearly thinking: stay safe.

“share your live location in our group chat,” jeongin said, and you quickly did.

“there. now don’t worry, and go ahead to the park, i’ll be there in a few minutes.” you assured them, as they walked away.

you step into the cozy cafe, wishing you could live close to a place like that.

“bonjour! je veux un iced americano avec syrup, un iced chocolate ou glacé, et un peach ice tea, s’il vous plaît,” you smiled warmly at the cashier. you studied french for years during high school, so you were proud you still remembered the basics.

the cashier smiled back at you, and gave you your order in a small bag within a few minutes, since the cafe was quite empty.

you walked out, and suddenly two men came in your way. they looked around your age, maybe even a little younger.

“hey, are you y/n? from stray kids?”

“it’s you, isn’t it!”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you murmured, pulling your cap lower on your face and attempting to walk past them.

as you tried to shove your way through the gap between their broad shoulders, they pushed closer, cornering you into a wall.

“just give us one picture and we won’t tell anyone we saw you here,” one of them threatened, lowering his voice. the other’s palm rested against the wall beside your head, towering over you.

you looked down at your feet and your breath came in quick pants, as you started to panic.

one of their hands came to rest on your upper arm and you tensed, curling your shoulders inward into yourself. the heat from his palm radiated directly on your skin through the button-up you were wearing, in a bad way.

before you could say anything, seungmin and jeongin were there and were pulling off the two men by their collars.

words were exchanged between them, and seungmin seemed to get angrier by the second. their voices began to rise, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw jeongin grabbing one of the guys’ collar harshly and pulling him close. he whispered something in a low voice, which you couldn’t hear.

the men’s eyes widened as they glanced at you, and they scrambled off quickly as seungmin rushed to you. jeongin was still glaring into the back of their heads as they ran away.

seungmin didn’t say anything yet. he gave you a once-over with his angry gaze. you knew that his anger wasn’t directed at you, though. he continued to look at you as you still clutched the cafe’s bag tightly, knuckles going white. your breath still wavered as you tried to inhale and exhale.

saying nothing, he put his hands around you, and pulled you closer by your waist. one of his hands moved to rest against the back of your head, which he gently pushed against his chest. his chin rested on your head.

“listen to my heartbeat. feel my breath. try to match your breathing with mine. slowly.” he guided you. “you’re okay now, n/n. i’m sorry we let that happen.” he whispered.

“‘s not your fault,” you mumbled into his shirt.

he said nothing, but his hand tightened around your waist as he pulled you even closer, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. your eyes were rimmed with tears at the soft moment.

jeongin rushed over, and he enveloped seungmin and you with both his arms. “did anything happen to you, noona?”

your eyes watered even more because of jeongin’s sweetness.

“you guys came before anything could have happened,” you told him, nodding gratefully, slowly. “i’m fine now.”

jeongin let you go. seungmin moved a little further away but his hand stayed linked with yours, rubbing straight lines down the back of your hand.

the three of you walked to the park, and soon you forgot about the interaction with those fans.

“noona! can you take some good pictures of me for my insta?” jeongin pleaded with his exaggerated large doe eyes and a pout.

“i’d do it even without the whole puppy face package, innie,” you laughed. you took out your phone and started directing jeongin like how a director might have done to an actor.

seungmin took a seat on the bench and plugged in his wired earphones. he said he liked the ‘feel’ of the wire, but you’re sure he’s just covering up the fact that he keeps losing his wireless earphones because he’s clumsy.

you had finished taking pictures for jeongin, and gotten the best ones approved by him too. and then, you switched positions so he could take your outfit’s pictures.

“y/n-nie! a little more grunge please,” he directed. you sputtered out a laugh, throwing your head back.

meanwhile, seungmin’s earphones played ‘blue’ by yung kai. it felt like the world had stopped for a while, as he watched you. it was almost as if the universe timed everything perfectly.

the birds stopped chirping and the wind stopped blowing. the earth stopped rotating.

unfiltered sunlight shone on your features. your glowing brown eyes. the curve of your nose. the pink of your lips. the blush on your cheeks from laughing for too long. the way your eyes literally sparkled as you laughed at the maknae.

it all felt like a fever dream to him. in that moment, all he wanted to do was pull you close and kiss you. shout out to the world that you were his, and he was yours.

“seung, what are you thinking so hard about? more ways to get minho-hyung to put hyunjin in the air fryer?” you asked, turning to him. jeongin started laughing, clutching his stomach tightly.

“remember when minho-hyung found out it was seungmin that stuck those pink stickers all over the back of his stage outfit and not hyunjin? he totally lost it!” jeongin wheezed.

seungmin rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed, wondering how he managed to get stuck taking care of two little brats at the same time.

that night, you all fell asleep in a cuddle pile in the huge bed in your hotel room.

the next morning, you were awoken to jeongin’s foot under your nose and seungmin’s arm around your waist as his breath tickled your neck. you let your heart beat faster for a second, and then shove both of them off you, successfully waking them up as well.

“ass-crack of dawn,” seungmin groaned.

“the world hates us,” jeongin cried.

“drama queens,” you muttered as you put on your fuzzy slippers and got down the bed. you stood at the foot of the bed, aggressively pulling the covers off of them.

“good morning, love,” seungmin said, yawning and rubbing his eyes while sitting up on the bed. he stretched his arms out and his nightshirt rode up, exposing his waist.

in your oh-so-victorian-era-man fashion, you slightly gasped at the sliver of exposed skin.

“you look your best in the mornings. when you don’t speak much.” you said quickly.

he looked up, unbeknownst to what you just witnessed, “but I just woke up.”

“I know what I said.”

jeongin shuffled around and sat up, as seungmin made his way to get ready.

you think they both look really cute in the morning, in a way that you would love to bite them out of cuteness aggression (as a joke, obviously).

“let’s go get ready fast, innie, the stylists would be waiting for us.”

in a few hours, the three of you sat in three identical swivel chairs beside each other, facing the large mirror. the staff’s first mistake was giving you swivel chairs. the second was letting you sit next to each other.

you got our cameras out and started a chaumet-racha vlog (a temporary, but obviously cool racha name).

the three of you moved around a lot for food, and kept getting distracted by one of the stylists’ baby. she said she couldn’t find a babysitter, so she got her baby here at the last minute.

instead of letting her apologise, you thanked her for it, and asked for her permission to pick up the baby.

“oh my god, you’re so cute! what’s your name, little munchkin? oh my god, you’re terribly adorable,” you kept cooing at the baby, moving her around in your arms while your hair was getting styled.

“can she be a part of our vlog? please?” jeongin asked the baby’s mother, and she happily approved, swayed by not-jeongin’s-charm.

you turned on the camera as it faced the baby and you.

“hi again STAY! look who we have here today,” you smiled, lightly nuzzling my forehead with the baby’s. “you’re the cutest baby in the whole world!”

seungmin was watching you with sparkling eyes, as you took care of the baby, who surprisingly didn’t cry even once since you had picked her up.

“have you held babies before, or something?” he asked you.

“…no, seungmin. I have not held babies before.”

“why isn’t she crying?”

“do you want her to?”

“no.”

“then?”

“whatever, you look nice when you’re with children.”

you looked up from the baby and stared at him with wide-eyes. he didn’t look away. you didn’t, either. you could hear the sound of your heart bea—

“oh parents, my parents. please save thy love for a later time.” jeongin said, swooping into the space between us, and stealing the baby away from your hands.

seungmin and you broke eye contact, and the stylists began working again.

jeongin finished his makeup quicker, so he got out of his chair to play with baby. he sat her down on his swivel chair and held her securely before slowly spinning her around.

“does that make you dizzy? or do you not know how dizziness feels since you don’t know the word?” jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, talking to the baby.

seungmin and you were sitting on a nearby couch after you were done, looking at jeongin.

seungmin’s hand was splayed across the back of the couch, close to touching your shoulder.

he dropped his arm to curl around your neck gently.

“it feels like watching our child playing with his younger sister,” he sighed.

“PARENTS! no public display of affection!” jeongin yelled from afar, covering the baby’s eyes. “do not show my shayla all of this!”

“his shayla?” seungmin asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“it’s a tiktok thing. you wouldn’t know.”

he huffed, wrapping his arm tighter around you. more secure. more safe.

“bt the way… you look really pretty already. the dress is going to look even better on you than on that mannequin,” he said quietly, laying his head on your shoulder.

“thanks. the vest is going to have STAY going crazy too.”

“what about you?”

“huh?”

“would you go crazy too?”

“…yeah.”

the company let you rent a limousine for the event.

as you made your way through the roads, the driver passed the aux back to you.

you played one of your playlists on shuffle, and it landed on ‘birds of a feather’ by billie eilish. you had planned to start a karaoke session on the way to the event, so you pointed at seungmin to start with this song.

his angelic voice harmonised with billie’s. the shadows on his face highlighted his cheekbones perfectly. pairing his voice and looks, it felt like he was angel who fell on earth.

you zoned out, staring at him. you could only hear him, nothing else. he stared right back at you as he continued singing.

“birds of a feather,

we should stick together, I know,

till the day that I die.”

the next song was ‘I wanna be yours’ by arctic monkeys, which you called dibs on.

seungmin watched as you sang along to the song with your entire heart in it. it was almost as if you were singing the song with someone in mind.

“secrets I have held in my heart,

are harder to hide than I thought.

maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.”

he looked at you with deep devotion, as if you were the one who hung up the moon and stars. in his eyes, you were a goddess sent to earth.

the songs continued one after the other, and the three of you took turns singing all sorts of songs (though you skipped all of your own songs): ‘take me to church’ by hozier, ‘I wanna be your slave’ by maneskin, ‘bouncy’ by ateez, ‘moonstruck’ by enhypen, and so many more.

you decided on the last song together, for all three of you to sing together for your vlog: ‘blue’ by yung kai.

your voices blended in harmony, creating an almost-ethereal music.

you propped up your camera with the help of the opposite seat as you all sang.

“i’ll imagine we fell in love,

i’ll nap under moonlight skies with you.

I think i’ll picture us, you with the waves,

the ocean’s colours on your face.

i’ll leave my heart with your air,

so let me fly with you.

will you be forever with me?”

you ended the recording a little early because you were nearing the event venue and the stylists had some last minute touch-ups to finish in the vehicle.

you could see the flashing cameras and the red carpet through the tinted window.

seungmin laid his hand gently over yours, and intertwined your fingers.

“all three of us will be together today. don’t worry, and enjoy your time today,” he reassured you.

you nodded as your heart slowed down slightly. “where’d the teasing go, mr. minnie?” you smirked at him.

he groaned, throwing a hand over his face.

“don’t go around saying stuff like that,” he comlains as you laugh.

“yeah? why not?”

“it makes me feel… things.”

“mm? good things? or bad?” you raised your eyebrows smugly.

“very good things.” he smiled slightly.

“shut up.” your heart raced.

“whatever you say.” he nodded, still holding your hand tightly as the vehicle stopped.

jeongin cleared his throat loudly. “i’m not staying with you guys tonight. you’re far too old and disgustingly in love.”

neither of you denied the statement, and your gaze slid to where you held each other.

you took a deep breath, and the door opened. flashes sounded, and fans screamed. it was like stepping into a new world, away from the comforts of your boys.

but one thing remained the same: kim seungmin.

jeongin stepped out before you. reporters started screaming, asking him to look at them.

“sir! how does it feel to be called the 4th gen fashion star, jeongin?”

“jeongin! look here!”

“jeongin-ah, you look stunning, as always! please smile this way!”

you smiled to yourself.

next, seungmin stepped out. the reporters roared again.

“seungmin! can you tell us about any collaborations?”

“mr. kim! please look this way! do you have a girlfriend?”

“how do you think this event will go, seungmin?”

you chuckled loudly this time.

seungmin stepped a little to the side of the door, and extended his arm to help you out.

as soon as you stepped outside, you couldn’t see anything except white flashes and seungmin’s face.

fans screamed from the sides, who you couldn’t see or hear before. you smiled at them and bowed your head a little, thanking them for coming.

“miss y/n! how does it feel being the only girl in an otherwise all-boys group?”

“y/n! what’s your next comeback? could you give us a little spoiler?”

“this way! here! y/n!”

you locked eyes with seungmin, did your secret handshake that you had prepared for the next comeback’s choreography, and started laughing together. the nearby reporters also began to chuckle at you both.

you walked into the venue after waving to some fans. with jeongin lost already (you had his live location), you both decided to stick together for the night, unless you had to interact with someone specifically.

just like you three, sunghoon from enhypen and yeji from itzy were invited as well.

your eyes widened as you made eye contact with sunghoon, your bias from one of your ult groups, one of your old friends.

seungmin followed your gaze, and then rolled his eyes. he leaned down to whisper into your ear in a low voice.

“you look stunning tonight, my love.”

your eyes snapped back to seungmin.

you looked up at him as he slightly towered over you, even if you wore heels.

he leaned down again, and this time you could feel his breath on your ear.

“it’s amazing having a best friend as fine as you. my stargirl.”

this time, a shiver visibly ran down your spine. “if i’m your stargirl, that just means you’ll be my starboy, no?” you whispered.

he smiled to himself and nodded quietly, smiling down at you.

sunghoon was long forgotten, just how seungmin had hoped. he smiled at you, in that evil way of his.

you rolled your eyes. “go grab a drink or something, you scheming minion. i’m going to go talk to yeji there.” you pointed.

he nodded, still smirking, and sauntered away as you walked to yeji.

“my favourite hyunjin’s-best-friend!” she rejoiced.

“my favourite hwang sibling!” you screamed.

you hugged each other quickly. another idol slipped yeji a glass of something to drink, and seungmin did the same for you. as he passed the glass to you, your hands brushed and his gaze lingered for a second too long on you.

yeji and you were pulled away for an interview with someone famous, who was asking you both to talk about what you were wearing today.

yeji went first, describing her all-black outfit, in contrast to your all-white one. you followed suit, reciting all the brands whose products you were wearing.

[ yeji’s outfit . y/n’s outfit ]

you ended your interview with a little bonus for the fans.

“and lastly, I also have something that isn’t of any official brand.” you held up your wrist. seungmin’s thin silver bracelet glinted under the golden light. “one of my members gave me a bracelet they made, before we came to paris, and that’s what I have on my hand right now!”

the interviewer gasped and aw’ed at you.

you felt seungmin staring at the back of your head from a short distance away.

“nice bracelet,” he worded. you read his lips, and smiled.

the interviewer, yeji, and you shared some words and gossips off-record, and then you excused yourself to get to seungmin.

“what’s with the glare?” you asked him.

“that enhypen guy,” he said, clenching his jaw. “he keeps trying to smile and wave at you.”

“you mean sunghoon? my bias? my friend from before my trainee days? that hoon?” you stated, tilting your head slightly.

he peeled his eyes off sunghoon and narrowed them at you. he scoffed, rolling his eyes, going back to typical seungmin behaviour again.

soon, hushed whispers of cha eun-woo’s name floated around the room.

you immediately got excited, ready to meet the other brand ambassador of chaumet himself.

as you made eye contact with him, you began walking towards him. seungmin followed you quietly.

“hi! y/n y/l/n from stray kids, right?” eun-woo asked, bowing a little and holding his hand out to shake yours.

“ah, yes,” you smiled warmly at him, shaking his hand. “I didn’t think i’d meet you already,” you continued nervously.

“what do you mean? you should get used to this! we have so many photo shoots lined up for this year,” he said happily.

seungmin’s eyes widened. you did?

“you have solo shoots with him, pretty?” he whispered in your ear as eun-woo looked away. you turned your neck to met his gaze and narrowed them.

“yes.”

he rolled his eyes. “we don’t get half as many photoshoots with you that other artists collectively do.”

“it’s almost as if i’m famous,” you gasped in mock-surprise, swatting his chest.

at some point in the night, under the red lights and some questionable music, seungmin and you left to a more secluded part of the venue.

you were both slightly drunk, but not enough to not know what was going on around you.

as soon as you reached a discreet corridor, he pulled you against the wall.

“it’s been so hard, just watching you the whole night, being unable to keep my hands off you. you look so beautiful, my sweet girl,” he whispered, his hands on either side of your head caging you between the wall and him.

you inhaled his cologne, and relished the scent that reminded you of home.

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, leaning dangerously closer to him. “the way you just sassed your way through the interview, and doing nothing when those women were putting their hands all over you.”

“it wasn’t all over me, just my arm,” he teased.

“still counts,” you said in a low voice. “just kept pissing me off—”

“can I kiss you?”

“‘course you can. but I just need one chance to wipe that smirk off her face though—”

he wrapped his fingers around your throat, and his other hand pulled you closer by your waist as he kissed you.

you were reminded of how your first kiss was with seungmin, when you were both 17. you both wanted to try it out, but didn’t have partners. besides, you were just best friends, so it was fine. right?

but now, you weren’t sure if you could call each other just best friends.

“jagi,” he murmured against your mouth, pulling away a little.

you grabbed the collar of his vest, fingers brushing against his neck. “shut up.” you pulled him into another rough kiss.

his hand travelled to the slit in your dress. his warm hand rested on the skin of your thigh. in return, your cold fingers curled through his neat hair, dishevelling it.

“this isn’t a one-time thing. at all,” he said, pulling away.

“I know.”

he kissed you deeply again, but this time it was much softer than before. it was a kiss filled with the promise of love.

“I don’t believe in forever,” he started.

“but just this moment, being with you,” you continued.

“I want to believe in eternity with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles, maintaining eye contact.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he said, face illuminated under the moonlight. “and i’m never letting you go.”

“ever.”

you locked pinkies in the quiet promise of eternal love.

ꗃ﹕ bonus . . .

“everyone get up! let’s run through the dance one last time,” chan called out to the tired members lying on the floor.

everyone gathered in their spots, except for hyunjin and han.

chan stalked over to them, where they were huddled watching something on minho’s phone, giggling like little school children.

chan leaned over them to get a look at the screen.

it was a fan edit of two of his members—seungmin and y/n, to weeknd’s song ‘starboy’ mashed with the ‘stargirl interlude’. the audio synced with y/n saying the word “starboy” to seungmin, and him calling her “stargirl”. the clips were fan-taken at the chaumet event, which made chan chuckle as well.

“I guess they finally realised who the other’s life-long crush was,” he muttered to himself, dragging hyunjin and han by their ears to their practice positions.

62 notes · View notes

ghosty-writes-23 · 1 day ago

Text

The Ghost Of You. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, Mental Health, Depression, Porn With Plot, Desperation, Longing, Guilt, Soft!Leon, Slight Hesitation, Eating out, Consensual Sex, P in V, !Wrap It Before You Tap It!, I'm Not Coming Home Pt. 2.

Pairing: RE4R!Leon + Ex!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: After 6 long painful years of grief, pain and suffering you came face to face with the impossible, Leon was alive and somewhat okay, you were overwhelmed with emotions ranging from anger and betrayal to happiness and desire to see that your Leon was alive, and that was how you two ended up in a hotel room stripping off each other’s drenched clothing, as the old spark between you two was reignited as if it never left even after all these years.

Word Count: 4.2k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello my lovelies, I’m so sorry this took me so long to write and an even bigger sorry to the person that requested for this and waited so long, I had been kind of in a writer’s block space and going through some personal stuff but I am slowly getting back into writing, I even listening to some music while writing this and couldn’t help but thing the rhythm to Flesh by Simon Curtis was the perfect rhythm to describe Leon’s thrust rhythm in this story, I’ll link the song below if anybody wants to check it out. Thank you so much for reading and there is more to come in the future.

(If a text is leaning like This, it means it’s a flashback.)

----------

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

----------

September 30th, 1998, the worst day of your life you lost your Leon….

You world changed since that day your shared bedroom still smelt like his cologne you brought him every year that he always forgot to put the cap back on after using it, his hoodie still hanging on the end of the bed post as if he will be back to collect it or put it away after you scold him for not putting his dirty clothes in the laundry bin beside the door.

“Leon put your clothes in the laundry basket.” You playfully scold him as were leaning against the door frame of your shared bedroom. “I will just..” he says before he tosses his hoodie at the basket but it caught on the end bedpost causing a soft laugh to leave your lips. “good thing you’re a cop and not a basketball player.” You playfully tease him before he pulled you onto him causing you to squeal softly as you landed on top of him. “you wound me Y/n.” Leon says with a playful pout, but you just smiled at him before you kissed him.

As the memory flashed in your eyes a sad smile came onto your face as tears welled up in your eyes, grabbing the hoodie you were going to put it in the basket but you brought the hoodie up to your nose and inhaled, as the familiar scent of his cologne, fabric softer that Leon claimed made his clothes smell like warm summer day and something that was uniquely Leon tears started to run down your face and soaking into the fabric.

The dam broke as sob left your lips as your grip on the hoodie tightened, it wasn’t a neat or quiet cry it was the kind that felt as if your ribs had caved in your chest, that made your throat tighten and breaths come out in choked gasps.

“I can’t do this without you Leon.” You gasped through your sobs as your voice broke and squeaked. “We had plans, you where going to propose, you promised me forever not this.” You cried as you tried to control your breathing knowing if you didn’t calm down soon you would have a panic attack.

Curling in on yourself you pulled your knees to your chest as you clung to Leon’s old hoodie, the ache inside you body was dense and heavy the grief didn’t scream in your head, but it dragged in your mind with each passing moment, you hate the sun for rising, the air continuing to move around you and world expect going as if nothing had happen while you had just lost your world.

Soon There was soft footsteps padding into your bedroom, you didn’t have the energy in your body to even look up but when you smelt a familiar sweet and floral perfume you knew it was your mother, she must of rushed over this morning.

“Oh, baby mom’s here.”

Your mother cooed before she wrapped her arms around you from behind but firm as if she was holding the broken pieces of you together, you collapsed into her embrace as another fresh wave of sobs broke past your lips. Your mother didn’t say anything which you were grateful for as she started to gently stroke your hair, as she rocked back and forth slightly like she did when you came to her as a child after having a nightmare, but sadly this nightmare was real and your mother couldn’t make this one go away or protect you from it.

“He was a good kid Leon was, selfless and warm.” Your mother whispered softly as she placed a gently kiss on your forehead as she was still gently rocking you. “He was a part of this family, and he always will be.” Your mother spoke as shakey breaths left your lips as you breathing was slowly coming down.

“It hurts mom.” You whispered softly, your voice was rough and dry from all the crying. “I know darling it’s going to hurt for a while but promise your father and I will always be there to help you with whatever you need.” You mom reassured you which made you feel a little better but not a whole lot. “We weren’t meant to grow old together, have kids and get married.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Your mom’s voice cracked as she tightened her grip on you and her fingers never left your hair. You both stayed like this for hours curled up on your bed with the curtains drawn, even though the would outside the room didn’t stop with cars driving down the road, children laughing and playing outside and birds chirping, but in the bedroom time did still for a moment, the pain in your chest was there but with your mothers affection it was slowly dulling.

Years Later.

It was the kind of made the world warm even though it was cold outside, golden, yellow and red hue coloured leaves decorating the roads, pavements and streets. The scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice lattes where a stable scent in café’s at this time of year.

Autumn was always Leon’s favourite season, he loved jumping into piles of leaf’s which would then cause you to have to pluck them out of his hair as if he was a messy puppy with his big and bright blue eyes looking up at you with warmth and affection that would always melt your heart.

You hadn’t been back to town since Leon’s funeral it was a very small service but you were grateful people came out, you got to meet some of his friends from the police academy and some friends you shared in your friend group. You moved out of town not long after you needed to get away from everything a fresh start but you always held Leon in your heart, his ring sat against your chest on a chain you never took it off and haven’t dated anybody new since their was only one man for you.

The reason you were back in town is because your sister was getting married, but there was dull ache in your chest as you walked down the familiar streets, she would have changed the wedding venue but you knew how much she wanted to get married at the church here because of the beautiful views and it was a beautiful church itself and you didn’t want your sister to miss out.

Currently you where sat in a small café, it was an old one you and Leon used to visit when he would drop you off for your morning classes, when you were still half asleep because you missed your alarms and rushed to get everything ready in time without being late. A warm cup of coffee was between your hands but it was mostly untouched.

It was a caramel latte with extra caramel Leon always had a massive sweet tooth which would cause a lot of trips to the dentist for tooth aches, but yet he never lessen his sugar intake claiming “I’m a big boy and don’t need adult supervision.” Yet whine when his teeth where aching because he ate to much sour straps.

The world move outside, slow and quiet with leaves tumbling from the trees like burnt paper falling to the ground, then being crushed by either somebody stepping on them or by a car tire, but as your eyes watched life past by a set of eyes caught your attention, they belonged to a man across the road he was wearing a long black coat and a grey scarf.

His legs where crossed as he sat outside reading the paper he looked exhausted with bags under his eyes and his skin was a little gaunt as if he wasn’t taking care of himself or overworking himself, his dark blonde hair fell in front of his eyes caused by a soft breeze which made your heart clench slightly as if it knew this man.

But when he titled his head up as a waitress came over to him you felt all the air escape your lungs. “No it can’t you.” You choked out softly as your fingers started to tremble around your glass, your heart tightening in your chest slowly you stood up and made your way outside your coffee forgotten about as you walked over to the man.

There was no way after all this time your mind was playing tricks on you. Crossing the road you where only a couple steps away from him, you heard him curse about the cold weather before you took a deep breath, deep down you kind of hoped it was your mind playing tricks on you and this wasn’t the man that had been haunting your dream for years, that slipped through your fingers.

Before you could get any words out he looked at you and his eyes widened slightly as if he never expected to see you here, he coughed slightly before he stood up you froze on the spot before he came towards you his steps purposeful before his body crashed against yourself and his arms wrapped around you tightly in a bone crushing hug.

“L-Leon.” You choked out as you where trying your hardness to not cry again, but it was so hard when this man felt like your Leon. “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” The man spoke before he pulled away slightly and when you looked up at his face and you knew in that moment this man was your Leon, you broke down into a loud sob as you clung to him tightly your hands digging into the fabric of his coat but you could feel him holding your body close to his.

“Your alive.” You say against his chest as he rubbed your back with his hand as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear to try and calm you down. “I know explain to do and I want to tell you, but I just can’t not yet.” Leon says but you silenced him by kissing him hard, there was nothing gentle about the kiss it was raw, rough nearly borderline painful as if years of grief and pain mixed with desperation and desire for one and another. You devoured Leon as if his kisses where oxygen and not in the middle of the street but lucky it was mostly empty today because of the weather.

You felt Leon’s hand trail down to your jawline as if he was holding you with the outmost care and tenderness as you were sure both of your lips would be bruised and puffy when you pulled away from the kiss. You moaned into the kiss and tightened your grip on his coat, scared that if you let go he will disappear or that this was a dream that you never wanted to wake up from. Your tears started to mix into the kiss before you felt Leon wipe them away with his thumb before breaking the kiss leaving you both panting.

“You’re an asshole.” You whispered softly before Leon just nodded his head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I know I had no choice.” He spoke as he was still gently rubbing your cheek softly. “I suffered because of you, cried for you.” You say to him, and he nodded a pained look on his face. “I know and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you Y/n cross my heart I will, if you will let me.” Leon says as he pulls you into an alley, his back was against the brick wall as he pulled you against him.

Then his lips found yours again, expect this time the kiss was different it was more slow, gentle as he cradled your head as his hands went into your head, you melted into the kiss instantly your eyes fluttered closed and you let him take the lead of the kiss as your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. His other had was mapping out your body as if he never forgot what made you trick and shudder. When you felt his cold hand on the bare skin of your back you gasped softly and arched your back slightly.

“I missed that sound.” Leon groaned softly against your lips before his lips trailed down your neck placing soft and gentle kisses. “I dreamt of touching you again, hearing your whimpers and moans.” Leon mumbled softly against your neck causing a soft whimper to leave your lips. “Leon…” you breathed out his name as you gently tugged on his hair so he would look at you, he looked at you with slightly puffy and bruised lips, his pupils where blow wide but they still held that warm and affectionate look that made your heart melt every time.

“if you disappear again or make me thing you’re dead, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” You softly threaten him, and this caused him to chuckle softly as he rested his head on the top of your chin. “yes ma’am.” He said with a laugh, but you knew that he knew you weren’t joking not after this time, but for the first time in 6 years your heart finally felt a little lighter and your mind was finally slient and not filled with guilt and grief, you felt like you could actually breath.

A Little Later.

By the time you and Leon stumbled into the GlassLane hotel foyer you were both drenched, Leon’s coat you were wearing was now sticking to your body like a second skin and your hair sticking to your face, Leon’s t-shirt was almost shrink wrapped over his body letting you see every detail from his well built physic to some new scars you could see on his body causing you to frown slightly. The woman at the front desk just gave you a friendly smile as she handed over the key after Leon paid before you could protest.

Room 208….

You two didn’t even make it to the elevator to go to the second floor before your hands where on each other again, lips clashing together and if you where devouring each other as the elevator door opened, Leon gently pressed you in and pushed you up against the wall as he pressed the button for the second floor without breaking the kiss.

As you both stumbled into the hotel room your breaths where ragged as you both where pulling at each other’s clothing, as the door finally closed behind you Leon gently pressed you against it using his body, your arms instantly wrapped around his neck as he gently tugged off his coat you were wearing, then started to unbutton the top you were wearing, his movements were a little clumsy before he got a little frustrated before he grabbed the sides of the shirt and ripped as if it was paper, buttons flying on the ground as you gasped softly.

“Leon.” You scold him but he shushed you by kissing you and gently rolled his tongue into your mouth causing a soft noise to leave your lips as your cheeks coloured. Your own hands tugged off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room, a shiver ran down your body when you felt the cold breeze on your wet skin.

When you felt Leon’s lips on your neck his hand’s gently tapped the back of your thighs, you instantly wrapped your legs around his hips as he lifted you up with ease then he walked over to the bed.

You fell with a soft thud before you looked up at Leon breathing heavily, his cheeks were coloured slightly pink as his breath came out in soft pants, you wanted to cover up it had been so long since Leon saw you naked and somethings didn’t look as ‘youthful’ as they used too, but when Leon kneeled down you went up on your elbows to watch him.

He look your right leg and started to place gentle kisses on the wet fabric but it sent small little shocks up your body, each kiss was soft and slow as he trailed them higher and once he reached your hips, he did the same with the left leg. You had to bit your lip to keep a moan from leaving your lips, as you felt Leon’s kisses trailing up your hips to your stomach.

“Can I take these off.” Leon asked as you felt his hand’s on your pants, you nodded your head giving him your consent, your body was almost buzzing at the feeling of his hands on your body. Carefully he unbuckled your belt and then popped the button to your pants then slowly slid them down leaving you in your panties and bra, as well as the ripped sheds of your shirt.

“God your still so beautiful.” Leon groaned softly as he looked at you, the look in his eyes made you blush even more, you weren’t as skinny as you used to be but lately you had been starting to go back to the gym since your therapist thought some physical activity would be great for your mental health. “Leon.” You were about to protest but he shook his head as he placed a soft kiss on your stomach, his hand’s either side of your hips almost holding you in place.

“I love you just the way you are, we are human we aren’t going to look like we did when we were younger, but seeing you like this makes me want you even more.” Leon says as he placed open mouth kisses and soft little nips. Your fingers went into his dirty blonde hair and softly tugged causing him to groan softly as he leant into your touch with a soft rumble, while your other hand trailed down his back feeling the new scars and bumps as you tried to memorize it, you hand followed the muscle shape and lines, your touch gentle.

Soon you felt Leon’s tongue gently glide over your clothed folds causing a muffled moan to leave your lips as your nails dug into his back causing him to groan at the painful sensation. “Leon..” his name left your lips as your body tensed up, but Leon just smiled and gently laced his fingers with yours and softly squeezed.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I got you.” He whispers before he uses his other hand to gently pull your panties to the side revealing your slick folds, you felt embarrassed because of how you wet you were, but it had been so long since somebody touch you.

Leon placed a soft kiss on your clit causing you to arch you back a little, your grip on his hair instantly tightening, but Leon welcomed the pain before he ran the flat of his tongue up your folds, your thighs tensed up around his head. His tongue gently circled your clit before he teasingly lap at your entrance. When he would tease soft whimpers would leave your lips and when he gave in soft moans would leave your lips.

When you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach you gently tugged on his hair, causing Leon to pull away his face was covered in your slick, his pupils were blown wide and he almost had a love drunk look on his face as there was a soft blush on his cheeks, how could somebody look so dirty yet so innocent at the same time.

“Why did you stop me baby.” Leon asked in an almost breathless whine, his breathing was heavy as he looked up at you not even bothering to wipe his face. “want to touch you too.” You managed to say before a small almost goofy look came onto his face. “as much as I want that, it’s been 6 years since I last tasted you.” Leon purred as he placed a soft lazy kiss on your pubic bone, you pouted slightly before soft moans left your lips as Leon leaned his head back down and as he slid his tongue back inside your entrance he gently squeezed your hand.

“Leoooon.” You whined softly but he just chuckled against your folds and just pulled you closer by your thighs to a point you were almost suffocating him. But when you would try and pull away he would just pull you closer to him. It wasn’t long before your back was arching off the bed as Leon’s name fell from your lips as you came on his tongue, to which he greedy lapped it up, when he finally pulled away he trailed kisses up your body, then captured your lips in a soft kiss.

You could taste yourself as his tongue rolled against yours, causing you to blush even more. When you finally broke the kiss Leon rested his forehead against yours. “We can stop of you want; we don’t have to..” Leon trailed off but you silenced him by pressing a soft kiss to his lips then leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed out a condom. Leon just smiled at you and kissed your forehead before he took the packet from you as you undid his belt and took his pants off, stripping him with the same carefulness he had done with you.

Once he was bare you took the condom packet from him and rolled it onto his cock, which you couldn’t help but think was bigger since the last time you saw it. “Your staring.” Leon says with a teasing tone to which you just playfully rolled your eyes before you laid on your stomach on the bed, not before Leon placed a pillow under your hips to make you more comfortable. There was a little bit of shuffling behind you before you felt Leon pressing his hips to the back of your ass.

“You Ready.” Leon asked you looking back over your shoulder you nodded your head as you bit your bottom lip as you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance before he slowly started to push inside, inch by inch. His hand gripped the pillow by your head, and you could see the muscle and veins bulging as his fingers gripped into the soft material.

“Fuck Y/n.” Leon hissed, the sound of his voice caused you to clench around him, as he finally bottomed out inside of you, your gummy walls were fluttering around him and trying to pull him deeper. “Please move.” You whined softly you needed some kind of friction. Leon let out a ragged breath before he started to move his hips in a lazy roll at first, pulling soft moans and mews from you as you pushed your hips back against him, the pillow causing Leon to hit a certain angle when he fully bottomed out.

You where gripping the pillow under your head as you could feel your eyes rolling in the back of your head, you had forgotten how pleasurable sex was, you had tried once a couple of years after Leon’s ‘death’ but it just didn’t feel the same it didn’t feel this good.

“Faster Leon please.” You softly begged him, you let out a little squeal when he gripped your hips but that soon died down as Leon picked the pace and your moans and his grunts filled the room, you could almost see stars in your eyes as you felt your orgasm approaching as Leon was constantly hitting your sweetspot, as you started to tighten and clench around him. You turned your head and captured Leon’s lips in a kiss swallowing his grunts and groans as he pounded into you could feel him twitch with every thrust, he was close.

Gently nibbling on his bottom lip Leon groaned as he moved his hips faster and soon the knot in your stomach snapped as you came around him with a muffled cry, your body trembled as your back arched against him, he soon followed as he spilled into the condom with a muffled grunt against your lips. After a couple moments and the trembling subsided in your body Leon slowly pulled out and placed a kiss on your shoulder before he went to deal with the condom.

Watching him you finally got a good look at him, he definitely looked older but not a youthful older but a tired and worn out older, there was a new scar on his cheek that didn’t look older then a couple of days, but his body was littered with new scars and even some bruises that you only saw now but as you where going to say something Leon smiled and shook his head.

“We can talk about it later, but for now we are going to enjoy this moment okay.” Leon says as he slides back into bed and pulls you against his chest. “Okay but don’t think I am letting this go.” You says causing him to chuckle softly but his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “I know sweetheart.” He says as he kissed your forehead.

And for the first time in years, you both felt at peace in each other’s arms, you were finally home and it was going to take a while to figure everything out but you would finally be okay, you both would be….

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

54 notes · View notes

hisvelvetfur · 12 hours ago

Text

🌎 𝐼 ' 𝐷 𝑅 𝐴 𝑇 𝐻 𝐸 𝑅 𝐵 𝐸 𝑊 𝐼 𝑇 𝐻 𝑌 𝑂 𝑈

𝑇 𝐻 𝐴 𝑁 𝐴 𝑁 𝑌 𝐻 𝑈 𝑀 𝐴 𝑁 𝑂 𝑁 𝐸 𝐴 𝑅 𝑇 𝐻 🌎

𝐴 𝑂 𝑁 𝐸 - 𝑆 𝐻 𝑂 𝑇

pairing: 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗑 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

prompt: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆

word count: 𝟤,𝟣𝟥𝟣

warnings: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍

the author’s note: 𝖮𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝖨𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖥𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

tags: @xobunni0

ᴛɪᴍᴇ // 1:57 ᴀᴍ

ᴇɴᴛʀʏ // 34

It was another night in the cold lab. When I entered the room, he was there, staring at the moon from the glass. His eyes crossed mine as I laid my hand against his tube. He then laid his on top of mine. This was our new normal. In this chilling laboratory, it was only us that kept the warmth.

“I’m scared.” I said as I pretended to caress his hand with the tips of my fingers.

“We’ve done this so many times in the last few months. But every time I let you out, I feel on edge.”

Shadow, didn’t say a word. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on me.

With a deep breath, I took a step towards the keypad of the incubator. Laying my hand gently on the buttons. My fingertips, feeling the brail lettering as it triggered my nerves.

Then, I pressed in the password.

10 digits. That unlocked him, from his prison.

As the glass shield lifted up, Shadow began walking towards the window. I followed him. My hands were shaking.

“Why is he silent?” I thought.

Did I say something wrong to him? Is he okay?

I laid my hand on his shoulder for reassurance. The tender fur brushed on my fingertips. Shadow’s eyes were fixated on the moon, until, they shifted to the ground.

His voice, finally, spoke,

“If only they knew. What’s happening between us. The things that we have done here. The things that, only people of your kind can do with one another. But between us, it’s…” Shadow sighed.

His eyes then closed as he took a breath in. His fingers, beginning to fidget with the red cuffs of his gloves.

My heart sank. I knew what he meant. We both knew that the feelings between each other were wrong. Something in this world, in this lifetime, that is looked down upon. Two species that were different. That wanted each other.

That were truly, in love with each other.

Behind a glass tube, that stood over 12 foot 2, was where he was kept. My colleagues, warning me, that he was a threat. That he could possibly destroy the earth. That he was so powerful. And so dangerous.

A black hedgehog. Mixed with alien DNA. With red oval eyes, streaks, and quills that were tilted upwards.

A peculiar thing he was when I first saw him. With those wires, stuck to his bloodstream. I felt sorry for him.

“Shadow… is that your name?”

I asked him the first time we spoke. Unenthusiastically, he replied,

“….what do you expect my name to be?”

He was…

very distant.

But then, weeks later, our connection grew. And that distance between us, started to dissipate. We spoke night after night, with the glass separating us. Things that were only secret to us.

“You know, you’re the only human here that I find… tolerable.”

“Really?”

“…..yes.”

I’ll never forget the night I opened up his glass case. I was able to remember the password to the incubator by my colleague during one of his health checks. A 10 digit code that I wrote in the palm of my hand.

And that same night, I released him from the case.

Feeling his fur for the first time, was like touching an angel.

“Your fur. It feels like velvet.”

Feeling each other, it was so… foreign.

“I never realized how small your hands are.”

Shadow holding my hand for the very first time was like touching something so ethereal. So otherworldly. So godly. And he was exactly that.

When we finally embraced each other, there was so much darkness. A kind of pain that I couldn’t understand.

“I haven’t been…… touched like this, in a very…. very long time.” Shadow confessed.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” I asked.

He closed his eyes.

“……..decades ago.”

Shadow took my hand and raised it to his cheek.

“…….hug me again.”

And then, that same night, our lips finally touched.

“….soft.” Shadow whispered as he parted his lips against mine. His fingers, gently caressing the side of my waist.

Looking deep into those crimson eyes, I never knew what falling in love felt like. Until, when my eyes met his.

“….promise me….” Shadow’s lips were against mine.

“….to not tell….. anyone.”

“….our secret….” I mouthed.

“….our freedom….” His lips, melted into mine.

Shadow and I became something more than anything we could ever imagine. It was a bond. A bond stronger than any vein in the body. And no person, no amount of hate, could amputate us apart.

Humanity. Keeping me away from someone so pure. So different. And so beautiful. He was like an apple in the Garden of Eden. But instead, he was kept in a glass case.

It was in that moment, I couldn’t lay my eyes on another human being the same way ever again.

Shadow ruined me. Not just for other men, but for love. He became the only person, the only being, the only entity I wanted to be with. And it was then I truly could not let him stay behind the glass any longer.

Our bodies, both different, but craved the same desire. To merge.

It happened nearly every night. I risked my safety and my reputation to see him. We were each other’s secret. My heart belonged to a being that wasn’t human. But he felt like one. He was an alien. An alien that felt more human, than any human on earth.

If only they knew. How many nights we dreamt of being in each other’s arms. Embracing each other, feeling the differences of our bodies against each other. If only they knew, what we did in that lab nearly every night while they were asleep.

He got to feel how my skin felt against his warm fur. The way how large his hands were on my waist. Our arms locked around each other. And the feeling of our mouths savoring every second, with the fear, of someone finding us.

“I’d rather be with you than any human on this planet.”

I remember whispering to him. He let out a deep exhale and took in those words as a promise, as a devotion.

And it was the truth.

He kept a long distaste for humanity. And I understood why. But for me, he saw something that was rare. But also familiar. While distant to many, his loyalty to me was sacred. And he never dared to break it.

“Long ago, my will to live was stolen from me. But you, you made me feel….. alive again.”

I wanted the touch of his fur more than any human skin. I wanted the softness of his kiss more than any human’s lips. I wanted the sharpness of his quills more than any human hair.

“I don’t want anybody’s hands but yours.”

His hands were warmer than any touch. Warmer than any heat that my body has ever experienced. The way his hands were over 3 times the size of mine. The texture of his white leather gloves, as I caressed every grain. And contrasting the coolness of his inhibitor rings.

He was more beautiful, than any human I have ever laid my eyes on.

It was so forbidden. So wrong to love him.

“It feels so wrong to love you….”

“……but I just…..”

Shadow pulled me into his arms.

“…….I know…”

But in those crimson eyes… it was all I ever wanted.

It was so wrong.

But it felt so right.

“Shadow…” His name escaping my lips.

Even his name, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yes?” He looked at me with those eyes. Half opened. Taking my hand in his and reaching for my waist. Towering me. My hand then touched his chest as I massaged my fingers into his white fur.

“What would you do… if they found out. If they tried to harm me?”

The question sank into his chest. The thought triggered him for a brief moment. The feeling of him losing me. There was nothing more haunting, than reliving the loss of someone he loved, trusted, and cared for once again.

He cupped my face into his palm and moved even closer to me. His mouth reached to my ear and whispered, “You know I would protect you.”

My Shadow. Kept me safe in my darkest of moments. He was always there to hold me, to bandage me, to make sure I was safe. And no human on this earth ever did.

A danger to the earth.

Never. He could never.

A princess, I felt in those hands.

And he was my prince.

My protector.

My forbidden lover.

“You’re so beautiful. The earth doesn’t deserve someone as beautiful as you.” Shadow cupped my face as I leaned into his touch.

Every flaw that every human man saw in me on this planet, he loved. I was a masterpiece in his eyes. An exotic flower waiting to be picked from a garden. A star shining brighter than any light in the sky.

And he was always beside me. Like a shadow.

The coldness of earth. The cruelty. He understood more than I ever could. Even when he appeared distant, unemotional, and completely detached, there was warmth. In those oval crimson eyes, I felt it. That tenderness. I only saw it, when we were alone.

“Shadow, why are you like this only with me?”

“It’s because I trust you. And I rarely trust anyone.”

He never dared to raise his voice at me. Or judge me. He accepted my flaws, as much as I accepted his.

“You’re like me. In a lot of ways…”

As he laid a kiss on me one last time. His eyes sank in with an inch of fear.

“Before they find us, lock me back in.” Shadow whispered. I then held on to his hand tightly. Massaging the leather of his white glove. To remember, what he felt like, before leaving.

I was unable to let him go.

“Shadow, I-I can’t.” I whispered. Cupping my face, he leaned in closer, our mouths, inches apart once again.

“You have to… I don’t want to lose you.

Like I lost-”

There was a moment of silence.

“….”

“…..”

“….…..Ma-.”

His face sank into my shoulder. Kneeling to the ground, his nose rubbed against me. With his arms, wrapped around my waist.

My voice cracked suddenly as I whispered to him,

“I would die for you. In this moment. In any moment, I would die for you. I would die for our love. As long as I have your hand in mine, my lips against yours, I would take a bullet… to be with you.”

Shadow, lifting himself from my shoulder, feeling his weight raise from me, his eyes, for the very first time, watered.

The first tear fell from his muzzle. I then took my finger and tried to wipe it away, until, he stopped me.

He took my hand.

“I-“ Shadow paused.

I didn’t respond. My eyes, lingering to his.

He leaned in closer to me. His lips brushing mine.

“………”

“…….”

“….”

Never, could I even imagine, the vulnerability of Shadow’s own words could pierce through me, when he finally said:

“I…….. I love you.”

The vibration of his voice, his words, of complete devotion. I felt it. On my lips. Every frequency, every momentum, every beat of emotion that he had in his heart.

He loved me.

He truly loved me.

Shadow’s lips, then fell into mine.

And we stayed there. Like if we weren’t on earth, imagining like it was far behind us, in the distance of space, and we, were on another planet, on another wavelength, as we expressed the love, that no human, could ever, understand.

Once I closed the lab door, I touched my lips. Feeling the last few seconds of his mouth against mine before drifting away.

And he did the same.

My heart sank, whispering to myself, with tears in my eyes,

“…… Sha…”

Weeping.

“…dow…”

His name, cracking through my vocal cords. His name breaking apart, in the same way, how deeply I wanted to break the glass case.

As I rushed to the next door, with my footsteps clashing against the metal floors, I collapsed. My hand, so weak and damp from my tears as I held on to the wall.

Oh I loved him.

I loved him.

Staring into the moon, Shadow became detached once again. Missing my presence, my touch, my voice, everything.

We were both separated by the glass. The walls. The norms that we couldn’t control.

But I loved him.

And he loved me.

Like forbidden fruit, he tasted like freedom.

But most of all, love.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #sonic the hedgehog

33 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 12 Into the woods

Chapter 12 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- okay but I kinda really love how this chapter turned out.

Warning- fluff?, ANGST, talks of violence and death, talks of suicide attempt , spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x03-2x04, used scenes from the game too

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“We went to make them pay. Sorry we had to do this the hard way, but you didn’t leave us no other choice. We asked and you turned us down. Now you have to trust that we will come back.

-Dina and Ellie”

“It was stuck to her door?” You ask as you lift the note and show it off to Jesse, who has read it over and over again as if that would bring them both back, or make it any less surprising. It didn’t.

“Yes,” Jesse answers hesitantly as he looks at you with pity and concern, and then flickers his eyes to Apollo with shame. “I’m sorry I came here so early. I really am. I just,” he pauses and focuses on Apollo as if ready to hear his friend get mad at him for involving you, but Jesse shouldn’t worry about Apollo. It’s your Uncle Tommy he should worry about. He seems more bothered by the fact that Jesse chose to come to you instead of just privately going to him. After all, you just barely started talking and getting out of the house; this could mortify you more.

“I thought you needed to know,” Jesse explains his reasoning, but doesn’t make it sound any better to your Uncle. If he had the chance to lie to you about this, he would’ve chosen that because as he looks over at you, he sees you set the note down and drop your face in your palms to try and gather your racing thoughts that don't leave you groggy. You’re left wide awake after reading Ellie’s note—or should you say Dina’s note, there’s no way Ellie would have written so much down. She would’ve made it short and straight to the point.

“I mean, I know they’re both reckless, but to do this? This is something completely beyond reckless and stupid.” Jesse adds, as you start rubbing your temple and revisit what Ellie said, because she’s right, you’re late. Too weak. You knew she was up to something stupid, and you didn’t stop her. You’re too late.

“What do we do with this now?” Jesse keeps filling the silence while Apollo is more worried about how you’re going to take this since you’re being quiet.

“Maybe we can still stop them, or,” Jesse pauses and sighs deeply, choosing to stay quiet instead of finishing what he was going to say.

“Or what?” You finally speak and drop one hand off your face, letting it smack against the dinner table.

“Go after them. I mean,” Jesse goes on hesitantly. “Knowing Ellie, we won’t be able to bring her back now, but maybe we can go after her. Save her and Dina from getting killed.”

Going after her was the first thing you thought of because you know, just like Jesse, that trying to bring Ellie back would be impossible. She’s put her mind to a mission, and it’d be hell to try and convince her to come back.

However, among the many other reasons not to go, you share the most important one that you think about the most. “I’d be the last person she would want after her,” you mumble, piquing all three men’s interest.

“We got into an argument yesterday after the meeting,” you share, and avert your gaze by looking at the note again. “I won’t go into detail, but she basically told me that she never wants to see me again.”

Jesse lifts his eyebrow, expecting more since he doesn’t know the depth of your argument or the hurtful things she said, since you don’t want to badmouth her.

“So you’re going to listen to her?” Jesse asks with disbelief, interrupting your uncle before he can speak up.

“I,” you pause and sit up straight before you take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, she made her choice. Who am I to stop her? I already tried. I told her not to go, that there is no point, but she got mad.” You say with frustration about your own failures, and because even if you understand that Ellie was mad, the things she said still deeply hurt.

It was the same when you were young. You’d try to help, but you’d always get yelled at and hurt. Only this time it hurts so much worse because it makes you want to die.

It's no exaggeration, that’s the truth, because it’s a truth that is tearing away at you as you speak.

“You’re her sister,” Jesse argues without an ounce of hesitation or shame—“isn’t that point enough? Regardless of what she said?”

You stay quiet and glance at Apollo this time as you think about your other reason not to go.

You have a family now. You can’t just abruptly leave for something that doesn’t guarantee you’ll make it back. They don’t deserve that, and you can’t just do that to them. But Jesse is also right…Ellie is your sister. Would your dad stop from going after her even if she said hurtful things to him?

He would go in a heartbeat, so you…should do the same to help the girl you love, but…there’s so many reasons telling you to stay.

“It is point enough,” your uncle finally chimes in for you and looks at you ever so softly as if a look alone could cause you harm. “Of course, Sunny of all people knows that the words our siblings say at the heat of the moment don’t mean anything, but it’s not easy. For either of us. We can’t just grab a backpack and leave the moment we decide to. Maybe you get that, Jesse, or maybe you don’t. Maybe a couple of years down the line, you’ll realize, but either way, we can’t be as bold with our choices as you.”

Jesse drops his head with shame, and your Uncle leans towards you with even more tenderness. “Don’t break your head over what you want to do. I’ll give you…until tomorrow to think about it.” He says and pats the empty space on the table.

You slowly meet his gaze and feel relieved by his suggestion, and feel that pressure to know what to do decreasing. Yet it doesn’t all vanish.

“Will you go?” You ask your Uncle, knowing Jesse wasn’t asking for permission but more so support before he left.

“I,” your uncle pauses and sits back with his eyes flickering away. “…Don’t know. I’ll think about it too,” he says without looking at you once, but you never give that too much thought.

“Can we really risk being two days behind them?” Jesse blurts, causing your Uncle to snap his gaze to him.

“It’s a risk we have to take and can fix if we choose to go,” your uncle mutters before looking over at you and finding your gaze again. “A day, hm?” He repeats and looks between you and Jesse.

“Okay,” You nod stiffly.

Jesse waits a moment to see if you’ll add anything else, but you go quiet, and your Uncle gets up and looks at him before pointing his head at the door.

“I’m going to head out now,” your Uncle announces as Jesse gets up from his seat. “You think about it.”

You nod again, and Jesse interjects. “Again, I’m sorry I came over so abruptly,” he says, making you drift your eyes to watch him.

“We already told you, it’s okay,” Apollo reassures the young man as he gets off of his chair.

“I’ll go find you later,” you assure Jesse and your Uncle, making Jesse nod in comprehension and making your Uncle linger back before he follows Jesse out of the house, making Apollo see them out.

When Apollo comes back to the dining room, he sees you in the same spot, but this time you have the letter in your hand and you’re reading the letter again with a deep sorrow in your eyes.

“What are we plannin’ to do?” Apollo asks now that you’re in the comfort of each other's privacy.

“I…genuinely don’t know,” you confess and drop the letter to look at him. “A part of me is telling me to go. She’s my sister and she’s risking her life in this cruel world, so even if she says that she doesn’t want to see me again, she still needs me.”

“Tommy is right, when we say we don’t want to see our siblings again, we don't mean it,” Apollo tries to comfort your bleeding heart as he sits across from you to be able to take your hands in his. “She’s mad, but she hasn’t forsaken you.”

You look at him, teary-eyed eyed and finally share everything she told you yesterday. “She said she hated me, Apollo. And maybe I deserve to be hated, I lied, but…how will we go back to what we were? How will she forgive me?”

Apollo sighs and, with a pitiful frown, says a hurtful truth. “You won’t ever get back what you had, but you can get past it. You will get past it.”

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head before you wipe the tears off your face, causing him to caress your knuckles and look at you with more pity.

You’re starting to hate all this pity.

“Another part of me is telling me not to go,” you cut in. “Not for any petty reason, but it’s not as easy as before, you know.” You breathe out deeply.

Apollo nods in agreement before he interjects. “Think about it like Tommy said,” he says without the reassurance that he’ll support whatever choice you make because deep down he hopes you won’t go. He’ll understand if you want to, but it’s like you said, it’s not as easy as before.

“I will, hopefully by today, I don’t want to leave Jesse waiting or have the girls get too ahead,” you say, and let that take over your every waking thought. How could you think about anything else with such a heavy and hard choice to make?

You go out to your garden to think, but you don’t come out with your mind made up, so you try to keep busy inside your house, but nothing comes to mind. You then go for a long walk, hoping that will help you, but you keep debating with yourself. The only thing you end up doing is ending up in front of your dad’s abandoned house.

You don’t know what led you there; whether it’s because of instinct, or because deep down you wanted to come visit his house to find an answer, you don’t know. You just know you’re in front of the driveway, hoping once again that you’ll find him on his porch, but…he’s not there. You can’t even be reassured by the fact that Ellie is in the garage because she’s gone too.

The house is alone. Lifeless and abandoned, with only memories of what was haunting the dust-covered halls.

Even so, as depressing as that is, you still step foot past the threshold that once kept you away, and make your way to the front door.

When you reach the door, you lift your hand with the intention to knock, but you remember that no one is inside, so before you can overthink the matter, you grab the doorknob and open the door.

What once was a warm place lively with comfort, now is a sad reminder of who you lost. Now, there’s no father to welcome you inside, and the smell of coffee doesn’t waft in your nose.

Usually, the lights inside the house were hardly on; he didn’t excessively brighten his house like you or Ellie do, but a light was usually on. Now, there’s only a dull light that fills the house because the sun hides under thick clouds.

Even so, you don’t turn to walk away. For the first time since he died, you step foot inside the house and close the door behind you, expecting nothing; no greeting, no head peeking around a corner, and no distant voice telling you where he is, but oh, the house comes alive with memory.

In the living room, you hear snoring as the TV quietly plays, so you follow the noise and on the lazy-boy, you see the memory of your dad asleep with your infant son asleep in his arms.

In the dining room you hear the commotion of faint laughter, metal clinking against plates, and different conversations across the table, and when you walk to the room, you see a warm light brightening the room and your family dining without a worry, almost as if life held no monsters and everything was normal.

You want to relive just one night. You want to have dinner with the whole of your family again and make one more memory, but the kitchen calls you. The memory of coffee brewing in the kitchen lures you over, and here to keep you company is the memory of you and your dad cooking and doing the dishes as you yapped away and he listened to every word.

A part of you wants to stay to be able to relive through those fond memories, but heavy footsteps thump in the hall, growing more distant as they get further away, so before you can get left behind, you follow after those heavy footsteps and end up at the foot of the stairs.

The haunting footsteps continue to echo on the second floor, but you’re in no rush since you get distracted by the photos your dad hung on the wall going up the stairs.

The first and most recent photo you study is a picture of your dad holding Teddy, who is looking away, but still relaxed in your dad's arms. The next photo you see when you go up a couple of stairs is one of you and all of your family gathered around the table. Ellie and your dad didn’t talk by then so they were at opposite ends, but they were still captured in the same photo, making it seem, without context, that they were a strong united front. If only it were true…

Nevertheless, you move up and the next photo keeps you put longer than the other ones because it’s one of you, Apollo, and your Dad on your wedding day. Your dad was in the middle, keeping you and your husband apart because the old man had a hard time accepting that his youngest daughter was all grown up.

It was funny then, but the memory is even funnier now.

Regardless, you reach the second floor and an end table decorates the end of the hall, holding different pictures and trinkets, but most importantly, it holds a happy picture of you, your dad, and Ellie captured on Ellie’s special birthday trip.

It was a long time ago, and it was the first trip you had together after the big adventure that brought you all together. It's a memory that should help you come up with a decision, but the truth is that you only get more upset over who you lost. So you move on instead, clueless as to what you want to do.

The next place you find yourself in is not Ellie’s bare room. You walk past her room and walk directly into your dad's room, feeling your heart crush when you walk into an empty room holding only memories of him. Not him sleeping on the bed, just an empty room and an empty bed holding a single box.

You grow curious about what the box could possibly contain, so you walk to it, feeling tears fall off your chin and get left on the floor as you hastily reach the bed. Once you get to the box, you don’t hesitate to open it, revealing to yourself that it’s his belongings he had on him when he…died.

There isn't a lot in the box, but you still only drive your focus to his broken watch that he refused to part with, not because it was a trusty gadget that told time, no, the old thing is broken. Which should be a reason to have abandoned it a long time ago, but the watch was a reminder of Sarah, and the last thing he ever gifted her. That’s why he kept it with him at all times, because it felt like carrying her with him.

Why would they make him part with it? Why didn’t they bury him with it?

If only you had been there. You would’ve made sure they were buried together, but…you weren’t there. You didn’t say your last goodbye…

…to either of them…now they’re both gone and you’re here, living on without them. Why?

“Why?” You ask yourself as you clutch onto your dad's broken watch before you turn to look at a picture your dad has on his nightstand, one of before the outbreak. A picture of you, Sarah, and him before the world ended, and where you were happy together.

You want to be with them again, more than anything else in this world. That’s what you want, and that desire, the picture, and the memory it brings, finally lets you come up with an answer.

Thus, you tuck the watch in your pocket and leave the house to go find Jesse first, since he’s more eager to leave.

Luckily, it’s not hard to locate him. You find him in the first place you check; his house, but there with him is your Uncle. They were looking over a map together.

“I decided,” you cut in abruptly, skipping past greetings and asking for explanations. “I’m going.”

“Sunny,” your Uncle Tommy finally parts from the table and approaches you, causing Jesse to back away.

You stay where you are and let your Uncle approach you so he can see how your face contorts with betrayal and frustration.

“I said I’m going,” you cut in confidently. “You can fight me or accept my choice. I'd rather you accept it because by the looks of it we’ll only have a hard time if you don’t.”

Your Uncle sighs and drops his head. “I was just looking out for you,” he explains without as much trouble as it would’ve given your dad to explain. “I’m just worried about you. You’re only now gettin’ better and you have Teddy and Apollo, and I—”

“You were selfish,” you cut him off and step towards him to tilt your head down so he can meet your gaze. “You have Benji and Maria, too, so where’s the difference in that? I can do it,” you proclaim. “I will do it because she’s my sister and she needs me.”

Your Uncle lifts his head, and you follow his movements so as not to lose his gaze. “Meet at my house when you’re done here. We leave today,” you say without giving more explanations.

“Are you sure?” Jesse asks for his own sake.

You look at him over your Uncle’s shoulder and nod stiffly before you step away from his front door. “Positive,” you assure him and then pass him a helpful comment. “Pack the necessities you have at your house. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He offers you a comprehensive nod, so you then face your Uncle and press again to not be at odds. “You go. I go. Simple as that. I’m…okay.”

Your Uncle takes a moment to process that, knowing you too well as to accept that right away, but you're as stubborn as your dad when you want to be, so he chooses to trust you now and gives in. “Alright.”

The corner of your lips tugs up faintly before you then leave and return home with your mind made up, but your heart heavy.

“Apollo?” You call out after you close the front door, but you don’t hear a response, so you walk further inside and check the kitchen and the living room, but he’s not there. You proceed to check the rooms, but he’s not in any and Teddy is not inside either.

Could they be out in town? Maybe.

Yet before you can assume that possibility, you check the backyard, and much to your luck, there they are in the wildflower garden along with your dog Hermes.

You almost don’t want to disturb their peace. You could admire them forever, but you don’t want to risk Jesse getting here and telling Apollo the choice you made, so after a couple of lingering minutes, you join your boys and your dog outside, earning happy reactions from the both of them.

“Ma!” Teddy exclaims and tries to walk to you, but you reach him first and swiftly sweep him off the floor with a beaming grin.

“Hey, cowboy,” you greet and kiss his forehead before you pull your head back as he shows you a single flower he picked. “Oh, would you look at that? Is that for me or you?”

Teddy brings the flower back towards him and stares at it for a moment before he accidentally drops it, making him squirm, so you end up putting him down so he can keep doing whatever it was that he was doing along with Hermes, and so you can take a seat next to Apollo on the bench swing.

“I finally made my choice,” you don’t delay the matter a moment longer, making him pick his eyes off Teddy to look at you nervously. “I’m going. Today.”

There’s no talk about a passionate motivation to go help Ellie from mortal danger. He, of course, thinks he knows why you’re going, and it makes your choice hard to swallow. Not because he doesn’t want you to help Ellie, but because it’s not so simple anymore.

“It seems that my Uncle and Jesse weren’t planning to have me go, but I caught them in time,” you share, but don’t catch Apollo by surprise because he had noticed your Uncle’s intentions from the moment the letter was shared—“So we leave today, just my Uncle, Jesse, and me,” you clarify, but get no big reaction from Apollo. He drops his gaze and sighs before he finally lets his thoughts be heard.

“Yeah, I…didn’t plan to be a part of the trip,” he confesses, leaving you more surprised than he was with what you just told him.

“We have Teddy,” he continues, making you look over at your son with guilt. “One of us has to stay with him. Why should we risk his life, or risk him being left…an orphan if Jackson is safe and one parent who can stay with him?”

You gulp as your guilt digs itself deeper, causing more ache.

“I wish I could go, but one of us has to stay with him, and as much as I wish it was you, I know this mission is important to you,” he continues to clarify his decision and turns his head to look at you while you keep watching Teddy as you try to take advantage of the time you have with him before you have to leave.

“That’s the only reason I’m even supporting it,” he says, and finally brings your eyes back to him. “I just,” he pauses and draws out a heavy breath. “Don’t know how many long goodbyes I have left in me.”

As if you had your breath stolen by him, you gasp softly and look at him with disbelief.

“I love you,” he quickly explains as he sees your reaction. “But things are different now. We have a son. A life together and…I don’t think it’s fair to me or him to uproot it for a trip that may or may not bring you back.”

You avert your gaze and clench your hands into fists.

“You know how much it hurts when people leave you behind,” he points out, making your heart skip a beat while also almost changing your mind. But it’s not enough because your dad's death is in the back of your mind like a plague.

“I do know,” you mumble and look back at him with reassurance. “I wouldn’t be leaving either if it wasn’t for Ellie, but…she…needs me,” you finally repeat your reason for leaving. “Whether she wants my help or not. I owe it to him to try.”

Apollo hums, and you take his hands to make one thing clear.

“But I also know I can’t water dead plants. I know my dad would never stop going after her, but I do know when to stop…there'll be no more long goodbyes after this one.” You clarify, making a soft smile tug on his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers before you let his hands go to wrap him in a tight embrace as if you were already saying your goodbyes when it won’t be for another little while.

“You are the best friend and best husband anyone could ask for,” you tell him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so lucky to have met you. I love you…with all of me.” You say against his flesh, making him grin and hold you tightly against him, to the point you find comfort in his steady heartbeat.

“I love you too,” he redirects. “You are loved so so much, so please come back, okay?”

You pick your face off his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder before you whisper back. “Okay.”

With no promise made and your first round of goodbyes shared, you then continue to watch Teddy play outside for a while longer until you have to go inside to get ready.

About halfway into packing the necessities you have in your house, Jesse and your Uncle finally meet up at your house and wait for a little while, but not as long as they assumed.

“You’re both carrying light,” Jesse points out as he sees that your backpack looks as light as your Uncle’s.

“For now,” you leave him more curious.

“Now,” your Uncle interjects. “It’s night now, so it’s the perfect time to get our horses and sneak out so as not to raise questions, okay? So just act normal.” He says without worry and expects you and Jesse to look the same, but Jesse looks lost.

“What about weapons? Are we just going to stroll in the armory and take what we need? Those are locked.” Jesse asks the most important question. “And food?”

You share a knowing look with your Uncle and Apollo before you decide to tell Jesse the secret early. “We have all that a couple of miles out of Jackson.”

Jesse blinks in disbelief, so you explain yourself further.

“Jackson is home. Jackson is safe, but we’ve been around long enough, and early in our years, we knew this man named Bill. He was…what my Daddy called an end-of-the-world prepper, so to make this story short, he warned my dad to always have an escape plan if we found ourselves in communities, especially because he had a daughter. My dad took that to heart, and he did exactly that. An escape plan.” You reveal with a smug smirk. “He hid a cache just outside of Jackson that he let a few of us know about.”

Jesse scoffs, and before he can feel proud over your father's genius plan, he asks one more question that immediately comes to mind. “Ellie left first. I’m pretty sure she emptied that.”

You scoff. “You really think we would let Ellie know?” You remark lightheartedly. “She would have emptied that a long time ago, knowing her, so we didn’t tell her. Weapons, food, flashlights, and everything we need is already there. I'm assuming you have a path mapped out,” you point out with a hint of annoyance, making your Uncle sigh deeply before he has no choice but to agree.

“We do, we just need to go collect our cache. So it begs the question, are you two ready to go?”

Without hesitation or anything holding you back, you nod to give him an answer before you confirm it verbally. “I’m ready.”

Jesse nods in agreement without so much as doubt, but what follows holds you back, so before you can leave, you turn to Apollo, but not with sorrow and uncertainty to leave. You look at him softly and completely enamored. “I love you. Always.”

He smiles back at you tenderly and without caring that you have company so close by; he smacks his lips on yours and steals a kiss.

Knowing this kiss will be your last, you capture his jaw to press him closer and spark a passion that makes you move ravenously. You almost don't have the heart or will to break away, but you taste a salty tear mix in your passion, so you pull away, but keep him close to take note of every feature on his face.

“I’ll be here. Waiting,” he says, pulling more tears out of your eyes. “My love. My world. My light.”

You smile at him tenderly and have to steal one last kiss.

Before you can part to give your son your goodbyes, you reach inside your shirt and pull out his old Firefly pendant to assure him. “I’ll have you close. Always.”

He scoffs softly and looks away shyly, letting you then move away to find your son in the living room playing on the floor with his toys.

“Take care of each other,” you hear Apollo tell Jesse while you go on your knees to grab your son's attention.

“Teddy, I’m going to be leaving now, okay?” You tell your son who is cluelessly gripping onto his toys. “You’re gonna be stayin’ with your Daddy, so you be good to him, okay?”

The baby blabbers and offers you his toy giraffe, so you take it and press it against your chest. “I’ll keep you close, okay?”

Teddy asks for his toy back, so you give it back with a giggle and then lean in to hug him tightly, causing him to laugh in response.

“I love you, my Theo,” you whisper. “Don’t forget me.”

Teddy stays in your embrace until you let go, and before you can completely part from him, you face him one last time and then force yourself away to make your way to the front door with Jesse and your Uncle trailing after you, and Apollo trailing after them.

Once you reach the door, you give Apollo one last embrace because if he went to see you off at the gate, people would grow suspicious, so he sees you to the door instead.

“Ready?” Your Uncle asks one last time as you face your traveling partners.

“Ready,” you and Jesse answer at the same time with confidence and determination

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

Thanks to your travel experience, you were able to help with some kinks to your Uncle and Jesse’s initial path to Seattle to avoid as many potential obstacles as possible. It is hard to know if you’ll come across something as small as a camp or as big as a town, but you avoid cities, highways, and freeways and stick to the woods and backroads where people usually don’t settle, and infected are least likely to roam.

Luckily, it’s just three of you, so you’re least likely to catch anyone’s attention. You don’t have a dog to help you with what you humans can't catch, but you don’t stop to loot anywhere and are never too loud or keep the light on too long. It’s not because you just set up camp to simply eat and sleep; you make conversation, you share stories, and laugh at jokes. You never disagree with one another because Jesse respects the plans of more experienced travelers, and you trust your Uncle, and he trusts you, but there, between both men and you, is a threshold.

Your Uncle sees it, but he doesn’t want to cross it. He gives you space because he thinks that’s the answer, and he likes to think he knows you more than he knows himself, but Jesse is different; he can see what your Uncle is failing to catch. It would be impossible not to, since you're on the road with no one but each other, but instead of getting closer on this trip, there’s always a barrier between them and you, and he can feel it.

Maybe it is because you’ve been on the road with only each other as company, so it’d be hard to miss, but it’s almost so thick that Jesse swears he can almost touch it with the pads of his fingers. It’s where you keep the person you really are and every emotion that riddles that you.

As much as Jesse wants to cross that threshold, though, you never let him cross it. You keep him and your Uncle at the other side and let them see an unusual bliss that feels inorganic.

“I see something brown,” you share, making Jesse search the area around you before he examines the sky to try and find what you spotted, making it the perfect game to keep you and Jesse entertained while also working to search the area for anything suspicious.

“That hawk circling the area over there,” Jesse points out exactly what you had seen.

“Yes,” you praise him with a smile. “A red-tailed hawk, if I remember correctly, right, Uncle Tommy?”

Said man searches the sky until he finds the distant fella and shrugs. “I wouldn’t know anymore. I only made you memorize them so we could get some teaching in while on the road.”

You groan and then look back at Jesse and add on. “Either way, it’s not very good to eat.”

Jesse scoffs with curiosity twinkling in his eyes. “Before or after?” He asks, referring to before Jackson or on your nationwide road trip.

“Before,” you let him know, and turn your eyes away from the sky when the hawk is out of view. “Of course, my Uncle Tommy, here, caught it. I helped…kinda. It moved too much for me, so we didn’t want to risk it then, but I helped locate it after we hunted it down.”

“Pretty much the same thing,” he jokes, making you giggle.

“I’ll say. Okay,” you focus back on the game. “Now you. Go. Last one. Make it hard.”

Jesse hums and his eyes search high up in the tall trees and down low at the horses you ride before looking at every green bush, colored plant, grey rock, and anything else you have yet to cross and that surrounds you until his eyes seem to lock on something.

You try to pinpoint what it is by following his line of gaze and blurting the first thing you see. “Fern!”

Jesse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to you. “No. Not close. Something…you can slip on if you are not careful.”

You press your lips together and search the area he had focused on to try and find what he said with the clue he gave. However, there’s no mud because it hasn't rained. There’s no moss that you can see. You can’t see flat rocks on the ground or any twigs that can get caught under your shoe.

“Bark?” You ask hesitantly.

A faint smirk tugs on his lips before he shakes his head. “No. Listen.”

You strain your ear and catch the call of the same Red-tailed hawk in the distance. You hear different birds chirping, and past that, you hear a rush of water, but you can’t see it.

That can’t be it.

“A river?” You ask with confusion, and as unsure as you are of your response, Jesse actually nods.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you smack your lips. “That ain’t close. I mean, I can’t see it.”

Your Uncle chuckles from the front of the caravan, and Jesse shakes his head with the smug smile still attached to his face. “Nope, but it’s not I-spy. We just have to find what the other person points out.” He says cockily, so you roll your eyes and sigh deeply.

“Whatever,” you grumble and then nudge your horse to pick up her pace and take the lead to reach the river faster. “We should fill up our bottles and let the horses hydrate,” you share your thoughts with the men who don't question you. After all, you won’t come across another body of water today or tomorrow.

Yet when you reach the river, you find out that it was loud enough to be heard from afar for a reason; the water is running faster, and it's higher than it should be.

“Melting snow and the recent storm?” Jesse asks for reassurance, so you and your Uncle give it to him because that is the only reason the water is so high.

“Yep.” You sigh.

Luckily, a wide tree has fallen over the river, so you will save time and energy by crossing to reach the other side, but how steady is it against the rushing water is the important question.

“We’ll cross one by one,” your Uncle suggests as you keep your eyes on the fallen tree to see if it’ll move.

“But don’t get off your horse. Just keep the pace slow and steady,” your Uncle adds. “Questions?”

You shake your head, and Jesse turns his head to look at him, but doesn’t give any notes. “Yeah. That sounds good. I trust you.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod along. “Me too,” you echo and then look back at the tree before you interject. “Jesse, you go first.”

Your Uncle and Jesse look at you, and they get ready to argue, but you snap your eyes to Jesse and insist. “Go. I’ll go right after you. Just don’t look back. Eyes forward and don’t panic or the horse will panic, hm?”

Jesse finds your insistence to go first annoying because he wants you to get across safely first, just in case something goes wrong, but there’s no point arguing. Thus, before you can waste any more time, Jesse nudges his horse and moves forward.

At first, the horse seems hesitant to climb on the tree because the river is loud and walking on a tree hasn’t been common for them to do, but after some sweet and quiet comforting from Jesse, the horse climbs on and slowly begins to take Jesse across.

You stay behind and don’t dare to move an inch because you don’t want to risk spooking his horse or even moving a pebble on the ground, in case that somehow makes the tree move.

You hold your breath and grow more tense by the second. A part of you wants to rush Jesse so he can get across as soon as possible, but the other part of you is logical and keeps you quiet as you watch every step with laser focus.

No part of you is at ease until finally, Jesse reaches the other side successfully.

“Great job!” You praise and clap for both the horse and him.

“Thank you, now come across,” he urges you without really soaking in the great achievement so as not to risk anything changing in the tree's stability or the rushing water.

Your Uncle takes that under consideration and presses you, too. “You heard him. Go. I’m right behind you. Nice and slow.”

You glance at him and nod in comprehension, but you don’t hesitate or take any of their warnings under consideration. What used to worry you and keep you tense doesn’t affect you now that it’s your turn. You don’t rush across. You take it slow and ease your horse on the tree, but you don’t hold the same anxiety that you noticed in Jesse when he crossed.

You don’t hold a sense of cockiness either. You just don’t care when it comes to you crossing. Maybe that’s what changed when you cross, or maybe it was just the rushing water smacking against the tree. Either way, the movement is small at first, it makes your heart skip a beat, and it makes Jesse and your Uncle move their horses forward.

The second time the tree moves, your horse slips. Yet you don’t react with fear and scream for help when you crash into the water and fall off your horse. You don’t panic when the force of the water shoves you under its angry waves either.

You feel a sense of relief, and when you hit the back of your head against a rock on the river floor, there’s ecstasy that rushes through your blood seconds before it all goes black.

At first, you expect the darkness to be fleeting. You expect to wake up and see the cloudy sky, but when you open your eyes, that ecstasy runs faster when you see your house.

Not your small yellow house in Jackson, no. You’re in front of your house in Austin, Texas. You’re home, and it’s just as you left it before the outbreak. Nothing is overgrown, the windows aren’t broken, and the roof isn’t crumbling. It’s in a perfect state, and you don’t question why it’s so.

You don’t even ask why you’re standing in front of it. You just grin with genuine glee and cut across the lawn. When you reach the door, you hesitate to steady your heartbeat before you open the door and immediately get greeted by everything you once knew.

Everything is the same. Nothing is out of place, not a pillow on the couch, and not a speck of dust. The one difference is that the sun shines through the windows, brightening and warming up the living room. Oh, and there’s a smell. A good smell that awakens your appetite, so you follow it across the living room and into the kitchen, noticing right away that it’s lively past the back door. There’s a long picnic table outside adorned with a simple yet cute white tablecloth, and plates and silverware are set on top of it waiting to be used.

Who did all this? You ask yourself, and slowly walk to the back door to try and see who’s outside.

Yet before you can even reach for the door, someone walks up to the door, someone you spent missing longer than you knew them. Someone you often think about and frequently miss. Someone sweet and beautiful, Sarah.

She’s in a nice sun dress that complements her skin. She dons a small amount of mascara, a pink lip gloss that makes her lips shiny, and when she reaches the door and faces you, she offers you her incredible smile that drives you to her without even thinking about it.

You should have. You should have hesitated opening the door and stepping outside, but you’re too happy and too ready to even hesitate. You just throw your arms around your sister again and hold her close.

“Sarah,” you whisper with a break in your voice as tears fill your eyes. “I missed you,” you add, and feel her hold you back.

“Me too,” she says sweetly, and it’s those words alone that make you feel safe again. Like the world couldn’t hurt you, and you were invincible. You felt like a little girl again back in 2003, and you enjoyed it. You made yourself at home in your sister's embrace in this peaceful afterlife.

“I…I really missed you,” you express yourself again before you pull back and face her sweet and young face, catching your reflection in her light, earthy eyes and seeing your face unchanged. You're just all dolled up in a sundress, just like her.

“I’m still older,” she reminds you, and you don’t deny her.

You laugh and assure her.

“Always,” you say, and then from one moment to another, the sound of a giggle steals your attention. When you look over, tending to the grill is a woman with her back turned to you, so you can’t take note of her face, you just see her hair and the color of her skin, but after that, it’s easy to guess that it’s your mother.

You don’t need to see her face, you know for certain because next to her is your dad.

“Daddy,” you call out with a quiver, and as said man turns to give you his attention, you march over there, but don’t embrace him like you did with Sarah. You face him with your face pampered with tears and immediately try to share your pain.

“Daddy, I’m…it…I’m sorry.” You cry while said man stays quiet, but grabs your shoulders to make you meet his gaze before he wipes away your tears.

“Come sit,” you hear Sarah say from the other end of the table. “The food is ready.”

You hold your dad's gaze, but he quickly looks away to point at an empty seat at the end of the table with a name card you can’t read. Nor do you intend to read right now.

You part from your dad and once again, without hesitation, you follow Sarah and sit at the end of the table next to her. There’s no question about it, and you don’t look back for anyone. You just take your seat and wait, seeing your dad sitting at the other end of the table across from you before the food comes. He then looks at an empty seat next to him and this time you read the name card, ‘Ellie Williams.’.

You gasp and feel a pull. At last, in the bliss, there’s a pull.

Yet you forget all about it when the woman at the grill finally turns and shows you a face you have only seen in pictures; your mother.

She turns with the food in her hands and walks over to you first to serve you.

“Mama,” you whisper happily, earning a sweet smile that makes you want to stay even more so you can keep seeing her smile. You don't want to leave. You want to stay here with her, Sarah, and your dad. It’s a choice, and you want to take it. You’re ready. It’s why you came on this trip, to reunite with them. It wasn’t Ellie who brought you on this trip; it was the need to be with your family, and you’re finally with them. Now, every muscle in your body is telling you not to look back.

Albeit as your mother walks away, you follow her with your eyes and in doing so, you catch the other empty chairs with name cards of their own.

Next to you on your left is ‘Theo Holloway.’ Next to him and in the middle is ‘Apollo Holloway’, and of course, next to him is Ellie.

Their seats are empty, and they will be empty for a while.

That thought makes you feel that pull stronger than before, but you’re still hesitant because of Sarah and your mother. You want to stay with them and him too, but when you look at him, without saying it, he’s urging you to go back.

“Please,” he finally speaks with tears welling in his eyes.

“But,” you try to argue, but stop to look at the empty seats again. “What good am I there?” You ask and look at him again. “I couldn’t save you. You’re dead because of me, and I…couldn't handle the weight of it. It was crushing me. I feel…weightless here. Happy. Please let me stay. I want to stay.”

You will. It’s your choice and you’re making it…

But there’s also Ellie…if you can’t handle the weight, how is she fairing? Dina was there when your dad died, but she can’t possibly feel the same crushing weight or the same heartache that never stops hurting. Only you and Ellie know that feeling, and if you stay…she has no one…

Damn it…

“Daddy,” you say softly, and without saying it he finally smiles at you, making that gesture and his face be the last thing you see before it’s all taken away and you’re in that lodge, seeing him die again for a fleeting second before you’re transported back to life panicked and surrounded by dark rushing water for a moment before you’re yanked out and thrown on the ground where you cough out water and try to draw in the air that will keep you alive.

“Oh, thank god!” Jesse gasps while your uncle grabs your arm to sit you up to pat your back to help you get all the water out.

Once you’ve gathered your breath and stopped with your coughing fit, your uncle throws his arms around you, feeling all the weight of the world rise off his shoulders as he sees that you’re okay now.

“Thank god,” he whispers. “I thought I lost ya there for a second.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and look anything but relieved.

That feeling will pass, but right now you’re more disappointed than grateful because you got taken away from everything you wanted. Peace, bliss, and your home.

Still, your uncle doesn’t notice that, but Jesse does. He just doesn’t say anything on the matter and instead watches you look ahead blankly whilst you relish in your Uncle's embrace.

“You might have a concussion, so let’s call today a day. There seems to be a town nearby. We can find some to hold up there,” your uncle suggests as he pulls away from the embrace to very swiftly walk around you to check on your head as if rehearsed, or fallen back to old habits from your early years traveling together.

“It’s abandoned,” you input, and let your Uncle check on you, realizing that at that moment, your horse is alive, just soaked and unharmed. You got the worst of the fall. “At least the last time I passed it was. I didn’t even encounter any infected.”

“But it doesn’t mean there isn’t any,” Jesse interjects, making your uncle agree.

“That’s true. What’s the last place you stayed at, Sunny?” Your Uncle asks as he moves away to grab the blanket off his horse to wrap it around you.

“No,” you shake your head. “We didn’t stay. We passed by, but I did see a bank. A pretty big one. It could have a vault.”

Your uncle stays quiet for a moment before he nods. “Okay. We’ll check it out. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes so we can go. You don’t have any cuts or anything concerning, but we’ll just have you stay out of any action for a while.”

“Okay,” you agree without a fight and follow him to borrow some clothes since everything you own, even your horse, is soaked.

Once you get yourself situated, you get back on the road and don’t take long to come across the town you talked about, finding it empty of any people and infected. Or at least, the infected aren’t roaming the streets. If people were here, it’d be obvious, instead, it’s a ghost town, and that raises the hairs on the back of your neck rather than making you feel relaxed.

It's a good thing you stick to the bank and don’t take time to explore a thing, who knows what monsters lurk in the shadows.

“The horses look like they fit through the rubble,” your uncle Tommy lets you and Jesse know before he walks out to grab his horse's reins and leads her inside.

You don’t doubt your Uncle, so you follow behind him with your horse, and then Jesse trails after you.

When you’re inside and making your way further inside the bank, you can’t help but be taken aback just a little by the state of the entrance of the bank. It’s one of the few things you like about this new world; man-made things slowly being taken over by Mother Earth. It can be a breathtaking sight, and the entrance of the bank is one of those sights.

The entrance is collapsed in it on itself, letting in only sparse beams of light inside through broken windows and cracks on the cement, leaving it pretty dim, but it’s the right amount of light to let you see how moss and greenery have slowly claimed the destruction, and the way the puddled rain water glimmers on the ground.

“It’d suck to make it this far in our trip and get killed by debris,” Jesse comments as he follows you, and you follow your Uncle through the maze that debris made.

“Don’t worry.” Your Uncle chuckles. “It’s probably been like this for years. It ain't collapsin’ today…maybe.”

You muster a smile, and Jesse feigns a laugh at your Uncle’s very reassuring comment.

“I see a way inside just over there,” your Uncle points out, but you don’t catch what he does right away. You have to walk in just a little further to see the gap he pointed out, and once you do, you and Jesse go completely serious again.

However, before you can walk through the gap to see what the inside holds, your uncle brings you all to a stop to listen first.

You don’t hear anything right away, so your Uncle grabs a pebble and throws it inside, causing two growls to respond, and letting you see a picture of what you could find inside. Albeit it’s blurry since you can’t be sure if it’s just two infected until you’re inside.

“Okay, Jesse, you’ll go in with me and help me take out the infected. Sunny,” he whispers directly at you before you can argue. “You stay here until I come back to give you all the clear, okay?” He presses, and you part your lips to argue, but he cuts in right away.

“I wasn’t askin’ for your opinion. I just wanted to know if you caught all that.”

You huff and challenge his gaze for a second before you nod stiffly.

“Good. Now keep your eyes and ears open,” he reminds you before he turns away and leads the way again. You don’t cross that threshold, but you walk to the edge and peek out, catching a glimpse of Jesse and your Uncle before you hear the nerve-wracking sound of clickers, giving the answer as to what kind of infected the men will be facing, and making you think about disobeying your Uncle.

You believe that both men will be able to handle the clickers, but it doesn't take away from the fact that you’ll be a big advantage.

Yet, you don’t jump down to the ground floor to join them. You stay put and watch them creep away and get out of sight to try and catch the clickers off guard to make as little fuss as possible.

You try to strain your ear, but you can hear the clicking sound of clickers, which is a good thing. It means their plan to sneak up on them is working.

However, it’s because it’s quiet and you’re trying to be even quieter that you hear the sound of rubble falling in the water. At first, you think nothing of it. It must be natural because of the state of this place, but you hear it again, and followed by that is the sound of bare flesh hitting the cement.

It can’t be your horses because you left them near the entrance, plus their hoofs wouldn’t sound like that. It’s…some kind of infected, and basing it off how quiet it is, you’re assuming it’s a Stalker.

You can only be sure if you look, so you slowly reach for your revolver before you very slowly start to churn your head.

Just as you catch a glimpse of its ugly face and prove that it’s in fact a Stalker, suddenly the monster lunges at you, causing you to scream, and since you’re on the ledge, you lose balance and fall inside the bank with your back slamming on the ground and the infected landing on top of you.

The noise of the altercation alerts the clickers, making Jesse and your Uncle have to resort to charging at them instead. All while you try with all your might to hold the Stalker back and keep it from biting you, and honestly, finding a way to get it off you is quite easy. You can do it, but you choose to struggle. You see the potential in letting it take a nip of your flesh and choose to struggle.

And oh, the thought of having no choice but to accept death's comforting embrace is tempting because it means that you would be able to be there again. The peaceful afterlife you left. There would be no choice around it, you would be there again with Sarah, your mom, and most importantly, your dad.

You’d get to apologize for not trying harder this time. You’d remind him that you love him and that no place could ever be home if he wasn’t with you. Most importantly, you’d be able to feel like you aren’t getting choked and crushed by the incredible weight pressing down on you.

You’d be weightless and pain-free…

Yet just as you start to picture that perfect afterlife, the image of Ellie’s empty chair flashes in your mind, and your mind is bombarded with the thought of her.

Guilt and the reminder of why you chose to live in the first place seeps right back inside, and you gain the will and the might to shove the Stalker off of you.

Before it can come charging at you or go hide, you drag yourself to your ass and hit the trigger of your gun not just once, but three times until you make sure it won’t even twitch.

After that, once the Stalker is dead, you look for your Uncle and Jesse, catching your Uncle hitting his armored Clicker with the end of his rifle over and over again. It’s already dead, but he keeps hitting it with so much force that its head gets crushed into smithereens.

Jesse, on the other hand, seemed to have shot his clicker and left it alone once it was lifeless, so you catch him walking over to you now.

“Is it clear?” You ask as he walks over.

“The commotion would have made any others come out so, it seems like it, yeah,” he assures you, and the moment he reaches you, he offers you his hand like a nice gentleman, so you accept his help and get up on your feet with some struggle.

There’s no sharp pain. Just aches from all the falling today.

Nevertheless, your uncle seems to snap out of whatever spell had him obliterating that Clicker, the moment he catches a glimpse of you standing on your given height.

At first, he calls out your name as his contorted face comes undone and expresses pure concern. After that, he rushes over to you. “Are you okay?” He asks as he studies you. “You weren’t bit were you?”

You meet his dark, worried gaze and feel more guilt hitting you for wanting to leave your Uncle behind when all he does is worry about you.

“No,” you assure him softly, and without thinking, you step forward to wrap him in an embrace that catches him off guard. “I’m okay. Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes get glossy.

“Good,” your Uncle scoffs with confusion mixing with his relief. “I’m glad. Now, why don’t we find the vault to rest? You need it.”

“We all do,” you add and pull back to face both men.

“Come on then,” your uncle says without wasting another minute before leading the way through the now empty bank.

“I wonder why that clicker had armor on,” you fill the silence as you walk past the armored clicker. “Is that how armed the security was at banks?”

“No,” your Uncle answers your curiosity. “There were securities sometimes, but never armed like that. Not unless someone was trying to rob the bank.”

You hum and let a short silence fall as you reach the deposit box area, finding at that moment, an old corpse by an empty duffle bag.

That explains the armored Clicker and the other clicker Jesse took down.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Your Uncle muses as all three of you walk into the room.

“It didn’t seem like it was his lucky day,” Jesse comments as you look at the scene on the floor.

“A lot of people started breaking into banks when the outbreak happened,” your Uncle shares as he walks to the duffle to look through it. “With the whole world erupting into chaos, everyone thought it would be easy to get rich or get stuff otherwise unattainable. I guess nobody thought it would be the end of the world until it was.”

You walk away to look around at all the deposit boxes still locked and hiding riches that will always be hidden away.

“Why would people keep stuff here?” Jesse asks as he also departs from your Uncle to also take a look around.

“Well, this place was protected, so instead of leaving it all vulnerable at home, some people trusted the bank to keep their money or valuables safe.”

“I saw this movie with Apollo once where the bank workers would replace the jewelry with fake jewelry to be able to cash it,” you mention and sigh as you start to miss your husband and your baby.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse chimes in as he snaps his fingers. “I’ve seen that movie before. It was really good.”

You hum and start to drag your feet. “I miss Apollo and Teddy. I wish phones worked,” you grumble and turn as you see nothing worthwhile—“that’s something I miss.”

Your Uncle gets up with a paper in hand and chuckles at you. “You were four before, who would you call?” He teases.

You grab your back straps and start to walk back towards him. “Well, you,” you remind him, making him scoff in amusement. “And I would call…my…dad,” you trail off into a whisper. “That’s all, but hey,” you say louder with a faint smile. “I have people I can call now. That’s why I miss them.”

“We’ll be back home soon,” your Uncle tries to assure you. “Now, thank these stupid bank robbers for leaving the code to the vault,” your uncle shows off. “We’ll be able to stay inside for the night and not have a lookout.”

Jesse claps quietly, and you look over at the corpse. “Thank you,” you direct at if before you follow your uncle to the giant metal door.

You try to help after he unlocks it, but he pushes you away and makes Jesse help open the door.

“And welcome,” your uncle tries to make light of the night. “Take a breath and take the night off from all the worry. We’ll be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

“Is that so?” Jesse doubts the area, and he has every right to, but your uncle is right.

“Yeah, it is,” you assure him as you walk in first, seeing a skeleton inside. Only this one dons armor, and holds onto a shotgun they seemed to have used to end their misery.

“We would stay in places like this often,” you continue as you grab the armored skeleton and drag it out past the big door so it’s not an eyesore in the room.

“If someone does try to come in, we’ll hear them struggle to open the door,” your Uncle adds. “That will give us time to react. That’s why Joel chose to stay in places like these in the beginning. Sunny was a little girl, so we took extra precautions.”

You don’t comment on the memory or try to recall those old days. You drop the skeleton and walk back inside to wander around, seeing that the deposit boxes are open in this room, so you snoop through them as Jesse and your Uncle gather abandoned money to use for a fire to have light and make the room warm.

“What would the old you from the old world think about you doing this?” Jesse asks your Uncle. “I mean you were all dependent on this, weren’t you?”

“Well, first, I would assume I was insane or crazy rich,” your uncle says. “And second, yes, this was once our livelihood. We didn’t have a lot of it, but…we were happy.”

“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve looked like if I got to live in the old world,” Jesse keeps filling the silence, making you peer over with an amused smile. “Maybe I would’ve been in construction like you.”

Your uncle scoffs. “Ah, nah. Think bigger. I was lame.”

“You said you were happy,” Jesse counters, making you smirk. “Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Your uncle goes quiet for a moment, and a match strikes before he offers him a response. “I never appreciated it until after. Until it was all gone. I imagine that was everyone’s life story.”

You turn away from the pair and hear a fire start as you continue to snoop through, noticing a silver ring in one of the open boxes and immediately taking it as you think about Apollo.

“Look at this,” you call for everyone's attention and turn to show the ring off. “You think Apollo will like it?” You ask as you bring the ringer closer, as you see words engraved on it. “His wedding band is good, but I always wanted something better for him. This looks better. Besides, he deserves it for being so understanding of my decision.”

“I think it’ll be nice, Sunny, take it,” your uncle backs up your choice before he also sounds thoughtful. “I should get something for Maria and Benji too.”

You smile at him and assure him. “I’ll keep my eye out for you,” you let him know, and finally recognize that the words engraved on the ring are Latin, but you have no idea what it means.

‘Sic Parvis Magna’

Apollo's dad can probably figure it out. He was a university teacher who taught about Ancient Greece and other ancient stuff.

“Thank you,” your uncle says back. “Now, let's close that door and gather for dinner. We should take advantage of the extra security to get as much sleep as we can before we have to leave. Plus, you,” he points at you. “You need to rest. You’ve been through it today. You need it.”

You hum in agreement and go on to help with what you can, or with what they let you help with. Which is not a lot, they let you take tonight easy because of your concussion and the tumble that left your body aching.

It does feel quite odd letting yourselves be so relaxed though, after weeks on the road having to be on guard and look over your shoulder. So much so that at first you’re all so tense, but after a while, once you’re all reassured that no one is coming in and no infected is lurking outside, you all exhale and let yourselves loose. You share stories, and mostly answer Jesse’s curiosities about the old world because he likes to hear about your Uncle’s past, and no matter how many times you’ve heard it, you never tire of the stories he tells.

There was even a moment when you were all gathered around the fire that you laughed. You genuinely laughed a hearty laugh.

The action felt so foreign yet so…good, like everything that torments you would be temporary and you’d be alright.

Maybe you should’ve hung onto that feeling to try and mend your broken soul, but you remembered why you’re so far from home and the events that caused it, and that small taste of healing vanishes, leaving your world broken again.

Only as you come off this high, you hurt so much worse. As if it happened for the first time. That’s why you can’t sleep, or you choose not to, because you know the nightmares that await you, and Apollo is not here to keep you grounded or make you feel safe.

Staying awake won’t help you feel better about your injuries, but you’d rather spend a sleepless night than have to go through the memories that torment you at night. Besides, it seems like you’re not the only one awake.

In the darkness that swallows the room, you see Jesse getting out of his sleeping bag, so after a while of giving him time to himself, you join him in a corner filled with more stacks of money.

“It’s crazy to me that this paper controlled the world,” he whispers thoughtfully.

“I had a piggy bank once,” you share as you’re on the topic of money again. “I kept my allowance in it. Of course, I wouldn’t get the big bucks like my sister, but I would get dollar bills from my dad, my uncle, or the neighbors.”

Jesse chuckles, and you smile softly.

“Oh yeah, I was really well-liked, but that’s beside the point,” you brush it off and continue with your story. “I was saving up for this beautiful princess tea set. That was all I was saving up for, so when the time came to go buy it, I collected all my money, went to the store, grabbed my princess tea set, and put my money on the counter…guess how much I had.”

Jesse shakes his head before he gives you a response. “More than enough?”

You scoff. “Five dollars. The princess tea set was fifteen.”

“So all that saving up…what was it for?”

You sigh. “Ice cream and candy. I had wasted my money on ice cream and candy. Every time I went to the store or the ice cream truck passed, I used my money. That’s where it all went,” you share with disappointment. “I was devastated.”

“Let me guess,” Jesse adds. “Your dad put in the rest?”

You smile softly right away and nod. “Yeah, he did, and then when we got home, I dressed up my dad and my sister, and we had tea.” You smile wider at the faint memory, but as the darkness once again consumes you, you grow sorrowful.

A silence proceeds to blanket you and Jesse for a moment, letting you both take a seat on the uncomfortable stack of money and focus on nothing and everything the room holds.

“Can I ask you something?” Jesse asks, breaking the silence and drifting your gaze to him.

“Shoot,” you encourage him, making him sigh and welcome a short silence before he lifts his head and turns it to face you.

At first, you can’t make him out in the darkness, but as he lets the silence build, you slowly make out his face, catching a boy-like curiosity. Not one that makes his eyes twinkle, but a curiosity that adds a weight to the conversation, as you know he’s about to be vulnerable.

“How can you put on such a brave face in the face of danger?” He finally asks, making your eyebrows twitch together before you question something.

“You aren’t a coward. I actually admire your bravery and your courage. You're hard to scare, so what do you mean?”

Jesse sighs deeply and averts his gaze to explain himself. “Today, when you fell in the river, you looked anything but scared. And earlier, with that Infected, your face never once showed a glimpse of fear. Are you just used to this world? Or what’s your secret? I’m genuinely curious.”

You falter, and that secret you’ve been keeping from them threatens to come out. “I am scared,” you reveal. “All the time, I just…” You trail off and swallow thickly, feeling your secret press harder to come out as it's just you and him. Your uncle is sleeping, it's just you and Jesse.

Yet it’s the thought that Jesse will know that makes you fight to keep in what you feel.

“I won’t share your secret,” he presses, making your eyes flicker back to him and feel your breath hitch, but that need to keep everything in keeps holding on.

“…I just can’t let it get the best of me,” you continue with what you were saying. “Or it will consume me…” You trail off again and drop your head, hiding that desperate desire to speak your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cuts in, changing the subject bluntly. “When I went to you about going after Ellie, I pushed. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug softly. “I needed it. I couldn’t afford letting her get days ahead or even reach Seattle before I made up my mind,” you assure him before you face him and probe. “Why did you come though? Is it to help Dina?”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, it’s not just about her,” he shares. “It’s about Ellie, too. I would have gone with them if they had asked. Begrudgingly, but I would have. My friends' problems are my problems.”

You smile in admiration right away as you nod slowly in comprehension. “Nice,” you praise him and avert your gaze again.

As Jesse doesn’t get what he was initially searching for, he boldly crosses that threshold you had kept between you, your uncle, and him.

“What was that hesitation with the infected about?”

You act surprised, but he’s not as patient anymore. He’s persistent and worried.

“I promised my friend Apollo I would look after you, I intend to keep my promise.”

You scoff softly and shake your head, hesitating just a moment longer but finally finding a foothold to slowly tear that wall down. “That day my dad died,” you begin to share slowly. “They caught me off guard, and no matter how hard I tried, how reckless I was, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him, and now I see it every day as if it happened yesterday. It torments me while I’m awake and in my sleep, and I can’t…it’s,” your voice quivers. “It’s crushing me. That’s why I came…to find an end to my torment because it hurts. It hurts so much.” You cry but immediately cover your mouth to not wake up your uncle.

“It’s selfish, I know,” you say what you assume Jesse is thinking. “But that’s my secret. A desire to die.” You exhale deeply and slide your hands off your face before you keep going as you can’t make yourself stop and need to make it sound better.

“And I found it. My escape. When I fell into that river, I had a choice. I was…home in Texas, and I felt so weightless. Not only that, but I was with…her…my sister, my mom, and…my dad. I was home, and it felt…so good. Every bone and muscle in my body told me to stay,” you whisper. “I felt that need so deeply inside me that for a moment…it was no longer a choice, but then…there was an empty chair with a name card on it. Ellie’s,” you pause and wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“I tried to fight myself, but then I thought of how alone she’ll be, and I know…I know she has you, Dina, and everyone else, but there’s this connection only she and I share. A connection only she and I know because no one loved him like we did and…I thought about how alone she would be if I did slip away, and…that thought brought me back. She did,” you finish saying and keep wiping tears off your face.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse tries to offer some consolation. “And I think you made the right choice. As costly as it seemed.”

You sniffle. “I’m horrible,” you can’t help but spill. “I didn’t even think about my family. I was so ready. It hurt so much to come back because I was with him, but then I wasn’t. I…I,” you can’t finish saying, and drop your head to cry as quietly as possible.

“Just,” you add as you wipe your face and face him again. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Especially not her. I’ll be good now,” you reassure him. “I’m trying. I am. For her.”

“I won’t,” Jesse whispers as he watches how much you struggle to stop from sobbing.

He had watched you from his seat the entire time because he didn’t know how to help, but now as he sees you crying but also trying to stop, he cups your shoulder before he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in against him so you can find some comfort in his embrace.

And you do. In your most vulnerable moment, you find comfort in your friend.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. SEATTLE*

“The Evergreen State, home of the Dodgers,” you break the silence as you come across a trail sign that gives two different directions; one that points to Arboretum and the Seattle Trail. You all follow the Seattle Trail, of course.

“No,” your uncle snorts. “Not even close. Mariners.”

“Oh.”

“Los Ángeles was home to the Dodgers.”

You rest your chin on your horse's head and become reminiscent. “Apollo watches old Re-runs of baseball games with his dad and brother. I can never get into them though. It’s the same games over and over again.”

“They could say the same thing about your movies,” your Uncle quips, making you loll your head to the side to look at him with a pointed glare.

“Yeah. I’ll let you have that old man,” you mutter. “Touché.”

You then continue to sigh and glance up at the tall green trees that almost touch the sky. Wyoming doesn’t have trees this tall, you wish there were because they’re so fascinating, but you’re also so terrifying in a sense. They’re like giants.

“I’ll give it to Washington. Their forests are beautiful,” you muse. “They’re so…green…” You trail off and glance at your two trusted companions, catching Jesse not even giving you the time of day, while your uncle rolls his eyes, making you smile faintly before you sit up. At that moment, catching the whiff of something completely foul.

The further you walk, the stronger that smell gets. It even burns your nose, but the smell is not strange. You all know it well and don’t take long to come across the violent scene in the middle of the dirt path.

You are only a few miles in, and you’re already coming across corpses of what were once living humans. Not infected. And it’s not just a couple; just past the thickness of some greenery is a group of them. All slaughtered and all seeming to be donning similar green coats that almost make them go unnoticed if their pale, lifeless face didn’t stand out against the dark dirt.

“Do these look like W.L.F? Could it have been them?” Jesse asks as he studies the violent scene to make sure that neither of the women you knew was amongst them.

“No,” you ease his worry. “These don’t look like W.L.F. They were ordinary clothes and,” you pause and look back at the body of the man you passed with a white painted symbol that was nothing like a wolf. This symbol is like…an eye? Or something astrological?

“…they didn’t have that symbol or use the same coat,” you let Jesse and your Uncle know. “But…these are too many to have been taken down by Dina and Ellie alone. Maybe it was W.L.F. That girl,” you avoid saying her name. “Did hint at Seattle being dangerous. Or something…so maybe this is a glimpse of it.”

Your Uncle hums before you hear him tighten his hands against his reign.

“Whatever it may be,” your uncle comments with his eyes narrowed ahead. “Let’s try not to get caught in the middle of it and hope Dina and Ellie are trying to do the same. Come on, it's better not to stop. Someone could be close.”

You steal one glance at the violent scene, and from what you can tell, they were all taken down by gunshots, and a lot of them died with melee weapons. No firearms.

Maybe they got taken after they died?

Whatever the case, you push away your curiosities and pay even closer attention to the tall trees, just in case there’s people hiding up there like when you were in Kansas.

Luckily, besides critters and birds, there’s nothing else that inhabits the trees, and after crossing a few miles, you find the freeway and thankfully leave the thick of the woods.

You are far more exposed now because you don’t have the cover of the trees, which is the downside, but at least you don’t have to be scared that there's people lurking up there.

Now all you have to worry about is if there’s people lurking around you, or if you’ve been accidentally spotted. So far, everything along the freeway is truly abandoned. There’s no sign of life or Infected, just Mother Earth consuming the manmade cars that were left on the freeway, and the manmade highway itself.

Eventually, you end up at the end of a bridge that either deteriorated or was blown up like the other major cities. Either way, you reach the high point and get the perfect view of the city, wondering instead of admiring what dangers such a beautiful city holds.

Ellie is somewhere inside there. In danger, hiding, close to Abby, or…hurt. You can’t think of the other alternative. It’s too grim and threatens to shove you back into that coma-like state.

“Listen,” your uncle interjects. “When we enter the city. We’ll take our separate ways. Sunny, you and Jesse stick together, and I’ll go off alone,” your uncle brings up without facing you because he knows he’ll see your disbelief and disagreement.

“No,” he blurts before you can cut in. “You cannot come with me,” he makes you shut up. “We’ll cover more ground this way, and I'd prefer it if Jesse didn’t go off alone. So yes, you have to stay with him.”

You huff and pout as you stare off at the nearby city.

“We’ll meet up again in the morning,” he continues and points to a spot on a map you found in an abandoned gas station just before you got into the city.

“What if you end up in danger? How are we supposed to find you then?” You argue either way and snap your head to pierce your glare into him. “The city is fucking huge. It’s better if we stick together! That girl said this place was dangerous!”

“And if we stick together, we won’t even cover a quarter of the city,” your uncle argues and finally faces you. “If we separate, we cover more ground, so I’m not arguin’ with you about it.”

You scowl and look away to grumble your defeated response. “Fine.”

“Take care of each other, and if you find the girls, throw them on your horses or tie them. Whatever it is, just bring them back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jesse confirms that he understands what you need to do, making your uncle move his horse closer to you to pick on you now.

“We'll meet in the mornin’. I swear.”

You slowly look back at him as you hear his attempt to assure you and keep your frown plastered as you retort. “If not, I will come after ya. I’m not goin’ home without you. Together, remember?” You bring up since it seems appropriate now that you’re traveling on the road like the old days.

“How can I forget?” he says lightheartedly and flashes you a small smile. “Now let’s go. Let’s see each other off.”

Knowing he’s right, but not admitting it, you continue toward the city. Yet the only difference is when you come off the highway, you break apart like the old faded lanes that lead to different streets of what was once a buzzling city.

You and Jesse try to keep quiet as you roam the quiet streets, not because you still don’t have the energy to make conversation. After your heart-to-heart with Jesse, that wall you kept up has slowly come down, and you let your voice be heard more. You’re not just a quiet listener anymore; you join their conversations and tell them stories about everything and anything that comes to mind. Even of the past. Or at least the parts that didn’t stab your heart to recollect. So that’s not why you keep quiet.

You don’t want to draw unwanted attention. You’re already walking through the city on horses, so you don’t want to put yourselves at even more risk by talking.

“We should find somewhere to hide our horses,” you bring up. “We’re gonna stick out regardless, but this way it’ll be somewhat easier to blend in.”

“Yeah,” Jesse sighs as he keeps scanning the area without daring to miss an inch. “That’s smart. One of these buildings shall do it. It’ll help if we keep them close to our way out of the city, just in case we have to make some hasty escape.”

You nod and scan the area until a music store catches your eye.

“There!” You point out. “The windows are covered. Let’s keep ‘em there.”

You nudge your horse to walk faster to reach the store quicker as you feel an inkling of excitement seep through.

Nevertheless, and as expected, the doors are closed.

“I’ll find a way in,” Jesse volunteers. “Stay here.”

Without another choice, you agree and watch him disappear into an alley before you start to look over your shoulders, making sure that you don’t catch anything suspicious, and finding yourself find this silence more terrifying than any monster.

Alas, nothing comes out from any corner or any building. The ghost is clear, and it seems that Jesse comes across the same luck because he opens the doors rather quickly.

“Look at you,” you muse as you hop off your horse to lead yours and Jesse’s inside. “Good job.”

“Team Jackson!” He exclaims and puts his hand up to offer you a high five as you reach the doors.

“Yeah!” You giggle and let the reins go to give him a high five. “Team Jackson!”

“The store is clear and by the looks of it, it has grass growing in so they can eat that while we’re gone,” he says after you return to the horses and continue to lead them inside.

Once he closes the doors behind you and barricades the store again, you let the reins go and let yourself be in complete awe by the store.

“What richness,” you muse as you take in all the different kinds of music that's still left behind. “If only I had infinite space in my backpack. I’d take it all home, oh, and look!” You point out and run over to the folk section to snatch a Joan Baez album off the shelf. “My queen of Folk music, Joan Baez. My uncle said my mama loved her.” You smile at the album but also curse the fact that you can’t play it right now.

“If only we had room. All this music wouldn’t collect dust at Jackson,” Jesse says, thinking more selflessly, whereas all you think about is your collection. “I’m sure…people would love to hear some of that be played at a fall fair?” He asks as he tries to discreetly press you to rethink about your abandoned dream of having a fair at Jackson.

Lately, him and your uncle have been bringing up the idea, but that excitement and dream died with…your dad. You just let both men try to insist because you don’t want to be rude and turn them down. They can still have a fair, you just won’t be a part of it.

“Hm, maybe,” you say without that initial enthusiasm, and put the album down to start walking down the site with your fingers raising the dust off the music people forgot about.

“Let’s head out before we lose more time here,” you bring an end to all the excitement and return a sorrow that was such a constant companion in your group.

Once you collect the things you need and go back outside, the tension lingers until you speak up “Joan Baez has a song called ‘Jesse’. Fun fact.”

Said man glances over at you and probes. “Really?”

You glance at him, too, and nod. “Yep. When we get back home, listen to it. Maybe it’s not your thing, but it’s still cool. You can pretend she’s singing about you, considering your girl might have been stolen.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t get hurt or bothered by your comment.

“Maybe you are right,” he mutters. “After this. Maybe I’ll take your advice about officially cutting things off.”

You pat his shoulder. “Yeah, I would like that for you. You’re young, take advantage of that and explore your options. Or don’t. Up to you. Maybe you’ll meet someone here. Won’t that be romantic?” You tease, making him crack a smile.

“I guess I’ll see. Maybe this trip has changed Dina. Maybe we can work things out,” he says, and as to not take sides, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah. Maybe. We’ll have to find her to know. Hopefully they’re okay,” you trail off into a whisper.

“I’m sure they will be,” he tries to assure him and you. “They’re smart and work well together.”

You hum in agreement, and as you scan the area as you turn the corner, you think about Ellie and hope with every fiber of your body that she’s okay. You can’t…imagine her not being okay. The thought, it…utterly terrifies you and threatens to send you down that dark cycle again…

That’s why you hang onto Jesse’s attempt at reassuring you as you wander the streets of Seattle, trying to go undetected by the threats that make this city so dangerous.

However, just as you note how calm and quiet it’s all been, Abby’s warning starts to come into fruition as out of hiding, canisters hit the ground.

Jesse and you catch where the canisters land and notice that they’re smoke screens, but no matter how fast you react, you can’t avoid them. They go off, and your ears begin to ring, while your eyes begin to sting because of the thick clouds of smoke, and your lungs get polluted by the same poison, leaving you dazed and desperate to find Jesse.

He was next to you, he can’t be far.

“Jesse?!” You call out between coughs and pull out your gun as you begin to walk in the direction he was just in before the smoke broke you apart.

“Jesse?!”

Seconds later, your name is shouted back, and the smoke begins to clear from the air and your body by the second, so you’re less dazed, but you still can’t see him. Or anything else for that matter. You can only hear different footsteps all around you.

“Jesse!”

“Here,” a stranger speaks up for the man you’re looking for and comes out of the smoke with a mask and gun.

In response, you point yours at your head, but then, from behind you, before you can shoot, something cold and hard hits the back of your head, leading to a void of darkness.

A/N- some game scenes are you excited??

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys @kitdjarin1 @barnes70stark

45 notes · View notes

tavukwings · 3 hours ago

Text

DISCORD USER KÖNIG Part 2 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎

(König x Reader — Discord Friends, Slow Burn, Soft, Eventual Smut)

Taglist:

@poltergeist404 @laduenadelswing @dillybuggg @illonvk(i can’t tag you??😭) @whore4romance

4 Days Earlier – Discord, 1:13 AM

You:

“König? You alive?”

“You didn’t rage-quit life, right?”

“Don’t make me send memes. I’m armed.”

Silence.

No online status. No “typing…” No pings.

You sat there staring at his name in the server list—dark grey. Offline. Like a light had been switched off.

He’d gone dark before. Missions, spotty signal, sleep. But never this long. Four days with no update, not even a vague emoji or one of his weird, dry messages.

Your chest had that familiar ache. The one that crept in when you worried too much about someone who hadn’t promised you anything. He wasn’t yours.

But God, you missed him.

⸻

Tonight – 11:37 PM | Ping

König is online.

Your hand shot out like it moved on instinct. Mouse click. Open chat.

König has joined the VC.

No message. No warning.

Just his name lighting up the voice channel.

You scrambled for your headset, heart thudding.

You:

“König?!”

A pause. Crackle. Mic fuzz.

Then—his voice.

König (quiet, hoarse):

“…Hallo.”

One word.

But it hit you in the chest like a punch. Low, deep, exhausted. And something else. Like all the energy had been drained from him, leaving only that voice and the breath it rode in on.

You (softly):

“Where have you been?”

Silence.

You heard a sigh. Long, tired.

König:

“Mission. Remote. No contact. Sorry.”

He never said sorry.

Not unless he meant it.

You:

“Could’ve left a dramatic goodbye. A ‘if I die, delete my search history’ kind of thing.”

A dry chuckle through the mic.

But it didn’t reach his voice fully.

König:

“I didn’t want to leave.”

Something in you froze.

It wasn’t a flirt. Not a tease.

Just honesty.

You (quiet):

“You okay?”

A longer pause.

König:

“…No.”

Your breath caught.

There were layers to that word. Fatigue. Pain. Guilt. You waited, giving him space to speak. He always came to things on his own time.

König (muffled, low):

“Two men. Squadmates. Dead.”

You:

“König…”

You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? “I’m sorry” felt cheap. And he’d already heard that enough.

He exhaled hard, like he was trying to push something out that wouldn’t move.

König:

“I hesitated. I… was too slow.”

You:

“That’s not your fault.”

König (strained):

“It is. I froze. I’ve done this job for ten years. That doesn’t happen.”

You could hear the anger in him now—not at you. At himself. His voice trembled, a low, hot undercurrent of shame.

König:

“I was thinking of you.”

Your breath hitched.

You (carefully):

“Me?”

König:

“I was pinned. Behind a crate. Shot ringing past my head. And all I could think was—”

He cut himself off.

Static filled the silence.

Then:

König (quietly):

“All I could think was, if I die now… I’ll never hear you laugh in person.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

Your throat was tight. Fingers frozen over your keyboard.

König (softer):

“I’ll never get to… see you. Not through a screen. Not in pieces. You’d never even know.”

You swallowed hard.

You:

“I’d know.”

A pause. Heavy.

You (softer):

“I would’ve noticed. I would’ve waited. And waited. And known something was wrong.”

Another long silence.

König:

“I didn’t think this would happen. You. Us. This… feeling.”

He sounded raw. Stripped bare. No mask. No walls.

König (almost ashamed):

“I think about you too much.”

You closed your eyes. Your chest ached from how real it all felt.

You:

“I think about you too.”

A quiet, shaky breath from his mic.

König:

“You make me slow. Careful. Soft. I can’t afford to be soft.”

You:

“Maybe you can.”

He let that hang in the air for a while. Then:

König:

“Come to Austria.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

You:

“What?!”

König:

“Not now. Not yet. But one day.”

You (smiling faintly):

“You sure you’re ready for my chaotic energy in real life?”

König (warmly):

“I’ve fought wars. I can survive you.”

A laugh finally slipped from your lips.

König (low, softer now):

“I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

You held your mug of cold tea and let the warmth in your chest fill in the rest.

You:

“Play a match with me?”

König:

“Even if I lose on purpose to impress you?”

You:

“Especially if you do.”

⸻

VC — Late Night

Your voice was soft through the headset, almost whispering now. You’d both been gaming for hours, long after your teammates logged off, until it was just the two of you — König, still wearing his mask, slouched on his bed at base, and you, curled under a blanket in your room with only the monitor lighting your face.

He had gone quiet for a while. Just the sounds of you sipping tea and the game lobby music.

You glanced over at his username.

Still connected.

Still breathing.

“Hey,” you said softly. “You good?”

A pause. A long one.

Then, finally, König’s voice came through. Rougher than usual. Tired. Small.

“Ja… just thinking.”

You waited. Didn’t push. You’d learned to be gentle with his silences.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Do you know how long it’s been since someone touched me?”

Your heart stuttered.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He filled the space instead.

“I don’t mean like… sex or whatever,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I mean like—hug. A hand on the shoulder. Even a pat on the back. I don’t think anyone’s hugged me in… over two years.”

That hit you like a punch to the chest.

You sat up straighter. “Konig…”

“It’s fine,” he said too quickly, like he regretted saying it. “Sorry. Forget it. I don’t want to be weird.”

“No. No, hey.” Your voice softened. “That’s not weird. That’s… awful.”

“I think I forgot what it feels like,” he said quietly. “Warmth. Pressure. Another heartbeat. Everything I touch is tactical. Weapon. Trigger. Door. Steel.”

You bit your lip, feeling something sharp and tender bloom behind your ribs.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice light but honest, “if we ever meet, I’m hugging you so long you’ll beg me to let go.”

Silence.

Then:

“…Really?”

“Really.”

A beat.

“I’d hold you for hours,” he said, voice raw, chest deep. “And I’d never ask you to let go.”

⸻

The Next Day – Discord Messages

König is Online.

He’s quiet today, but present. You’re in another Discord voice chat, casually chatting with a couple people you game with now and then. One of them, a guy from another server, keeps jokingly flirting with you during the match.

You laugh him off — as usual — but König’s gone dead silent.

After the match, you check your DMs.

König [Typing…]

Then he sends:

König:

That guy from the match. He does that often?

You blink.

You:

Who, Levi? He’s just messing around. He flirts with everyone, lol.

König:

Still.

Didn’t like it.

You:

Oh? You jealous, big guy?

The typing bubble appears.

Then disappears.

Then reappears.

König:

Do you want me to take care of it?

Your brows lifted.

You:

Wait—what??

König:

Not like that.

Just… let him know to back off.

You:

König… you’re being protective.

König:

Maybe I am.

Is that bad?

You felt your chest tighten. He wasn’t teasing. He meant it. You could practically see his furrowed brows through the screen, his knuckles tight where they rested near his mouse, his jaw clenched behind that mask.

You typed slower this time.

You:

No.

I like it.

But only if you’re protective of me… and not just anyone else.

A pause.

Then:

König:

Only you.

⸻

Three Weeks Without König

The Discord call had gone silent three weeks ago.

He left one last message.

König:

Mission time. I’ll be back soon, ja?

Stay safe, meine Süße.

And then nothing.

He’d told you once, offhandedly during a sleepy 2 a.m. VC, that missions could stretch long. That there were places he couldn’t bring his phone. That when he was deployed, he shut the world out to survive.

You tried to wait patiently.

You really did.

But three weeks felt like a lifetime when the one person who made you feel seen—safe—was just gone.

You found yourself staring at your phone. Re-reading old messages. That awkward selfie he sent once from the gym—his shirt clinging to his body, face cropped out, only his sweaty jawline and chest visible. You remembered teasing him for it, and how he stammered so much in the VC afterward he accidentally muted himself.

Your chest ached.

And that ache turned into something restless. Something reckless.

So, you did the only thing your heart screamed at you to do.

You booked a flight.

⸻

Austria – König’s Apartment

The city was colder than you expected. Brisk wind, gray skies, but beautiful—stone buildings with old wooden shutters and narrow streets that echoed when you wheeled your small suitcase down them.

You had the address. You’d sent him that limited-edition energy drink once, the one you both joked was probably radioactive. He never forgot it. Called you “his supplier” like it was a spy mission.

He once joked about hiding his key under the mat.

“Classic, I know,” he’d laughed over voice. “But no one ever checks, eh?”

Except you did.

And there it was.

A plain silver key under a faded old mat that read “Möge das WLAN stark sein” (“May the Wi-Fi be strong”).

You stepped inside.

His apartment was quiet. Still. Like him.

Big, but sparse. Clean. A little too clean. Just essentials.

Military-precise.

His mask hung on a hook by the door. His boots, muddy and massive, rested nearby. You walked around slowly, taking it all in — the way his couch had an indent shaped exactly like his body, the small pile of books in German and English, the little Post-It note stuck to his fridge with a scribbled reminder in his messy handwriting:

Call her when you’re back.

Your heart clenched.

You dragged your suitcase into his room.

Then curled up on his bed to wait.

⸻

Hours Later – The Front Door Opens

You heard the jingle of keys.

Then heavy boots. A grunt. A sigh.

The soft clink of his gear being dropped by the door.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You pressed your hand to your chest to steady it.

You heard his footsteps come down the hall.

He paused outside his bedroom door.

A beat.

Then—

Click.

The door opened.

You leapt.

He barely had time to react.

“Was zur—?!”

You threw yourself at him, arms around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist as you tackled him back a step. He staggered under your weight—though not much—and instinctively caught you, huge hands gripping your thighs.

“Hallo?!” he barked. “Who—?!”

Then he saw your face.

“…Schatz?”

You grinned. “Surprise, soldier.”

König just… stared.

You saw his expression shift through five stages of confusion before settling on stunned disbelief. His blue eyes wide under messy hair, fresh stubble shadowing his jaw, lips parted slightly.

“You—bist du verrückt?!” he whispered hoarsely. “You flew to Austria?!”

You nodded, still holding him tightly. “Yep.”

“And broke into my home?!”

“Technically, I used the key you hid under the mat.”

König blinked, mouth open.

Then he dropped his bag.

And crushed you into his chest.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just held you. Arms like steel. Like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You could feel his heart pounding against yours.

“…I thought I was dreaming,” he finally muttered. “This feels like a dream.”

You leaned back to look into his face, your hands cupping his jaw. “It’s real, König.”

He just stared at you like he couldn’t believe it. Then, softly:

“…I missed you.”

⸻

You were curled up on the couch, his oversized hoodie swallowing your small frame. König sat beside you, unusually quiet, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding your eyes. The air between you felt heavy — but not uncomfortable. More like… electric.

“So,” you said softly, nudging him with your foot, “how does it feel having me here, crashing your place like a wrecking ball?”

His gaze finally flicked to you, and you caught the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to act casual but failing spectacularly.

“I—I wasn’t prepared for this.” His voice cracked just a little. “You… surprised me.”

You smiled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes widened for a moment at the gentle touch.

“Yeah? You look like you’re about to combust.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, eyes darting down to your hand then back up. “Maybe I am. You—uh—you’re not just crashing the place. You’re… you’re crashing my defenses.”

You laughed softly, heart fluttering.

“Are you saying I’m making you shy?”

König’s lips twitched into a small, embarrassed smile. “Maybe.”

You scooted closer, your knee brushing his thigh. “Good. You’re adorable when you’re like this.”

He swallowed hard, face still pink. “Adorable? I’m a soldier.”

“And yet here you are, blushing like a schoolboy.” You winked.

His eyes flicked to the floor, voice low. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Only to you,” you teased.

He let out a short, breathy laugh, still shy but somehow more relaxed now. You both sat like that for a while, the quiet between you filled with something warm — a new kind of closeness neither of you had quite dared to explore before.

You stayed close to König, the warmth from his body still lingering after your surprise hug. The quiet between you felt charged, the kind of silence that buzzes softly with things left unsaid.

You swallowed nervously, then looked up at him with a small smile.

“Hey, König…” you began, your voice softer than usual. “Can I… share your bed tonight?”

He blinked, eyes flickering away for a moment, cheeks tinting just the faintest shade of red beneath his mask.

“Äh… I—uh… sure,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck like a shy teenager caught off guard. “If you want.”

His voice was low, hesitant, almost shy—so unlike the confident soldier you knew. You found it endearing.

You reached out, lightly brushing a hand over his massive forearm. “Thanks,” you whispered.

He gave you a small, shy smile that made your heart skip.

⸻

“Let’s go then. What are you waiting for?” you said with a teasing smile.

König stood up, a bit stiff and awkward, clearly shy but trying to keep his composure. His tall frame moved quietly behind you as you led the way to his bedroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, you began changing out of your clothes without a word. König’s eyes widened immediately, and he quickly turned his gaze away, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. You caught the shy flush and chuckled softly, amused by his obvious embarrassment.

You slipped into something comfortable—soft pajamas that contrasted with his military precision—and then crawled onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around you. König didn’t say much but carefully started changing too. He peeled off his shirt, revealing the hard, defined muscles beneath. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric stretched tight over powerful thighs.

You couldn’t help but glance at him. Your breath hitched at the sight—his broad chest, carved pecs shadowed by faint scars; the washboard abs you’d only seen in pictures, now right in front of you; thick, veined biceps and triceps that spoke of strength and endless discipline. His skin had that rugged, worn look from years in the field, but there was softness in his shy eyes that completely contradicted his tough exterior.

Caught staring, König’s gaze flicked to you, eyes wide and vulnerable. Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over the ridges of his abs. The moment your skin touched his, he gasped softly, a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill straight through you.

He remained unusually silent, cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you could tell your touch caught him off guard. Encouraged, you continued to explore slowly, letting your hand drift lower, tracing the line where his sweatpants met his hips.

A soft, unexpected moan slipped from his mouth, making both of you freeze instantly. König’s blue eyes locked onto yours, wide and unguarded.

You smirked gently, your voice teasing but warm. “Looks like someone’s a little more sensitive than he lets on.”

König swallowed hard, clearly flustered, but there was a spark in his eyes—something tender, something hungry—and you both knew this was just the beginning.

Your hand lingered on his hip, tracing delicate circles as König’s breath hitched again. You felt the heat radiating from his skin, his body tense beneath your touch. His usual calm, controlled demeanor was slipping away, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

Then, you noticed it—the unmistakable bulge pressing against his sweatpants. Your eyes widened slightly, and you bit your lip to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

König’s cheeks deepened into a rich crimson, and he quickly shifted his hips away, as if trying to hide what was obvious to both of you now.

“Uh—” he stammered, voice thick, eyes darting anywhere but yours. “This is… unexpected.”

You chuckled softly, the teasing warmth in your tone impossible to hide. “Sensitive, huh? Didn’t think the mighty König would be this easy to rattle.”

He swallowed hard, jaw working as he fought the flush spreading down his neck. “You’re… dangerous.”

You reached out again, fingers brushing over the top of his abs, tracing down to his hip, your touch slow and deliberate. “I could say the same about you.”

The tension between you thickened—the room shrinking until it was just the two of you, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync.

König’s lips parted, eyes searching yours, vulnerability flickering with something else—desire.

You smiled softly, leaning in just a fraction closer, letting your hand rest lightly on his thigh, the promise of more hanging in the air between you.

Your fingers hesitated just a moment before drifting lower, brushing along the edge of the bulge pressing against his sweatpants. König’s breath hitched sharply, eyes wide but unable to pull away.

You smiled softly, the thrill of his reaction sending a warmth straight to your core. Slowly, carefully, you began to rub the length of his hardness through the fabric—light, teasing circles that made him shift under your touch.

A low, involuntary groan escaped his lips, and you felt the vibration beneath your palm.

He was so tense, so sensitive—like every nerve ending was awake and aching.

König’s eyes flickered between yours, filled with a mixture of surprise and raw want. His usual composed mask was gone, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart pound harder.

“D-Don’t stop,” he murmured, voice rough and breathless.

You chuckled, your touch lingering as you rubbed more boldly now, feeling him grow even harder beneath your palm.

His hips shifted closer, seeking more contact, but you held back just enough to keep him on edge.

The room felt electric—charged with anticipation, with unspoken promises, with the weight of everything you both wanted but hadn’t yet dared to say.

Your fingers traced slow circles, and König’s breath came faster, his muscles tensing and relaxing with each stroke.

“Sensitive,” you teased again, voice low and sultry. “You’re so damn sensitive.”

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through your skin.

You both froze for a heartbeat—his reaction undeniable, your own desire flaring in response.

König’s breath hitched again, his hips shifting instinctively toward your hand, desperate for more contact. You let your fingers glide slowly, teasing him with just enough touch to make his pulse race without fully satisfying him.

His eyes darkened with need, flickering between wanting and holding back—just like you.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing lightly against the shell of his ear. Your breath was warm, your voice low and husky.

“Do you want more, König?”

He swallowed hard, a soft groan escaping before he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hand away—just enough to build the tension even higher. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling every ridge of muscle under your palm.

Then your gaze locked with his.

“Come here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

König crawled toward you on the bed, each movement careful, almost shy—like he wasn’t used to letting someone see this side of him.

Your hands found his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the rough stubble that made you want to kiss every inch.

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment.

Then, slowly, your lips met—soft at first, exploring, tasting.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you exploded.

His kisses deepened, urgent and hungry now, his body pressing into yours.

Every nerve ending was alive, every inch of skin craving connection.

König’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His breath was ragged, warm against your skin as his lips traced a slow path down your neck. You felt the fire ignite beneath his touch—soft, deliberate, full of promise.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, feeling the heat pool low in your belly. His fingers trailed lightly down your sides, exploring curves he’d only ever seen from afar. Every touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

He paused, eyes searching yours, asking without words if this was okay. You nodded, heart pounding with anticipation.

Slowly, he eased his hands under your tank top, skin meeting skin. His touch was gentle but hungry, memorizing every inch, every delicate curve. You gasped softly as he traced the swell of your breasts, fingers light but knowing.

König’s lips found yours again, this time more demanding, more urgent. You melted into the kiss, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him even more.

Every sensation heightened—the rough scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath, the press of his body against yours. Time slowed down, the world shrinking until it was only the two of you tangled together, exploring, learning, savoring.

His hands roamed lower, sliding beneath your sweatpants, fingers teasing, coaxing.

There was a tenderness beneath the urgency, a careful worship of each other’s bodies that made everything feel sacred.

⸻

König’s fingers drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, his touch light but deliberate. You caught the slight smirk playing on his lips—the kind of confident, knowing smile that sent a thrill straight through your core.

He pressed gently, just enough to make you shiver. The warmth beneath his hand was undeniable, his arousal growing despite the barrier of fabric. His breath hitched slightly, betraying how much he wanted you even now.

You couldn’t help it—a soft, unexpected moan escaped you. The sound was new, raw, and it seemed to surprise both of you.

König froze for a moment, eyes wide as if realizing for the first time just how much your reaction affected him. Then his smirk deepened, amused and captivated all at once.

“So… that’s your sound,” he murmured low and husky, his fingers never stopping their teasing dance. “I like it.”

Your cheeks flushed hotter, heart pounding wildly, but the heat pooling between your legs only grew stronger. The quiet room filled with your mingled breaths, the tension thick and delicious.

He leaned closer, voice a breath against your skin. He teased you just how you did earlier, “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?”

⸻

König’s teasing fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements, his touch light but purposeful beneath the fabric. Suddenly, he paused, a subtle change in his expression—his eyes flickered down, sharp and curious.

His fingertips pressed a little more firmly, and then he stiffened.

“Hmm…” he murmured, voice low and thick with surprise. “You’re… wet.”

The word hung in the air, charged with meaning.

Your breath hitched at his touch, the warmth between you already burning, and now his knowing had set your skin alight. You felt exposed, vulnerable in the best way, caught under his gaze as he traced the slickness through the thin sweatpants.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I can feel how much you want me.”

You shivered, heart pounding hard. König’s fingers didn’t stop; if anything, they moved more boldly, stroking you through the fabric, making your breath catch again and again.

“Does that feel good?” he teased, his voice rough and playful.

You could only nod, lost in the heat of the moment, your moans growing softer but more urgent.

König’s blue eyes locked with yours, shining with something darker, hungrier, as the quiet room pulsed with the promise of what was to come.

Without breaking eye contact, König’s hand slid lower, fingers tracing the waistband of your sweatpants. Then, with a swift, confident motion, he shoved the fabric aside, exposing your wet skin to his touch.

His fingers pressed gently at first, then more boldly, moving with slow precision that sent shivers racing through your body. You gasped softly, clutching his arm as he explored you, every touch igniting sparks beneath your skin.

König’s breath was warm against your neck as he whispered, “So soft. So perfect.”

He teased you expertly, his fingers stroking and circling, eliciting soft moans and trembling gasps. The heat between you thickened, the room growing smaller until it felt like it existed only for this moment—just you and him, tangled together.

His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips brushed yours, slow and teasing, the promise of more burning in his eyes.

König’s fingers moved with growing confidence, the pad of one finger tracing over your wetness, teasing you lightly. Then, with a deliberate, slow motion, he pressed one finger inside you.

You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as the new sensation overwhelmed your senses. His touch was careful but sure, moving just enough to make you shiver.

He watched your reactions closely, his blue eyes darkening with desire and concern all at once. “Sag mir, wenn es zu viel ist,” he murmured softly. (“Tell me if it’s too much.”)

You shook your head, unable to speak, too caught up in the way he made you feel — delicate, wanted, and achingly alive.

His finger moved gently, coaxing, teasing, and you felt the heat in your body deepen, every nerve ending alert.

König’s finger moved slowly, carefully exploring, his touch light but deliberate. You bit your lip to hold back a soft moan as the sensation rolled through you, every nerve waking up with delicious heat.

His breathing hitched just a little, his blue eyes locked on your face, reading every flicker of pleasure and hesitation. “Du bist so schön,” he whispered low, the German rough and tender in the same breath. (“You’re so beautiful.”)

You reached out instinctively, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him a bit closer. His other hand found your hip, steadying you as his finger deepened just slightly, coaxing more of that breathless feeling.

Your heart hammered, and your voice was barely a whisper, “König…”

He paused, looking up, searching your eyes. “Ja?”

“I want more,” you said, voice trembling.

He smiled softly, that shy, strong man torn between wanting to go slow and the raw pull of desire.

His finger moved with careful, teasing precision, making you shiver beneath his touch. The warmth spreading through you was dizzying, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You tangled your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling him closer as your breath hitched again.

König’s other hand slid from your hip to cup your face gently, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched your reactions with intense, almost reverent focus.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with something between admiration and desire.

You whimpered softly, desperate for more but knowing this slow dance was building something electric — a tension that promised fire.

His finger pressed just a little deeper, circling slowly, sending sparks of pleasure rolling through you like gentle waves. You arched into him, your hips moving slightly, craving more contact.

König’s eyes darkened, lips parting as he swallowed hard. His hand on your face tightened just a touch, anchoring you as if afraid you might float away in the storm of feeling he was stirring inside you.

“Please,” you breathed, voice trembling with want.

He hesitated for only a moment longer, then leaned down to brush his lips softly over yours — a promise of more, of everything waiting just beneath the surface.

You tug gently at the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers curling into the soft fabric, sending a clear, silent message. König’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering to yours with a mix of surprise and something deeper—desire, hesitation, excitement all swirling at once.

Slowly, almost reverently, he slides his hands down to the waistband, gripping the fabric. You hold your breath, heart pounding as he peels the sweatpants down just enough, revealing the hard length you’d been imagining, now fully visible and more real than you’d dared hope.

His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, but his eyes don’t leave yours, as if searching for permission—or maybe daring you to take the lead.

You reach out again, fingertips tracing the hard line, feeling the heat radiate against your skin, your own breath catching in your throat. The room is thick with tension and unspoken promises as you lean in closer, every inch of you craving more-

König jolted awake, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his skin.

His eyes were wide, confused—disoriented.

It was still dark outside.

For a second, he blinked at the ceiling, heart pounding, trying to remember where he was.

A dream. It was just a dream.

A very… detailed dream.

He groaned and slammed his big hand down to the side of the bed in frustration—

SMACK.

You yelped.

He froze.

“…Was that—?”

You stirred, voice thick with sleep, “König… did you just slap my ass?”

König’s entire soul left his body.

“I—I didn’t mean—I thought you weren’t there—I mean, I thought the bed was empty—”

You rolled over slowly, raising an eyebrow in the dim light. “So, what, you randomly smack the mattress when I’m not here?”

“…No?”

You burst out laughing, burying your face in the pillow. “Unbelievable.”

König groaned and flopped back against the bed, mortified. “Please just let me die now.”

You patted his chest, still giggling. “Next time just ask nicely.”

He groaned louder.

#konig x reader fanfict #konig x reader fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #cod fanfic #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig fanfiction #konig smut #könig

24 notes · View notes

momokarp · 18 hours ago

Note

would you be able to tag ships? specifically doorkeay, i have it blocked for personal reasons and you never tag it in posts with it in

I sure can!

Sorry about that, I’m still working on my tagging etiquette and I’ve never had this much traction on people seeing my work til now. I didn’t realize that mistagging or forgetting tags would kind of interrupt someone else’s experience on this site like that. I appreciate you letting me know and I’ll circle back on previous posts to correct them!

If you don’t mind me asking, I’ve made some art that is rather ambiguous/not specifically Doorkeay related but still have the two characters interacting. Unless I’m heavily implying/directly drawing the ship, should those stay untagged?

I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything and that you won’t run into something you don’t want to.

#momoask #oops my ignorance has come back to bite me #I will correct my mistakes I promise!

37 notes · View notes

levellyscorner · 2 days ago

Text

Echo Of Light Part 1(Bob Reynolds Fanfic)

Triggers: Mental health struggles, Destruction and chaos, References to violence and aftermath (Plans for NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Robert Reynolds x OC

Tags: Marvel, Thunderbolts, Mental Health, Bob

Authors Note: Hi- ngl I just wanted to write about bob felt like i could have done better but enjoy might make more might forget about it entirely

thx xoxox

part 1

The city laid in eerie stillness, the kind that finds a way to settle in your bones. The air carries the scent of ash and scorched earth, but worst of all, silence clung to the streets. Filled with the silence that follows chaos like a shadow. Daphne had never seen anything like it- her eyes swept over the debris, the cracks in the pavement where the battle had raged. Somewhere beneath the dust and broken glass, there was a story of chaos, a story that could have ended with far worse consequences.

She had seen him struggle with his inner demons before; bob always battled with the darkest parts of himself and the hero everyone wanted him to be. She had watched him fight to keep the man he wanted to be from being overtaken by the man he feared becoming. But this time, it was different. He had looked at the world like it was a distant memory—like he wasn’t sure if he could even remember what it felt like to belong. His despair hadn’t erupted. It had settled into him like a heavy fog, and he had withdrawn, retreating into his own isolation pulling him away, inch by inch, until he was more of a shadow than a man.

They had almost lost him. And in some ways, maybe she was already losing him. The world around them was fractured, a mirror of the way things had fallen apart. The cracks in the pavement seemed to run deeper now, like the city had absorbed some of the same ache that Bob carried. Daphne watched him from a distance, a quiet ache spreading through her chest. She could see it, the disconnect. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand the damage he had caused. The weight of his despair that had spilled over, touched drowned around him, and he still hadn’t realized how far he’d retreated.

Glass crunched under the heel of her worn combat boots “Bob?” she called softly breaking the silence between them. “I- I'm so sorry-.” He mumbled fidgeting with the frayed edges of his suit. “I didn’t mean to- I thought I could control it this time..I just...I'm so sorry Daphne.” He mumbled pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes and breathing out a strained exhale, “What is wrong with me?!” He breathed out in a pained whisper.

He sounded so lost- she took a step closer to him, but not reaching out just enough for him to feel her presence. “Bob?” She spoke again, her voice low and smooth like honey. “Are you ok?” she asked softly her mossy green eyes shining in the gloomy light of the city. He shook his head as if trying to clear the fog in his brain, “Daphne Marie-” he mumbled out lifting his head as his eye squinted as if trying to refocus on her.

“I’m Here.” She replied with a gentle nod.

His eyes wandered behind her to the scorched earth and rubble buildings, “Did I do this?”

She didn't want to answer him at first, her gaze following his eyeline assessing the damage before responding with the smallest of nods. “Yea.” She said finally in almost a whisper. “You did.”

His brows furrowed, his head dipping to the other side as he took in the state of the city before his eyes finally fell back to the confusion raw on his face. “I thought I had it under control- But when it started, I just… slipped. It was like being lost in the fog and waking up and realizing you’d already done something, and everyone’s just staring.” His voice was flat- not cold just like he was struggling to find his reality.

“I didn’t ask for this.” He spoke his words tangled in complicated webs of guilt, regret, confusion and frustration. “I was trying to stop them,” he said. “That’s all I was doing. Just—hold the line, buy time. And then…” He trailed off, looking around as if the destruction might explain itself. “Everything’s wrecked. And I didn’t even feel it happening.”

“I know.” She whispered gently, taking a moment to just study him. There was ash coating his dark disheveled curls, there was a thin cut across his temple he hadn't noticed, and his suit was torn and fraying leaving small strips of bruised skin to peak through. “You didn’t mean for this to happen. That doesn't make it ok...but it matters.” She whispered, reaching up gently, laying a hand on his shoulder to remind him he wasn't alone.

The hum of a vehicle’s engine grew louder, cutting through the dense silence that had settled over the city. Daphne glanced over at Bob. His posture was stiff, like he was waiting for the weight of a judgment to fall on him. Walker stepped out first, scanning the devastation. Yelena followed, soot smudged across her cheek. Then Bucky hopped out of the driver's seat leaving the rest to fall into their places in the group.

“No casualties.” Walker said simply with his hands on his hips. “Are you sure?” Bob responded.

“Yes- we triple checked. People are shaken but alive. Theres a scraps and bruise but nothing to major.” Yelena responded.

Yelena’s words hung in the air like a fragile thread of mercy.

Bob let out a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction — but the guilt didn’t vanish. It never did. He rubbed at his temple, his fingers brushing over the fresh cut, only just noticing the sting. Finally, in a voice so low it barely existed—

“I don’t believe you.”

Walker opened his mouth to respond, but Daphne lifted a hand. Silencing him without looking. Her eyes stayed on Bob.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Bob didn’t look up.

“They’re alive,” she continued. “All of them. Scared. Shaken. But alive.”

His hands were trembling now. Just slightly. Like an aftershock working its way out of his bones. He looked at them, confused, like he didn’t recognize his own skin. His voice cracked. “I can’t tell where I end and the thing inside me begins.”

“Then we find that line again,” she said. “Together.’’ His lips parted, like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. The fight had drained out of him somewhere between the screams and the smoke. He finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—fear. The kind that stays in your chest long after the danger’s passed. “What if this is just who I am now?” Daphne stepped closer. Her voice was quiet, steady. “Then you don’t face it alone.”

Walker finally sighed, lowering his gaze. He’d never been one for speeches, but there was an edge of compassion in his tone when he spoke.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice low. “But you don’t do it alone, Bob. We’re here.”

There it was again—the thing Bob couldn’t quite wrap his head around. The thing he hadn’t earned, but somehow still had. The thing that made him feel like he could breathe, just a little bit easier.

They were still there. All of them.

He glanced around the group, catching snippets of conversation, the muted shuffle of boots on ash-covered ground. But something—some quiet part of him—kept returning to Daphne. She was standing off to the side, close but not intruding. Her posture was casual, arms folded loosely across her chest, but there was something in the way she stood that made it seem like she was always present, always noticing.

Bob could feel her eyes flicker in his direction for a brief moment. A fleeting thing. And then she was back to listening to Yelena. There was nothing special about the glance. But he couldn’t shake it. Maybe it was the way her presence seemed to anchor the chaos around them, or how easily she seemed to slip into the silence of it all.

Bob?” Walker’s voice again, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Bob blinked, quickly shifting his focus.

“You okay?” Walker asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Bob rubbed a hand over his face, nodding. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

The team moved forward, pulling him back into the task at hand, but the subtle pull of her presence lingered. The way she stood, just a little bit closer, just a little bit more there than the others. Bob didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t have time to figure it out. But for now, he didn’t have to. It was enough to feel the space she filled without needing to understand it.

#superhero #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds fic #bob reynolds #sentry #the void #thunderbolts fanfic #yelena belova #mcu #thunderbolts

23 notes · View notes

writer-shipper-ffreader · 2 days ago

Text

Maybe not so useless after all?

(Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x f!Reader)

Chapter 3

Previous Chapter |

A/N: Chapter three of my first posted fic for Kate x f!Reader. I'm still not ready to let go of Osgood :( Brief mention of Torchwood in this chapter too, couldn't mention archiving without hinting to the one and only Ianto Jones. The story diverted slightly here - I blame the characters, they have a mind of their own!

Warnings/Tags: Slowburn for this chapter, soulmate AU, yearning, injury, swearing (like twice), angst?, I just want to bang their heads together

Words: 3,956

Summary: After a mysterious mishap with a device found in a field, can you find out what the device is and what it means for you and Kate?

Following the conversation with Kate a few days prior, your mind was still caught on the idea of soulmates. You were contemplating whether you’d ever felt a click with someone; what had she even meant by click? You had been in relationships before, but you wouldn’t have said you felt a click with any of them.

Everyone on the field team still had their ‘time tattoos’ as they had been colloquially named. The Doctor had broken the news that there wasn’t a way to get rid of them unless a person’s soulmate died. And wasn’t that a depressing thought!

You were again seeking refuge in your lab, your mood having plummeted knowing you’d likely never find your soulmate. The team had been discussing it at lunch in the break room, which was fine. Until Osgood started sharing the calculations she did to work out the probability of meeting your soulmate. To say that there was minimal chance was an understatement, even if you’re able to narrow down the time zone.

Deciding to distract yourself from the melancholy cloud, you had put your headphones in and began experimenting on a sample McGillop asked you to check. The music blasting in your ears meant that you didn’t hear the door to the lab open.

A hand touching your shoulder made you jump and drop the test tube you were holding. The glass rattled as it hit the desk, but thankfully didn’t smash. You quickly wiped up the solvent that spilled from the tube, before turning to face the visitor.

“Fuck Kate, you scared the hell out of me!” you said, pulling your headphones out. “What’s up?”

“Sorry. I didn’t realise you had headphones in,” Kate apologised. “Osgood said she might have upset you. I thought maybe you’d be more responsive to me, if she did?”

“She didn’t upset me. I just needed to get out of my head,” you murmured, lowering your gaze to the table.

“I thought you’d come to terms with not finding your soulmate?” Kate asked, taking your arm and gently pulling you to the stools nearby.

You shrugged, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your head before responding. “I had. That wasn’t what was initially bothering me.”

“So, what was?” She probed.

“What did you mean by feeling a click with someone?” you asked hesitantly.

“That’s what is –“ Kate chucked, shaking her head. “It’s not necessarily a click, that’s just how I’d describe it. Like something just –“ She clicked her fingers together. “– clicks in your head that this person is who you want to be around. Someone you feel comfortable with, who eases those negative voices in your head. Someone you’d spend all day with, because it’s easier to breathe when they’re around.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “All this time I thought I’d never clicked with anyone, but I know exactly what you mean…”

Kate was right, sometimes there was an obvious click. Unfortunately for you, the only person you’d ever felt this way with, was sat in front of you. Your very attractive, intelligent and kind boss who it was definitely not appropriate to think about that way.

Just as Kate was about to break the contemplative silence, Osgood’s voice rang through your earpiece demanding your presence in the control room. You both shot up and headed towards the door, not liking the wheezing mingled in with her words. Something had clearly happened that was causing her to panic.

Upon reaching the control room, you flinched at the amount of noise from everyone fussing. Kate squeezed your arm in sympathy, her ears also not liking the bombardment of sound after the quiet stillness of the lab.

The large screen on the wall indicated that a spacecraft was approaching the Earth’s atmosphere and showed no signs of slowing down. You sighed, nodding at Kate as she commented exactly what you were thinking – it was going to be a long night. You plopped yourself down in the chair next to Osgood, hoping to help her identify the species.

Kate started barking orders, wanting a visual on the craft as soon as it entered the Earth’s atmosphere. The field team stood watching, helicopter waiting on the landing pad, ready to move out if they were needed.

Everyone was beginning to get antsy when the craft had entered the atmosphere but was still not communicating with those calling out over the radio.

You and Osgood had brought the satellite images up on the computer screen in front of you, hoping to recognise the ship. You had never seen the ship before, however, something else caught your eye. Pointing at the screen, you asked Osgood to confirm what you were seeing. An expletive left her mouth when she came to the same realisation you had.

“Ma’am!” you called, gaining Kate’s attention. “You may want to see this.”

She nodded and quickly walked over to you, trusting her scientists’ instincts. “What is it?”

“It looks more like smoke rather than a contrail. Sky fall protocol?” You asked, pointing at the dark trail on the screen.

“It is a bit dark for vapour. Is there any way you can check it is smoke?” Kate bit her lip, brows furrowed as she zoomed in further on the screen.

“Not nearly quick enough if it is crashing. Os, could we confirm with the trajectory data?” You turned to the other scientist, tapping your pen on your thigh.

“Should be able to by now. The speed could also be a determining factor,” Osgood said, nodding at your suggestion.

She pulled the data up on her screen and began mapping it. The trajectory was steep, the craft heading towards the Earth at high speeds. Osgood commented that it was likely a crash, but you didn’t know the specifications of the craft, so it could be made to land that way.

At the disconcerted hum from Kate, you knew you needed an answer and quickly ran through your knowledge of alien craft. You suggested Osgood add other landing craft data we had to the trajectory model. Bringing the data up on the screen, you both confirmed it was 90% likely to be a crash. Compared to the data you had from all the other spacecraft, the one heading towards Earth was an anomaly.

Kate nodded at the new information, changing her orders to those in the control room. Rather than a meet and greet situation, it was a locate and contain. You all needed to know where that craft was going to crash immediately.

One of the other analysts in the room had managed to give an estimate of the crash site. Kate demanded the coordinates. The analyst responded. The expletive left your mouth alongside Osgood’s this time. The space craft was heading directly towards a known Silurian hibernation nest. Without knowing the specs of the craft, you had no idea if the crash would breach the nest’s oxygen pockets or not.

“Please don’t tell me that’s a Silurian nest location,” Kate groaned, letting her head fall back to look at the ceiling.

“I’m afraid so. I don’t think it’s the same nest you’ve been dealing with though.” You tried to reassure, a sympathetic wince on your face.

“Small mercies,” she mumbled. Regaining her composure she thought of possible solutions. “Can we estimate the size of the crater this craft will cause?”

“Not without knowing the density of the metal the ship is made from,” Osgood replied, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“How much time do we have to impact?” you asked.

“Less than two minutes. It’s only taking this long because of its shape, it’s acting almost like a parachute,” the analyst stated.

You had several ideas that could have helped in this situation, but it was too late to implement them. You listened as Kate directed the field team to head towards the expected crash site, telling them they would be updated en-route.

She turned to you and Osgood, requesting you join her in the car convoy. The quicker the science team was on the ground, the quicker the species that crashed could be identified. You both nodded and followed her towards the labs to grab the offsite kits.

Osgood managed to quickly pack her laptop, intending to keep an eye on the satellite data as we travelled to the crash site. When you got to the car, she insisted on sitting in the backseat claiming that the darkened windows would lessen the glare on the laptop screen. Kate shrugged, tugging on her sunglasses and situating herself in the driver’s seat.

You slid into the passenger seat next to her, buckling your seat belt before digging through your bag for your sunglasses. You were used to Kate driving, her preferring to be in control of the vehicle when going somewhere, but you seldom sat next to her in the front. You had to make a concerted effort not to keep looking at her, like you often could when sat behind.

“You thought of an idea back there in the control room. What was it?” Kate asked, turning the radio down.

“Oh, it was nothing. They probably wouldn’t work anyway,” you said, waving her off.

“Don’t be silly, you always have brilliant ideas.” The blonde smiled at you briefly before looking back at the road.

“We have so much alien tech that could be useful in this situation,” you mumbled.

“Like what?” Osgood asked curiously.

“Well, there is the obvious like that feathering device or a shrink ray. But there are other devices that could help situationally, like the Time Scoop…” you mentioned. “I know the Doctor wouldn’t approve, but it could prevent fatalities in the future.”

“How would the Time Scoop help?” Kate questioned, intrigued with your thought process.

“It’s pandimensional, right? So, it can move things in space as well as time. In this case, we could have moved the crashing ship to a random field without a Silurian nest under it,” you explained.

“That’s an interesting theory. We could do some tests with it to see if we can utilise it in the future,” Kate concluded. “But that stays between us.” Kate looked at both of you sternly, knowing that the Time Scoop could not get into the wrong hands.

UNIT shouldn’t have even had it, given that the Doctor had said it was forbidden. It was pure chance it had ended up in UNITs vast archives. Somehow Captain Harkness had ended up with it and UNIT found it when going through the ruins of Torchwood Cardiff. If it wasn’t for their archivist keeping immaculately detailed records, the UNIT scientists wouldn’t have known what it was.

The rest of the journey was pretty quiet; the sound of the radio only interrupted by Osgood updating you on the satellite data and the occasional chatter on the comms. From the initial reports, it didn’t look like the crash site was too deep and the field team hadn’t run into any Silurians yet.

It was beginning to get dark by the time you arrived at the crash site, the journey longer than you thought it would be due to the winding country roads. Not wanting to waste any light you still had, you grabbed the scanner from your bag and hopped out the car.

Osgood followed behind you, her pace slower, preferring to observe rather than jump in headfirst. She set up the laser scanner, her first priority was to check that the craft hadn’t penetrated the Silurian nest.

Meanwhile, you had made your way into the crater and was scanning the ship, hoping to identify its origin. The first thing you noticed was that the ship was still held together relatively well, only the front portion having been crushed as it hit the ground. You pulled off a bit of the hanging damaged metal and slid it into your coat pocket, intending to take it back to the lab for testing.

You were taking a three-dimensional scan of the ship to map the layout when you noticed the fluid dripping out the side of the ship. You dismissed it, planning to go back for a sample when you’d finished the scan. It wasn’t until you reached the end of the ship that a spark caught your eye.

“Shit,” you whispered, quickly pressing save on the scan and turning to begin the climb up the side of the crater. “Everyone needs to immediately retreat. Recommended radius of at least 200 meters.”

“You heard her, everyone move back!” Kate commanded. “You okay?” she asked, her voice softening.

“For now,” you murmured, briefly turning back to check whether the pooling fluid had reached the sparking wire. “I have a feeling I’m about to not be.”

“Just keep going, you’ll be fine,” she reassured.

You continued clambering out of the crater. As you reached the top, you were glad to see everyone had moved further away. You started running away from the crater when you heard a crackle behind you.

A louder pop sounded, and you knew exactly what was about to happen. The blast wave knocked into you, throwing you forwards a few feet. You had managed to get far enough away that you only just felt the heat on your back through your clothes. The majority of your pain had resulted from hitting the ground.

You turned your head to take note of your current position, and were glad to see the flames were not close to you. The smoke was irritating your lungs, so you probably needed to move, but you weren’t in any immediate danger.

The sound of people rushing towards you was missed due to the ringing in your ears. A gentle hand touched your shoulder, causing you to turn. You smiled as you looked up at Kate, the blonde having dropped to her knees beside you. Her dark eyes were assessing you, her forehead creased in concern.

“I really can’t catch a break with all these shock waves,” you said, rolling your eyes in overly exaggerated exasperation.

“Better the shockwave, than the explosion,” Kate commented, her lips twitching up at your humour. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit bruised from flying into the ground,” you sighed.

She squeezed your shoulder, then ghosted her hand down over your arm to your elbow, cupping it as she helped you up. You let her pull you up, hands grasping at her arms as you stumbled into her when a wave of pain rippled through you.

“Kate,” you gasped, feeling the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “I don’t think I’m okay.” You looked down and saw the broken piece of metal protruding from the right side of your abdomen.

“Darling, look at me, you’re going to be fine,” Kate reassured, trying not to let you see how worried she was. Her eyes flickered away from you, a hint of relief clouding with the worry. “The medics are on their way.”

You hadn’t noticed Osgood on the other side of you, Kate commanding your attention as always. The other scientist had called for a medic over the comms and had wordlessly confirmed to Kate that they were on their way. You tried to look over at Osgood, but Kate held you firmly, mumbling that you needed to stay still.

Apart from the pain in your side, you felt fine. A little voice in your head pointed out that you were probably in shock. You maintained the opinion that it just looked worse than it was, but didn’t mind being glued to Kate.

The medics had arrived a few minutes later and manoeuvred you onto a gurney. You felt strangely bereft after being removed from Kate’s side. You unconsciously reached out to her as the medics put an oxygen mask on you. She took your hand in a firm grip, walking next to you towards the helicopter.

Although staying with you, you could hear her barking orders to the soldiers through the comms. You reached to your ear wondering why you couldn’t hear the slight echo like normal. Your earpiece was missing. Your brain filled in that it must have been knocked out during the shockwave.

“I’ve got it,” Osgood said next to you. You turned to look at her, face scrunching, confused what she was on about. “Your earpiece, I’ve got it, it was on the ground near you,” she filled in.

“Thank you,” you murmured, lifting the oxygen mask off, only to be reprimanded by all three people around you. “Sorry,” you huffed, dropping it back onto your face with a sheepish look.

“You inhaled a lot of smoke, it’s safer to keep it on for now,” Osgood explained.

Kate let go of your hand as you were loaded into the helicopter. You watched her pull Osgood and the medic to the side but couldn’t hear what she was saying. She must have received good news in response as some of the tension slipped from her shoulders.

Thanking the medic, she climbed into the helicopter. You stopped watching Osgood talk to McGillop to pay attention to Kate as she sat next to you.

“Hey, they say you’re going to be just fine. Just a small operation to remove the metal and control any bleeding,” Kate explained to you.

“Tell them to keep the metal. The rest was blown up. Please, we need to test it,” you pleaded, once again removing your mask.

“I will, but you should really be concentrating on ensuring you’re okay.” Kate shook her head but knew she would be exactly the same if the roles were reversed. “Is that why the metal was in your pocket?”

“I put it in my pocket before I noticed the fuel leaking. I forgot about it,” you whined, pouting at the absurdity.

“Okay, new protocol, nothing sharp put in pockets,” she stated, raising her eyebrow at you. You nodded, internally agreeing that it was a silly thing to do. “Osgood is going to come with you, while I sort everything here. I’ll check on you as soon as I can.”

“I’m fine Kate, do what you need to do,” you said, smiling as she squeezed your hand.

She smiled back at you, the small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, that one she used when she was feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She pulled away from the grasp on your left hand, leaning over you to cover your right hand and move the oxygen mask back to your face. She then batted your hand away and told you to keep it on.

You saluted at her, with a “yes ma’am” muffled by the mask. She let out a short bark of laughter as she stepped off the helicopter, telling you to behave. You had to make a concerted effort not to grin, not wanting to dislodge the mask.

Kate watched you until Osgood had joined you on the helicopter and the doors were closed, before turning back to the crash site. She closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, needing to focus on the task at hand rather than let her mind wander and worry about you.

The medical officers seemed calm on the journey back to headquarters, only keeping an eye on your sats. Osgood kept you engaged, asking you about the ship and if you had any theories. You showed her your scans, and she confirmed your assumptions that the Silurian nest hadn’t been disturbed. You both agreed that it looked like the ship may have still been functioning enough to use the thrusters, reducing the impact of the crash.

You wondered if there was anyone alive in the ship when it crashed. You hoped not, thinking a quick death from impact would be better than exploding. Osgood tried to distract you from the morbid thoughts, reminding you about the plant that you were analysing last week.

Time passed in a whirlwind when you got to headquarters. You were whisked into the operating theatre and put under general anaesthetic while they patched you up. It was luckily a simple operation, the surgeon only needing to repair a small tear, as the metal hadn’t penetrated very far.

When you woke up properly, everything was a bit muddled in your brain. You spent ten minutes just staring at the ceiling trying to work out what had happened. You were just piecing everything together when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, you. Heard theatre was a success,” Kate said quietly as she entered the room.

“Hi,” you croaked. You brought your hand up to cough and turned to look for some water. You knew the medical officer left some after making you eat something.

Kate reached your side quickly and poured some water for you. “Here you go, drink this slowly.”

“Thanks,” you replied after quenching your parched throat. “What happened with the craft?”

“Everything is sorted. Nothing to worry about. Has the medical officer been to see you?” Kate waved you off, trying to get you to focus on yourself.

“Mhmm. I was still quite out of it though. Did they keep the metal?” You asked, passing the cup back to her.

“They did, but you are not moving from this bed until at least the afternoon,” Kate told you sternly. She placed the cup on the table and sat in the chair beside your bed. “They said you can be up and about by then, but don’t do anything strenuous.”

“The metal didn’t do any internal damage?” You were sure you were just being optimistic when you thought it just looked worse than it was.

“A little, but nothing our advanced equipment couldn’t expediate the healing of. How do you feel?” Kate queried.

“Floaty. Tired. A little stiff maybe…” You assessed, fidgeting slightly to see if there was any pain yet. “They gave me morphine?”

“Not that I was told. Let me check,” Kate replied, leaning to grab the folder from the end of the bed. She flipped to the right page and read through the notes. “No morphine. Looks like they gave you a dissolvable codeine tablet about an hour and a half ago, as soon as you woke up.”

“Not much pain then if I only needed codeine. That’s promising for recovery. What time is it anyway?” Your watch had been removed, but it was still dark outside.

“Early hours of the morning. You should get some sleep. I’ll –“ Kate stood from the chair; she went to reach for your hand put pulled back at the last minute. “I’ll come back later, when you’ve had time to rest.”

“Kate?” you called as she reached the end of the bed. “Make sure you sleep too.” You tried to give her your best stern look, but it didn’t really work given the state you were in. She smiled at your attempt and nodded before walking out the door.

The mixture of the stress on your body, anaesthetic and how late it had gotten meant you fell into a deep dreamless state pretty easily. It was probably the longest you’d slept in a while, which was surprising given how many times the medical staff checked on you throughout the night. You didn’t wake up until almost nine hours after Kate left.

You were still a bit drowsy upon waking, the lasting effects of the anaesthetic still affecting you. You looked around the room, finding it empty but with a surprising amount of sunlight. The sun hit your arm, warming your skin. The light drew your eyes to the time on your wrist.

“Huh, that’s strange. How likely is it that someone falls asleep at exactly the same time?” you whispered, rubbing your thumb over the writing.

A/N: I'm so sorry, I promise I hadn't planned on blowing you up! It was so hard to hold the scientist back in me with this chapter. I tried to keep technical language to a minimum.

Tags: @freshmoneyalmondathlete @suckerforcate

#kate lethbridge stewart #kate lethbridge stewart x reader #kate stewart #kate stewart x reader #f!reader #unit #maybe not so useless after all?#still a bit useless

19 notes · View notes