#thanks for tagging me I was running out of things to distract myself with at 1:30 AM

[mingigoo]

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?” 

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.” 

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on���

“I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly.  “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park. 

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips. 

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear. 

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak. 

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.” 

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round. 

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong. 

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator. 

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita. 

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person. 

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you. 

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing. 

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously. 

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender. 

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. 

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together. 

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to. 

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?” 

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side. 

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water. 

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door. 

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened. 

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned. 

Moaned. 

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin. 

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,” 

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—” 

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity. 

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini. 

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin. 

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.” 

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last. 

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him. 

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you. 

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't. 

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him. 

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you. 

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders. 

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze. 

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours. 

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace. 

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.” 

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively. 

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment. 

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste. 

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours. 

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

 “I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

[prozacwhorehouse]

camera roll 📷 | mgg x snl cast member au

in which you do a variety ‘what’s in my camera roll?’ interview and reveal moments from your life

authors note: this lowk sucks but new subplot alert?? i love I used to be funny so i just had to. matthew mixed in with some background for our snl reader ✅

“Hi Variety, this is y/n y/l/n,” you smile and and give a wave to the camera, “and today I’m showing you what’s in my camera roll.”

“This is a picture of me at the premier for a movie I did in 2022, called I Used To Be Funny,” you turn your phone towards the camera, revealing a picture a friend took of you posing underneath the title outside a movie theater in Los Angeles.

“I had the pleasure of running into the very talented Ally Pankiw at an event in 2022, and when she said she’d seen my shows and asked me if I’d audition, I read the script and immediately felt drawn to it,” you speak with your hands, imitating an emulation from your body. “It was funny, it was devastating, it’s an incredible story that I’m so honored to have helped tell.”

“I always wanted to be an actress. So landing that role the same year I was cast on SNL, just a dream come true.” you smile warmly at the memory, moving on to your next picture.

You huff out a laugh looking at the next picture, “aww. I love this one, a lot,” you again turn your phone towards the camera, revealing a picture of Marcello, you, Michael, Molly, and Devon on set.

“This is me and my SNL 22 Crew, which is the name of our group chat,” you nod, “pretty sure this was right before our first show. we were so nervous but it was all okay because we had each other. We were all in the same boat, and that was comforting. Ugh,” you sigh, tilting your head up and smiling, “I just love them so much.”

“it was really hard to pick this next one because my camera roll is currently 60 percent him. All he says is ’wait take a picture’, so now I just have a whole collection of silly photos,” you roll your eyes in fake annoyance, trying to distract from the blush that has crept on your face while talking about him.

‘I’m not entirely sure where we were here, all I know is anything Halloween, Matthew wants a picture with. We had dressed up all crazy, I had on an insane fall sweater and like, striped witch tights. I do really love mismatching clothes, layering and looking insane, which I don’t really see a lot of guys doing?” you furrow your brows and squint your eyes in thought, releasing when admitting, “so I feel really seen by him. He isn’t afraid to be himself, so it makes me feel like I can be myself too. It’s amazing. He’s great. I’m very thankful for him.”

“Aww,” you jut your lip out, heart melting over the picture. “I was having a really rough week. I remember my sketch got cut, and I couldn’t think of how to make them better. I walked into my bathroom one morning and Matthew had stuck this on my mirror. I have so many pictures of these, but I picked this one because it was the first.”

You hum, “I could go on, but, I won’t,” you laugh, tilting your head back down to your phone, quickly exhaling to get back on track, “anyways!” Causing the crew to laugh behind the camera.

And the comments are all like

Loved her in I Used To Be Funny. So talented!

I hope she’s on SNL for a while, she’s one of the best additions in a while

The way she talks about Matthew is the cutest thing

Its so cute that y/n and Matthew are getting more public with their relationship, this is the first time she’s mentioned him by name

THE NOTE HE LEFT HER I NEED TO SEE THE OTHERS

—————————————————————————

tag list <3

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn @princess-ofthe-pages @flow33didontsmoke

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

[terribleinfluence-tour]

Let’s address the situation

Recently an anonymous reddit/twitter user has accused me of being a stalker of dan and phil because of the way this blog is run.

So, let’s talk about it.

Let’s start with the absolute facts: I have never posted anything to this blog that wasn’t public information.

1. I have never doxxed the location of the tour bus.

Things i have posted about the tour bus: a photo from a crew member where the bus company was visible, a story that Kelly posted that was location tagged to a road in the middle of nowhere showing that dan and phil weren’t in vegas on oct 19.

Reasons why I don’t believe this to be wrong: Any of you who have waited at stage door can see the company is written on the bus, it is not confidential information, knowing the bus companies name does not give you any personal information about dan and phil. As for the location tag, it was in the middle of nowhere, they were already in their next location when it was posted, I was not the first person to post this story, i only posted it cos It was already all over twitter. (however this is the only story i’ve posted that i will gladly take criticism for despite my justifications)

2. I have only posted stories from 2 crew members: Kelly and Sarah. These are public instagram accounts. I only post their stories that are related to the tour itself. I am not the only person and I was not the first person to post these stories anywhere. I have never posted anything from any crew who have private accounts because 1) i can’t see that content cos I obviously do not follow those accounts and 2) i don’t post private information, it’s private for a reason.

I did not seek out the crew accounts, i didn’t not look for them myself, i only knew what they were because multiple people had already been posting the stories from the accounts way before me on both twitter and tumblr. Both these people know phannies follow them on instagram, they’re not going to post anything with information they don’t want you to know.

Despite my justifications, from now on I will be cropping out the usernames of these crew members who do share stuff publicly and in captions i will only be referring to them as crew.

3. Audio Recordings.

First disclaimer: I have never encouraged video recording of the show! I think that it’s distracting to dan and phil and i really think you should be living in the moment when you see this show. There is a reason we have never posted videos of the show on this blog even in our spoiler tag. I believe audio recording to be more harmless because you can just put your phone out of the way and it’s distracting no one at all.

The concept of sharing audio recordings of the show were not my idea, this started on the european leg of the tour by people on twitter, If you look back at the recordings i have posted you’ll see that all the europe audios (apart from antwerp) do not link to our google drive. I did decide to carry this on during the American leg.

I have never forced anyone to do this, I have only approached 1 person directly to see if they could record. The rest were all volunteers who saw my posts asking if anyone would do it and they all came to me on their own accord.

I very much understand the criticism on audio recording shows, however I want to look at this from not only a preservation effort but also as a way to make this show accessible to people who might for whatever reason not be able to attend as well as it being a way for you to go and listen to the show you attend again if you wanted to.

This being said I am no longer going to ask for specific shows and instead say that if you just happen to audio record a show and would be willing to let me post it then you can message me (@danrifics ) and i will post it. (this goes for the australian leg and the UK leg too) I will also at the end of the tour make a post with what’s missing and we’ll see if anyone recorded or not.

Finally I want to thank everyone for their continued support of the blog and its archiving efforts and I hope you all stick with me while we change things a little bit and I look forward to continuing to share content with you all and I can’t wait to reveal a few blog pages we’ve been working on!

- Bethanie

[strandnreyes]

favorite fandom memories

thanks @thisbuildinghasfeelings for starting this and tagging me to share my favorite fandom moments throughout my time here!

here are five moments for five years I've been here :')

1. Watching push live

such a vivid memory. we were in the trenches and no one knew when or if TK and Carlos were getting back together in the episode. no one even knew why they broke up!! the post-episode high was unmatched. i walked on cloud all of the next day. so so cathartic

i can hear the music in this gif. it takes me right back to 01/31/2022

2. two bts moments that changed my life

this pre-3x18 still that was the moment the fandom knew the proposal was coming. lives were changed. and HONEYMOON POOL on the call sheet!! just knowing we'd even see their honeymoon?? lives were changed!!

3. friends

every friend i've gotten to meet through fandom, especially the ones i've gotten to plot fics with and cheer each other on, ones that i theorize with and run to with every bit of information, ones who i know beyond the bounds of fandom, ones i've sent and received mail from, one who i get to listen to about their days <3 ily i wish i could sit on your couches with a warm beverage and talk about the show forever

4. off the deep end

the day i caught up with the first 3 episodes of the show ready to watch 1x04 live. i was done being distracted, was heading to the library to lock in for an upcoming exam. i sit at a desk. i get out my phone (classic procrastination) and whoops, i've discovered this live. i tell myself i'll watch it later and i really need to study. i proceed to watch the entire thing. i haven't even opened my backpack. i knew i was fuuuuuUcked

5. posting my first fic

it was such a spur of the moment decision to decide to write for me. i wrote half of this thing on the notes app on my phone and then had to figure out how the hell ao3 worked. and i was blown away by comments!!! there were real live people telling me they liked what i wrote!! i read the emails in the bar bathroom and was so happy adsfasdf transformative experience

open tag plus @reyesstrand @paperstorm @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland @lightningboltreader @rmd-writes @emsprovisions @herefortarlos @lutavero @lonestardust @marjansmarwani @she-walked-away !!

[boundbyeclipse]

Okay so I saw your prompt list and I was wondering if you’d be able to write prompt 1 from angst with prompt 4 from smut for Kai?? I would literally DIE if it’s possible + your writing I literally amazing

hi, precious! oh of course I can, you request - I deliver! ps. my heart is happy, thank you so so much, it means a lot to me 🥺 ilysm ♡

tag : jealous!reader, vampire!reader, female!reader, rough!Kai, boyfriend!Kai, mentions of Bonnie

prompts are here.

♠️ 1. “Just go hang out with Person C. You’ve gotten good at that”

⛓️ 4. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

It wasn’t just a little argument. It wasn’t anything close to a small fight. You actually had rage exploding out of you. You were so fed up with seeing how Kai talks to Bonnie, how he flashes her a smile, how much time he spends with her and how he just cannot stop talking about her in general. It annoyed the hell out of you to the point you grew angry, jealous and wanted to never see him again.

You stood in front of him behind the school building, face to face, no people in sight as it was late at night. It was finally time to show him you were fed up with everything he’s been doing.

“I am so sick and tired of this bullshit, Kai. I’m right. Here. And yet you aren’t listening to me!”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. You’re quite literally an ignited match right now, you’re burning with all this anger” he raises his hands in the air, taking a step forward, but you take a step back.

“Yes, yes I am! Tell me, is she better than me? Is she prettier? Does she make you feel alive? What is it, Malachai?”

The name makes him scrunch his nose, but it’s just because you’re both fighting. Under any other condition, he always loves it. And you are the only person he accepts it from. If anyone else says it, he gets irritated and mad.

“What are you even talking about right now? There���s nothing going on, I have no interest in her, my eyes are all on you”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Just go hang out with Bonnie. You’ve gotten good at that”

Using your vamp-speed you run into the building, getting inside the gym and sitting down on the bottom of the stairs, burying your face in your palms as you tried to calm down. Then you began to regret starting this fight with him. Maybe you’re just overreacting, imagining what isn’t there because you’re so in love with Kai, that the simplest things make you jealous. Like a few weeks ago when he was talking to another girl who he only needed help from to find some sort of a spell. They only spoke, exchanged smiles, that’s it. And you still found yourself grinding your teeth at the sight. Maybe you really are overreacting.

As you stare at the floor while fiddling your fingers, the door opens and closes - Kai has found you.

“Are you really going to throw another tantrum at me?” he asks, walking towards you in quick steps, stopping right in front of you. You couldn’t bear it, so you stood up, bodies so close to each other that you felt one another’s breaths on your faces.

“Kai, I just cannot stand how you act around her. I feel left out, like I’m never here, like I don’t exist sometimes. And yes, maybe it’s my stupid brain that makes me think this way, act this way, maybe it’s too much. So tell me, what the hell is going on so I know. I don’t want to hurt myself or you”

He moves even closer to you, and you didn’t think it was even possible to be this close to him. Not during a fight. A heavy sigh leaves his lips, heartbeat intense as he cannot help but feel the tension between you both. He’s so angry that you’re like this, so angry that he wants to prove to you that all he wants is you.

“You have always trusted me. So why can’t you trust me now when I say there is nothing between me and Bonnie? Why?”

“Maybe because I need you to prove it” your lower lip trembled as you inhaled the scent of his cologne, mixed with the smell of leather of his jacket. It was some sort of a distraction, you could feel lust beginning to wash over your body, and Kai was able to notice. He’s known you long enough to know your body language. He knew when you were sad, when you felt shy, nervous, bothered. Even sexually frustrated. And that was the case right now.

Especially the way you kept looking at his lips, even if that lasted for a second.

He knew you wanted to taste him. He knew you wanted him to yourself and yourself only. It was a tad bit too easy to read you. But he wanted to get it out from you, so he did not make any moves.

“You know damn well that I can see it in your eyes - you cannot keep it together. From head to toe you’re shaking with desire, I can tell that my cologne is driving you insane. Your heart is racing a thousand miles per hour,” he teased you with words, his voice husky and inviting, “so go ahead, kiss me. Be jealous. Be overprotective”

You bit your lip, blood boiling as you snapped at him, voice silvery.

“If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

Kai grins, leaning closer to your ear to whisper.

“So kiss me”

Your temper is short lived as you grab his face, landing your warm lips on his, not wasting any time to slip your tongue in his mouth. With your vamp-speed you end up in the hall, Kai pressing you against the lockers, his cold fingertips touching your skin under your shirt. A filthy moan escaping from you as he picks you up, his large hands firmly holding the back of your thighs.

In a second, you’re in a classroom, laid on the desk, Kai kissing and sucking your neck, earning small whimpers from you. He pushes your skirt up, all over you as he grinds himself against your heated core. His jeans tighten within seconds, becoming more and more unbearable as he continues to bite your collarbone. His hands squeeze your hips as he groans against your skin as he cannot contain himself no more.

Kai unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down, letting his length spring against his stomach, rock hard and throbbing with need.

“You want me to prove myself to you, hm?” he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, your thighs hugging his waist as he lines himself at your clothed entrance.

“Y-yes” you moan eagerly, waiting for his next move.

“I’ll make sure the whole town hears you, and I’ll leave you limping, everyone will be jealous of YOU, sweetheart”

The pads of his fingers ghost over your underwear, suddenly pulling it away as he enters you without a warning. You gasp and grab the sides of the desk, your insides pulsing with each thrust. He’s almost too big for you to take, but you love the way he stretches you out. You buck your hips against him, but Kai presses you down as his hands hold you down by your hip bones, fingers bruising the skin.

“Ma-Malachai” you cry out.

“Don’t you move. You brought this upon yourself. Now take it”

His thrusts become rougher and deeper, one hand reaching for your throat, squeezing the sides as he grunts from above you. The table underneath you shakes, sliding across the floor, all the papers and pencils falling down as Kai buried himself deeply in you. But he couldn’t care less about that. He was focused on you.

Your leg begins to cramp, and you grab his wrist, squeezing it and tapping it.

But Kai wasn’t going to stop. He pulled out, lifting you up and flipping you around, your ass on full display for him. He grabs one leg of yours, lifting it up so he has better access to your dripping folds. In a second he’s back inside of you, now leaning over you as he has his arm around your throat, his low and smoky moans heard in your ear. His other hand is holding your leg, hips slamming against you with no mercy.

Your eyes rolled back from the ecstasy he’s put you in, his name leaving your mouth in loud cries, echoing through the whole building. He feels so good that tears fall from your eyes, legs shaking and torso jolting as his tip hits the right spot. You can sense your high coming, your core pulsing and walls tightening around his length.

“Come on, love, hold on a little longer. You’re not cumming until I do” he warns.

His command makes you choke on your words, voice barely coming out with a little “yes”. Kai smirks at your attempt to reply, finding it hot that you’re so affected by him.

Kai pulls out again, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden desk, one hand wrapped around your waist as his other one holds you by the back of your neck. He gifts you a sloppy but passionate kiss, biting your lip in the process. You moan his name again, letting him know that there is no possibility you’ll last any longer. Knowing he’s almost done too, he buries his face in the crook of your neck while his hand reaches to squeeze your breast, kneading the hard nipple.

The classroom is soon filled with both of your moans as you explode, cumming around his length, black dots in your vision, Kai spilling himself inside you. Both of you catch your breaths, hugging for some time before fixing yourselves.

“Have I proven myself?” he asks, throwing on his jacket.

“If you’ll take me home and make me a bath with bubbles, mission will be accomplished”

Kai shakes his head, chuckling at you as he unexpectedly picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and carries you out of the school.

“This woman, tsk tsk tsk” he clicks his tongue and smacks your butt as he holds you tight, not letting you down until you’re finally back at his house.

[beebee3832]

Sweet Fae

Bear shifter!Price x Fairy!(fem)Reader (whose wings are paralyzed)

Tags: Predator/prey dynamic, size difference, just a bit scary, gore, death, shy reader, kinda awkward Price, a little fluff, building into fluff and smut (in future parts), CRINGE

This one is in Price's perspective!!

Note: Fairies in this fic are just really short, not super small like in Tinkerbell or something. Also, I made slight changes to this fic from the last time I posted it. Sorry for not uploading in a while!! I was pretty busy with life stuff.

Thanks for reading!! <3

    I stood there, tears resting on my cheeks, and watched her walk away without a word. No response to my quiet plea, just a slight turn of her beautiful face to look back at me. Though not a word was said, our locked gaze held a meaning that couldn’t be shaken.

    We would meet again.

    …

    With swift motions, I swung my axe over and over again. Even though the sun was going to set soon, the temperature remained just as warm as it was in its peak. Sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down to drop on the forest floor.

    My day was filled with constant attempts to get my mind off of her. Her small frame, her doe-like eyes, the way she held my face like we’d known each other for years…

    No! My thought scolded me as I shook my head. These feelings were just the byproduct of living on one’s own for too long, which is how it would stay. I didn’t need anyone messing up what I had built for myself. I was better off being left to my own devices. Who knows what I was capable of? Well, I guess I know even more based off of last night.

    That last thought made my chest sink. How could I be so out of control? How could I let myself stay out so late? I was lucky that the moon wasn’t full or else that poor girl’s fate would’ve been much different.

    “Damn it!” My yell echoed throughout the crowded forest, causing birds to shoot straight up from the trees and fly away.

    I looked up and saw that dusk had already settled in, making me realize that I needed to head back to the house. I didn’t even need to chop up more wood today; I already had enough wood for the next couple of weeks, but I was running out of things to do to distract my thoughts from that sweet faery. That sweet fairy I almost devoured. “Fuck,” I muttered, my self loathing starting to consume me.

    I gathered up my tools and two of the logs I cut and started to make my way back. The rest of the wood could be collected tomorrow.

    I took long strides to make it back in time before nightfall. My feet ached by the time I eventually made it back, which made me wince with every step I took. I dropped the logs and my tools somewhere near the front of the house; I was too tired to care or notice. Nothing and no one would steal from me anyways. Most of the forest knew what I was, so they chose not to come near me. No people were around either, unless you count the very few others like me that live here. We all had our respective territories though, and usually one does not cross them.

    Just as I was about to enter the house, I heard a slight rustle from behind me. Then I noticed a familiar…smell that piqued my interest. That smell…I knew that smell. I was ruminating on that smell for the whole fucking day. I eagerly glanced behind me, something my mind didn’t approve of. I shouldn’t have been that excited. I was supposed to be okay with being alone. Company was unwelcome.

    Those thoughts were interrupted when I saw her. Everything was interrupted when I saw her.

    She was just a couple feet away. I could smell her so clearly. Soft rain paired with some kind of flower. My chest tightened with the urge to reach out and envelop her in my arms, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare down at her with the same wide eyes she was giving me.

    Was she scared of me? Of course she is.

    Then why would she come back here? Was my mind toying with me? Did my loneliness finally grab hold of my sanity?

    She walked up to me and spoke in a soft and cautious tone.

    “Hello.”

    Hello. Hello.

    “Hello,” I muttered back awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Where was all my charm from the night before?

    She spoke again. “Can I come in?”

    Come in?

    I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sure, of course sweetheart. Come in,” I said, putting a warm smile on my face. I held the door open for her as she slowly walked inside. I noticed her scan my house like she did last night, searching for every possible escape I assumed. Smart girl. Still, it brought my smile down just a bit.

    I shut the door behind me and offered her a seat at my table. I already had a meal cooking before I went out on my useless attempts to distract myself.

    I gave her a portion and then sat down across from her, which once again reminded me of how small she was. Each wing of hers was smaller than my arms. She had to be at least a foot shorter than me, maybe more. I was definitely much stockier than her too. Such a perfect little thing compared to a monster like me. The bear in me was a little too excited over that.

    The sound of her voice startled me out of my trance.

    “You’re staring.” She looked at me with an almost fearful expression, which made me feel like shit. I was sure she was expecting me to kill her by then.

    “I-I’m sorry. I was just lost in thought, that’s all. Do you like the food?” I sputtered out.

    “It’s good,” she said with a slight smile on her face. Is she making fun of me or is she smiling because she likes it?

    She looked at me with thoughtful eyes. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here again, aren’t you?”

    Actually I’m wondering why I’m so obsessed with you.

    “You could say that, yes,” I said with a breathy laugh.

    She hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. I could tell that she was nervous to say it. My mind could only think of the worst things.

    “I wanted to see you again.”

    My eyes went wide for just a second. My heart exploded for just a second. She wanted to see me again? After I almost slaughtered her? After I had to save her from myself? After crying to her like a pathetic little boy?

    “You intrigue me. I’ve…I’ve never seen anything like you before,” she admitted shyly.

    I wished she’d never seen me in the first place. I wasn’t meant for sweet things like her and she most definitely wasn’t made for a savage thing like me.

    “You shouldn’t have had to,” I murmured, barely looking into her eyes now.

    She stood up from her seat and walked over to me. Even though she was standing, I was still a bit taller while sitting down. She looked up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, seemingly studying me.

    “I have a question,” I said.

    “What is it?”

    She was a forearms length away, which was too close for comfort. I could almost feel her breath on me. My heart skipped a beat.

    “Why?”

    Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why, what?”

    “Why would you want to see me again?” My voice was quiet.

    She smiled and let out a soft sigh. “I…I really don’t know.”

    Disappointment twinged inside me. Why was I disappointed? I should’ve wanted nothing to do with this fairy, but my heart wanted her to at least be a little glad about seeing me again.

    “I suppose I was just intrigued by you,” she said sheepishly.

    Just then, the hairs on my body stood up. My eyes widened and my body as I felt an unfamiliar presence close by, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the fairy in front of me.

    “Hey, what’s going on?” Her voice wavered.

    I ignored her. Something wasn’t right, and I needed to find out what. I quickly stood up and rushed to open the curtains to my window just a sliver, noticing that the sky was dark once again. Shit.

    I quickly closed the curtain in fear of my bear coming out in front of her. The moon’s light touching my face would become a disaster for her if I wasn’t careful. I didn’t even want to think about it.

    Suddenly, I heard it. Something was circling too close to my house. Something was ignoring the boundaries of my territory. The thought enraged my bear. Usually, I would kill a creature–or even a person–for this, but with her here, I couldn’t bring myself to. For some reason, I wanted her to know that she could be safe with me, even when that was far from the truth.

    I took a second to hone my senses to focus on what was outside…

    A shifter. The realization made my bear even more upset.

    I heard it sniffing the door, no doubt trying to find a way to get in. I glanced over to the pretty fairy and saw her eyes jolt open when she heard it too. My first instinct was to kill, but instead, I made my way over to her. I could see her shake from fear, making me even more angry at the stupid thing in my territory.

    “Sweethear–”

    Her eyes shot up at me. “Wh-what is that?” She said in a whisper that I could barely hear. I needed to do something fast. This stupid creature was ruining my chances at ever having some sort of connection with her. That very thought made my heart beat fast in my chest with panic. I had to do something to get it away from here without scaring her, but that was going to be very difficult to do.

    I gingerly held her hands in mine, looking into her wide teary eyes. “Listen to me. You’re gonna be alright sweetie, but you need to hide somewhere away from any windows alright?” I kept my voice low and steady. She nodded frantically and then went to hide under the kitchen table. Good enough.

    I returned my focus to the outside. That shifter would pay. My bear was already aching to turn and protect what’s ours. I decided that I’d have to sneak through one of the windows. The moon’s light would make me automatically shift but hopefully she wouldn’t see it. I ran to the back window, opened it, and jumped out.

    Fuck! I could feel the sharp pain all throughout my entire body as soon as the night’s air touched my skin. My bones broke and creaked and stretched in unimaginable ways. I could feel tufts of fur painfully shoot out from my body. I couldn’t even hear my grunts through the ringing in my ears.

    My vision blurred with tears until it became even clearer than ever before. The night wasn’t so dark anymore, signaling that I had fully turned. I would never get used to that feeling, no matter how many times I shifted.

    I wanted to take a breather like I normally did after my intense shifts, but I had no time. My bear was in control now and there was only one thought in his head.

    Protect what’s mine.

    My bear let out a roar, not thinking about how I was just trying not to scare the cute little fairy hiding in my house.

    The sudden thought of her suddenly turned my bear and I into a furious frenzy. Protect.

    I took quick and heavy steps toward the threat, making sure to make enough noise to distract it from getting in. When I finally saw it, my blood boiled even more. It was a wolf shifter. It had a long and droopy snout with saliva dripping from its mouth. Its dark fur would’ve made it almost impossible to see for the normal eye, but I could see it quite clearly. I could see every disgusting thing about it. Its hand, fit with long claws, had penetrated through the door, no doubt trying to unlock the door from the inside.

    Panic surged through me. This ends now.

    I charged over to it and shoved it down to the ground. I heard it let out a yelp, and then I felt claws slash through my back. The searing pain weakened me, making it easier for the wolf to gain the upper hand.

    It flipped me over with impossible strength, making my bear groan. I hurriedly hauled myself up before it could make another attack. He may have been strong, but he was no match for me. A bear was bigger than a wolf.

    He swiftly made his way back over to me to deliver another slash, but I caught his leg in my mouth and bit. Hard. The crunch echoed throughout the forest, as well as his pained howls. I stood to my full bear height, making him dangle from my mouth. I could taste blood starting to overflow in my mouth.

    The wolf continued to thrash and snarl in pain, making it harder to hold it up. The rest of its claws continued to slit through my skin, making me wince. Fuck.

    I whipped my head to the right to launch him toward a tree. Surprisingly, he got back up rather quickly.

    I went back down on all fours and stalked over to him, making sure to make my steps heavy. The ground almost shook below me. I looked down on him.

    Go. My bear said to it.

    The shifter just continued to bear its teeth at me, getting ready to throw another blow.

    I growled deep and thunderous. Go!

    Even a wolf of its size couldn’t help but be scared. It was stubborn, but not stupid. With one last snap of its teeth, it turned to limp away.

    The bear inside me huffed in amusement. What a stupid wolf, thinking it could invade my territory and survive. I jumped forward and crushed it below me. It howled and whined and shook until I opened my mouth wide and tore its neck open. The sound of bones shattering and tendons snapping filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. I stayed there holding it in my jaws until he stopped moving completely.

    Once I knew the shifter was dead, my bear’s mind went back to the faery in my house. I walked back to the house and shifted back. The pain was almost dulled by the exhaustion that had taken over me, and I fell to the floor, naked and unconscious.

    …

    When I finally woke up, I heard a pretty voice humming. I opened my eyes and saw that it was my fairy. My heart swelled when I saw that she was tending to my wounds.

    “Hello sweetheart.”

    She jumped a bit, but then gave me a worried smile. “How are you feeling?”

    Wonderful with you here. “I’m alright.”

    She let out a sigh of relief. Such a caring girl. She should’ve been gone by now, but she was here, taking care of someone who didn’t deserve it.

    When she was done tending to my various lacerations, she turned away. “Let me go make you something to–” I interrupted her with a firm grip on her arm.

    “Stay.”

    She looked back at me confused. Cautious. Understandably so, because I didn't even know why I said that.

    “Lay next to me sweetheart.” When she still didn’t move, I gave her a playful pout. “It’ll help me feel better.” When she rolled her eyes and sighed, I knew I had won.

    We laid together in silence for a few minutes. It was unlike any silence I had ever known in my decades of solitude. It was warm. Comfortable. It was a silence that set my heart at ease. If I could, I would lay in it forever.

    “What’s your name?”

    Her pretty voice made my thoughts scatter away. I turned to her and saw her bright eyes gazing at me expectedly.

    “John. John Price.”

    A soft smile showed on her face. “John. I like that. It’s a sturdy name.”

    “Sturdy?” I let out a loud and genuine laugh. “I’ve never heard that before, sweetheart.” What a strange girl. I loved it.

    She looked almost embarrassed with that shy smile of hers. Adorable. “Well, you know, it just sounds like it would belong to a reliable person? I don’t know!” A small giggle from her filled the room and my heart.

    “What’s your name, little fairy?”

    She said her name.

    “Pretty.” Like her. I wanted to know everything about her. Every nook and cranny of her mind. I was going insane. My loneliness had taken a toll on me, I realized. What happened to leaving her alone?

    That one question opened up to hours of conversation. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. But there was something on my mind; something that I had been thinking about ever since I met her.

    “What happened to your wings?” I questioned in between a dip of silence in the conversation. That took her by surprise.

    “My–what?” She averted her eyes away from me, and I could tell she was growing nervous.

    Shit. Why did I say that? Am I a child? Why can’t I just hold my tongue? Stupid stupid stupid. “I-nevermind. It’s none of my business, I-I’m sorry–”

    She put a finger on my lips, silencing me. That one fraction of a touch made my mind go quiet. It seemed to have the same effect on her because she suddenly retracted her hand back. My bear whined.

    “No, no it’s,” she sighed, “it's okay. I get that question a lot.” The defeated look on her face made my heart ache.

    She took a deep breath. “My wings have always been like this. Paralyzed since birth. It’s extremely rare but I guess I got lucky.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Flying is such an important thing to the fairies. It’s sacred to us. It hurts when I can’t participate in our traditions. It hurts that they always look at me with that stupid pity of theirs. As if I’m not capable. As if I’m some sort of wilting flower.

    “It’s just hard being…different. Being the odd one out. Always.”

    “I know,” I said quietly. She looked at me in surprise with those beautiful eyes of hers.

    “You do?”

    “Yes.”

    She stared at me with expecting eyes, wanting me to say more. I wanted to. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to show her how much I understood. Why couldn’t I just get the words out? Why couldn’t I just open up?

    Because she would run. She would never want to spend her precious time with a savage like you. 

    My mind was right. She would never look at me the same if I told her why. Why I was cast away. Why I had to live alone all these decades. She would run just like the rest–and for good reason.

    I looked into her expecting eyes and pulled a stray lock of hair behind her pointed ear. A soft hue of pink painted over her face and ears and I smiled. With a hesitating hand, she pressed my hand to cup her cheek, now smiling back at me.

    “Let’s just go to sleep, sweetheart.”

    I could see the disappointment flash in her eyes, but I ignored it. It was best to not get too intimate with her. She wanted answers, but she wasn’t going to get any and she’d just have to deal with that.

    As I closed my eyes, expecting her to leave, I felt a brush of her hand on my jaw, almost caressing it, before it retracted just as quickly. I almost smiled.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@bumblebeesfromvenus

[gingerteafairy]

𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 (𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

"I’d die and kill for you. I just don’t want to see you suffer, ever again.”

tags n warnings: ghost!tate, est. relationship, heavy angst, hurt/comfort(?), depression, suicide attempt, drugging, male validation, oc's, death, toxic relationship, murder, blood, daddy/mommy issues, language. word count: 4.8k. masterlist

You kept your eyes fixed on the clock, as if each second was dragging on purpose, like time itself was mocking your patience during this endless shift. 10:34. The display blinked. Finally, another minute passed, and you sighed, feeling the weight of the moment. 10:35.

It was strange, because normally you’d be staring down at your phone, lost in it, looking for anything to distract you — any distraction, just like the emptiness you knew others could see in you. A deep ego, a soul rotting from the inside out.

You’d made a mistake on the machine an hour ago. A simple mistake, but a crucial one. It hadn’t reset. The supervisor, with that cold stare, had reprimanded you. And deep down, you knew you should apologize, but you didn’t have the courage. Something froze you. The second you opened your mouth, you felt like you’d break. Cry, beg for forgiveness, like that one mistake was the only thing that could shatter what was already fragile inside.

"Hey." Cecília’s voice cut through your thoughts, interrupting the whirlwind in your head. She gestured with her hands, signaling that it was time for a break, time to step away for a bit.

You glanced at the clock again. 10:37. It was well past the usual break time, but who cared? This place, this job, was so flavorless, so lifeless, that if you passed out right there, the most anyone would do was check your blood pressure, or maybe run the machine with their own blood sample.

"Let’s go," you murmured, standing up with little enthusiasm. You followed Cecília to the kitchen, feeling your muscles tense, like your own energy was up for sale and no one was buying.

Once inside the break room, you slumped into a chair, the plastic of the seat almost cracking under the weight of your tired body. Cecília, always quick, began rummaging through her bag. A carrot cake, you noticed, when she held out the container to you — a silent offering, but loaded with unspoken intentions.

Something was off, you could feel it. The way Cecília’s green eyes fixed on you seemed to overflow with something deeper than simple concern. And when you met her gaze, you realized there were traces of last night's argument, the tension still hanging between you two. You hadn’t eaten anything all day, and you were starting to feel lightheaded. Even so, your blood had been taken to help the newer interns. Cecília was pissed. You could feel you were losing a friend, and you feared, rightfully so, that you might lose another — especially one who’d been by your side for so long, since college.

"I brought cake," you said, your voice quiet, as if just mentioning food could ease the tension in the air.

"Nice," Cecília responded, the word falling like a stone as she tried to force a smile, her eyes drifting to the small piece of orange cake with a thin layer of chocolate. You tried to smile back, forcing your eyes to look away from the floor and focus on the simple sweetness of that cake.

"It’s good. Bought a bunch," her voice was flat, like she didn’t have the energy to care about what was happening around her. She took a distracted bite, tasting it without really savoring it, while her eyes wandered back to the break room floor.

"Cecília..." You said louder, your voice sounding strange after the heavy silence that had settled between you. Your body shrank, like your own shame had become physical. You noticed the hallway door was open. A whisper wasn’t enough anymore. "Thanks for yesterday. For saying that... about me messing up and hurting myself. Thanks for caring."

Cecília fell silent, her hands resting at her sides as she let out a long sigh. The tension seemed to grow, as if the unspoken words piled up between you two, heavy and hard to untangle.

"I’m always worried." She remarked, the lump in her throat a warning of the depth of her words, like she was still shouting the same thing she had yesterday. "About my friends..."

"I... I’m not okay..." you finally confessed, what Cecília had suspected from your empty stare and dark circles. "My depression is worse, I feel like nothing makes sense. Nothing can be fixed. I…" 

You stopped, you couldn't tell Cecília that you tried to commit suicide on Saturday and that's why you didn't answer any messages. You wanted to say goodbye with a letter or message when you started taking your insomnia medication, but you stopped you. Wondering if it was all worth it. If you were going to die or it would just be a scare, where you would sleep for a whole day. It wasn't worth it.

"I didn’t know it was like this," Cecília whispered, her eyes fixed on the cake, which now tasted bitter, like earth and ashes. You smiled, but it was a hollow, bitter smile, slow to reach your eyes.

"I can’t talk about it," you answered, clenching your fists like that physical force could stop the tears from coming. "I’m just withering away... without anyone knowing."

"I’m here for you." Cecília’s voice, always so firm, echoed a comfort you knew would be useless. But somehow, it still felt like relief. You had never known how to deal with comforting words, but at that moment, they were a balm.

"Thanks for caring, really," your voice was soft, almost breaking the rigidity you’d been holding onto.

"I’m here for you." She repeated, this time stepping closer. Cecília crouched down, getting on your level, her eyes just inches from yours. "Whatever you need, we’re in this together."

You didn’t quite know what to do with those words, how to fit that kind of support into the mess inside you. But still, you smiled. A tired smile, but genuine. "Thanks," you murmured again.

You decided not to eat. Maybe it was better this way. The juice you’d had an hour and twenty minutes ago, with the supervisor, already felt like enough for your body. It was strange, but something inside you felt more satisfied just by watching Cecília eat, smiling every now and then, as if her happiness had the power to fill the empty spaces within you.

10:50. Time seemed to stick to your skin, like each second was a constant reminder of your decline, an unrelenting countdown since you were fifteen. It was time to get back to work, try not to freak out with the feeling of failure. But when you ran another test, you messed up again. Christian had to redo it for you.

"You’re trouble. Wasting my time," he joked, his laugh slightly forced, while he fiddled with the test tubes. When he noticed the silence, he shrank, embarrassment painting his face. Maybe he wasn’t so good with jokes. "I was just kidding."

"I know." You hurried to respond, trying not to sound too shaken. You watched how Christian did everything with such precision, a skill that seemed to come so naturally to him. How was it that you couldn’t be like that?

"What time is it?" He asked, putting the small glass back in the machine — that same machine you had failed earlier.

"10:55."

"11:10, we’ll be done, okay?"

"Okay."

You gave in, once again, to the temptation of your phone, waiting for the digital reading. The screen lit up, and you opened your private social network, checking if Alexandre had accepted your friend request. You wanted him to respond to your funny post about gastritis. He didn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t. Instead, he had seen the ridiculous post you made about your issues with your dad, with rock music playing in the background, making it even more pathetic. He didn’t comment. Great. Perfect.

Jonathan didn’t respond either, just saw it. It wasn’t unusual, he was used to your depressive and self-deprecating rants. Even though he understood the deeper meaning behind it, he did nothing but leave a like.

Maybe it was too heavy. Gastritis and daddy issues. You laughed at your own choice of topic, but deep down, there was something bitter in that laugh. It was an attempt not to cry over how ridiculous you felt, desperately wishing to get any male attention, any way you could.

Lucy liked it. Maybe that was enough. A small gesture, a comment from your sister about how the song you’d chosen reminded her of herself. That could have been enough, but somehow, you still expected more. You wanted Alexandre to comment, to start a conversation, to care about what you posted. Or maybe Jonathan, with his unpredictable way, would use that information to jump into the conversation, like he always did. Or even Professor Ivanovich, with his harsh and Russian demeanor, might like the post and give it a touch of authenticity. But no. None of that happened.

It was already 11:12, and time seemed to crumble on top of you. You still hadn’t retrieved the machine’s result in time. Desperate, you tried to rush everything, but haste only led to more mistakes. Christian noticed the shadow of disaster before you did, as always, and rushed to fix it. In the end, he had to redo everything himself. You, on the other hand, just withdrew, shoulders slumped, without looking at Cecília. You didn’t know if you should or if you even could. The goodbye was quick, almost impersonal. The exhaustion, the weight of the day, it all seemed to drain through your veins, leaving you empty.

Going home felt like torture. Being in the lab, at least, was easier. In fact, being anywhere else seemed simpler than that suffocating reality. Constant arguments, yelling, cutting words. The house was a battlefield, and you didn’t know where to hide anymore.

Your dad, intense and loaded with cruel words, always made you feel like trash, as if it was impossible to please him. He said the worst things, things that cut deep, and then... then he’d send a message:

"Hey, I don’t want to be on your back. I care about you. Talk to me, I’ll try to understand. I promise."

It was funny, in a bitter way. The coward never said what needed to be said face to face. All that was left was the emptiness, the bitter taste of the fight that still burned in your throat, as you tried to drown it all out with your headphones, the muffled sound blending with the external noise, until everything became an unbearable mix.

When you got home, the door creaked, announcing your arrival. Your mom was there, as always, with a hug. But her touch, which should have been a comfort, felt more like a sickness, like her fingerprints were invisible bacteria, microscopic, spreading across your skin.

"What happened? You look down." She asked, touching your face, and you did your best to smile. But it was a forced smile, masking the deep disgust, the gastric acid churning in your stomach.

I’m so fucking tired of being here. That was the answer echoing inside you, but what came out was a simple, "I’m tired." And with that, you went up the stairs of that creepy house, which reflected, in its dark corners and dusty furniture, everything you felt inside. It was as if the walls were alive, absorbing the despair you carried.

Your room always felt the coldest in the house, and whenever you passed the door, a chill ran up your spine. But then you knew exactly what was waiting for you. Turning inside, you found Tate, smiling at you with that sweet, almost innocent smile, his arms outstretched for a tight hug. He was your secret, the only place you could hide from everything and everyone.

You couldn’t share the happiness with anyone, you couldn’t let the world know, or it could all disappear. He had been seen by your parents, but only on the important occasions when he insisted on showing up and proving himself to be a good man. He didn’t tell them everything, of course. After all, dating a ghost, someone as broken as you, was a dangerous kind of happiness.

It worked, though, since everyone liked Tate, even if he was the embodiment of darkness itself. But still, you knew you couldn’t live without him.

"I missed you," he confessed, pulling back just enough to look at your face, holding it in his calloused hands, which seemed made to comfort and destroy at the same time.

"I couldn’t stand being without you." You smiled, leaning your face into the coldness of his hands, feeling the relief of his presence.

"Good thing we have an eternity together," Tate softened, kissing your forehead with the tenderness of someone who had all the time in the world. "Now that you’re feeling better, I think I can offer you a game. I’ve been waiting for you all day."

Tate was sweet. Everyone liked him. Almost perfect, like a rare phenomenon, a celestial sight that anyone on the street would stop and admire. But you knew that Tate, behind those dark eyes and golden hair, wasn’t what he seemed. There was something much darker inside him. Something you felt, but didn’t have the courage to question. Because deep down, you loved that darkness as much as you loved the light he could still show.

You loved him for his darkness. For the way everything you thought and felt materialized in his actions. He was the nail, and you, the flesh, so fragile, so vulnerable to everything happening in the outside world. But with him, you felt whole. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart.

While you were caught up in the card game, you heard his unmistakable footsteps. With a subtle gesture, you motioned for Tate to hide, and you, without hurry, began to organize the colorful cards, some of them personalized with the drawings Tate had made, trying to look as normal as possible.

“Did you manage to study yesterday?” Your father asked, crossing his arms and standing in the doorway, a critical look that no longer surprised you.

You didn’t look at him. Your eyes were fixed on the little dinosaur drawn by Tate, trying to focus on the cards and not on the tension that was building in the air. “No.”

“Did you study today?” He repeated, with that annoying insistence, as if you were just a reflection of his expectations, a piece of paper that needed to be filled out in the right way.

“No.” The answer was automatic, without desire. You continued shuffling the cards, as if that were the most important thing in the world, but in reality you were just trying to avoid confrontation. You were exhausted from the last fight, the reason for it being trivial: you had fun with your friends and arrived late. “Yesterday I arrived very tired. Today, the same thing happened.”

“You really are unbelievable.” He laughed, shaking his head in disdain, searching the room as if he knew something you didn’t, as if the walls held secrets. “You can’t do something without making mistakes. You have to go back to those worthless friends of yours. It almost seems like you have no purpose. You have everything, but you keep complaining. You don’t have to blame anyone for your misery.”

“Yes, I don’t have to blame anyone.” You replied, exhaustion finally reflecting in your voice. Before, you fought, but now everything seemed like a tiring theater, a scenario that you no longer had the strength to change. You just left everything as it was, too lazy to make any effort.

“I’m glad you know.” He shrugged, his tone arrogant. “You should be like that boyfriend of yours, Tate. I want to see what he thinks of his girlfriend being a slut walking the streets at night.” He hissed, already leaving the room, closing the door with force, making the sound echo through the house. You turned your head quickly, seeing Tate locking the door behind him, as if he wanted to protect you from something invisible.

“You know he doesn’t mean it…” Tate tried to soften, sitting next to you on the mattress. “He’s just… weird. At least he takes care of you. My father would leave the house and let my mother beat me saying she’d have aborted me when she had the chance.” He spoke with a sigh, as if this was his reality, something so far from yours, but that somehow connected with the pain.

“Great care. They give me a place to stay and food. Quality service.” You scoffed, your voice sour, your eyes rolling, irritation rising to the surface.

Tate grimaced, pressing his lips together and sighing, before touching your hair, with a gentle gesture, trying to calm you down. “Hey, don’t be like that. Forget it…” He whispered, getting closer and kissing your cheek, as if that gesture would be able to dissipate the pain. “You’re not getting in the way of anything and you’re not an idiot... you’re perfect for me, you know that.”

“But I’ll never be perfect for them, Tate.” You murmured, letting the weight of the words fall on you. You lay down, trying to close your eyes, but the tears began to roll, silent and constant. He understood. It was your moment to be alone. Tate disappeared completely into the coldness of the room, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

Another day began, and with it, the same endless cycle: work, college, fights. But this time, something had broken for good. The screams were louder, more threatening, and you had the feeling that, for a moment, he might actually hit you. Your mother didn’t say anything, she was as distant as ever, and your sister just stepped back, as if nothing had happened, as if it was nothing more than another episode that would vanish into thin air, without a trace.

It was just another family fight, the kind that made you lock yourself in your room, burying yourself under the covers, wishing you could be transported to another dimension—anywhere but here. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the screams still pierced through the walls, each sharp word making you cringe. Your chest tightened, your breath coming in quick gasps. You needed something—someone—to hold on to.

And as if he could hear your thoughts, Tate’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his warmth as your tears soaked into the pillow.

“I’m getting out of here,” you mumbled, your nails digging into his arm as your body curled into itself. “I swear to God, I’m leaving this fucking house and never coming back to this shithole again.”

“Shhh, I’m here. Shhh,” he mumbled into your hair, holding you tighter, his other hand making slow, gentle strokes across your scalp. “I’m getting you out of here. It’s going to be okay, okay? You know that. I’m working on it. You’re not who they say you are. They don’t deserve you.”

“Nobody deserves to be stuck with someone like me,” you choked out between sobs. “Nobody, Tate. Nobody. I’m nothing—I’m insufferable. I’m fucked up, I’m everything they say I am!”

“Hey, stop.” His voice cut through the air, firm but calm. Before you could react, he moved, hovering over you, his eyes burning into yours. “Don’t ever say that again. Don’t believe that shit.” His voice was low, intense, like a storm about to explode. “Don’t ever say that. It’s not fair—to you or to me!”

You choked back another sob, your eyes locked on his. He looked on the verge of breaking too, his lips pressed tightly together, his jaw clenched as if he were holding back a scream. His throat worked, swallowing emotions too big to contain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice so low it barely reached your own ears, scraping against your throat like glass. “I’m sorry for being like this, Tate. For doing this to you.”

He shook his head instantly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss against your lips, the taste of salt mingling between you. When he pulled away, he sniffed, running his thumb over your damp cheek.

“You’re nothing like that,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, then your temple, then your cheeks, as if he could kiss the sadness out of you. “You matter to me. You’re everything to me. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you tried again.

“Stop fucking apologizing,” he murmured, his face twisting with something that resembled pain.

“I’ve been apologizing for things that aren’t even my fault for so long,” you admitted, closing your swollen eyes as fresh tears fell. “I don’t even know how to stop.”

“Well, don’t do this to me,” he said, squeezing your hands tighter, lacing his fingers with yours. “Don’t do this to anyone. You don’t owe anyone an apology for simply being you.”

“I’m afraid of losing everything, Tate.”

“You won’t lose everything,” he said firmly, his grip tightening as if he were making a promise with more than words. “You’ll always have me. It may not be much, but I promise—you’ll have me.”

“This means everything to me.” Your lips trembled, forming the faintest smile, almost invisible, but Tate caught it.

“You should stop crying,” he teased softly, brushing his nose against yours.

“I’m trying,” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

“Forget about them,” he whispered, shifting to wrap himself completely around you, like a human shield. “Those days? They’re not coming back. Stay with me, lean on me. For anything, everything. Always and forever.”

“I’m afraid to depend on you.”

“It’s hard,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your neck before pulling away enough to look you in the eyes. “But no amount of softness will change the fact that you’re strong. A hammer doesn’t turn into a nail.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, small but real. Tate’s face lit up like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“You’re so damn beautiful when you smile, my sunshine,” he murmured, his voice thick with something tender, something that made your chest ache in a way that wasn’t painful. He traced his fingers along your jaw, as if trying to memorize you. “And I swear, I’ll do anything to see that smile every day. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take you with me. I’ll be your peace.”

That night, you slept with an overwhelming serenity, an unexpected peace that seemed to wrap your body in a comforting embrace, but something woke you in the middle of the night. An agonizing, desperate scream tore through the silence of the house, followed by the muffled, dry sound of a gunshot.

The scream was your mother’s. Your stomach churned, and a cold sensation ran down your spine. You jumped out of bed, your feet slamming against the floor in an uncontrolled rush, nearly tripping over your own legs as you ran down the stairs. Each heavy step echoed in your mind, but it was the scene in the kitchen that made your body stop, as if time had slowed down.

Your mother was on the floor, covered in blood, her face pale and lifeless, her glassy eyes fixed on an eternal void. Beside her, your father was lying, the pistol lying next to his limp hand. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixed with the blood that stained the kitchen floor. Your heart raced, your legs shaking beneath you as terror took over your body.

You staggered backwards, almost breathless, until your eyes met Tate's, who was standing in the corner of the room. He was smiling. But it wasn't a smile of relief or empathy. It was a smile between tears, a tortured and manic smile that made your stomach turn even more.

“Tate…” you sobbed, your voice shaking, your hands cold, your fingers barely able to move. Fear seeped into your bones, making every movement harder to make. You were shaking so hard that you felt your legs buckle under the weight of the scene before you. 

Your eyes roamed over Tate’s body, settling on the green sweater you loved so much, now stained with fresh warm blood. It was your mother’s blood. It was your own family’s blood. The shock was so intense that you could do nothing but take a step back, your body now pressed against the wall as if it were your only lifeline.

“You… What did you do?” Your voice came out as a broken whisper, each word leaving your mouth as if it were being ripped out by force, the terror visible in your wide eyes. Panic was taking over you, and a wave of nausea rose in your throat, but you couldn’t look away from Tate, even though you knew it was the gaze of a monster disguised as an angel.

He smiled, his eyes watering as he approached you, his steps slow, as if he were savoring every movement. “I told you I would help you,” he said, the words coming out with a smile that bordered on madness. Blood still stained his fingers, and you could see the tears rolling down his face, but they weren’t tears of regret. They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of twisted happiness. “I told you I’d give you the peace you so desperately need, baby.”

Those words. They echoed inside your head like a death sentence. “Peace” wasn’t what you felt. What you felt was dread. Dread of the person who had once made you feel safe, but who now seemed like a living nightmare. The sweater he wore, the touch of your hair—everything was a reminder of what he had become. You stared at him, eyes wide, breathing fast, trying desperately to get away from his presence, but the weight of what was happening paralyzed you. The blood was fresh, still dripping from your body as if it had been extracted from your family’s very life.

Noticing the terror in your eyes, Tate paused for a moment, his arms opening wide, as if it were his only way to offer you comfort. As if it was the only thing he could do to calm you.

“I said I’d be your peace, I promised,” he murmured, the tears now falling more heavily, but the smile remained. He seemed to be in ecstasy, as if he were carrying out a divine plan, something greater than the two of you. His smile was as grotesque as it was beautiful, a mix of twisted love and madness. “I always said I would do anything for you, and I always do what I promise.”

Terror took over every cell in your body, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I didn’t ask for any of this… I didn’t fucking ask you to do this…” The words came out slurred, almost like a cry for help, but Tate didn’t seem to understand.

"What? What... do you mean?" He stuttered, tearing apart. He stepped even closer, each step heavy and determined.

"TATE YOU FUCKING KILLED MY PARENTS."

“YOU CALLED FOR FUCKING HELP, DAMMIT!” he shouted, the fury and pain in his voice.

His voice made the walls of the house seem to vibrate. Anger and despair intertwined in his voice, as he calmed himself, running a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt to control himself.

“I’m sorry, darl’… I… ’m so fucking sorry for yelling at you. I promise, everything will be okay. I just wanted to help you…wanted to get you out of all this fucking bullshit. I’d do anything, I’d die and kill for you. I just don’t want to see you suffer, ever again.” It was a mantra, a manic justification that you didn’t know if you could believe anymore. 

Fear still tighten your chest, but something inside you begins to give in. Tate’s words were starting to make sense in a distorted way. The small possibility that you had ignored was now expanding, growing like a poisonous plant. He was right, wasn’t he? He had always been right. He loved you. He would protect you. You should trust him. Her breathing calmed, and her shoulders relaxed, as the horror of what was happening seemed to dissolve beneath the weight of his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, and you had no strength to resist. Deep down, you knew that you were now hopelessly trapped, but something inside you, a sick part of you, did not want to be saved. Over Tate’s shoulder, you saw your parents lying in the kitchen, their bodies inert, your father immobilized by the fallen pistol, your mother in eternal silence. Your sister was not there. There was no more screaming, no more mocking. There was no one left to hurt you. There was nothing left but Tate and you, and he was whispering to you:

“You’re my life,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck, his touch warm and possessive. “And you will depend on me. Now and forever. There’s no one else but the two of us, my dear. Not anymore.”

Those words sounded like a condemnation and a promise, at the same time. And you knew, without a doubt, that you were lost. Forever.

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: It has been a super long time since I've posted, like a year or more. I'm going to try to post weekly, but it depends on my schedule. As for a tag list, I'll be starting a new one – please send me a message to be added to the tag list. I don't always get to look through comments, so please message me.

Note Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It turned out, in Angus's mind, the dog turned out to be a good distraction for you. It kept you from running around because you found yourself always training the dog. She was an angelic thing, who always got into some kind of trouble along the way. Your whole life you've been much of a rule follower, but as of recently you were finding you had a lot in common with the dog.

With this being said, you have yet to find a name you'd like for her. Often you found yourself filling the boredom by naming old fictional characters you loved when you remember the character Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Outside from being incredibly charming, he was intelligent, kind, and had patience and devotion for the ones he loved. You imagined you had a lot in common with Anne Shirley or you hope you did. And with that thought, you named the dog Blythe.

Jamie enjoyed watching you work with the mischievous creature. He could tell this was the first time you were filled with joy since you arrived in Scotland, "Why don't you go over and talk to the girl," Murtagh said from next to him.

He shook out of his daze, acting like he wasn't doing anything weird, "I like my bullocks, thank you."

Murtagh shook his head, "She wouldn't have that mutt if it wasn't for you, you know."

The men continue to work around and pack things away, "You and I both know she is a stubborn woman, if she wanted that dog enough she would have got it without myself or Ned mentioning a word."

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

You were working on the pups reactivity and word commands. While growing up you didn't get to have a pet, but your mother told you about when she raised dogs as a child. Your family moved around a lot, so having a pet wasn't in the cards. "Don't get too comfortable girl, we're going to be off soon," Angus barked at you from afar.

You turned around losing the smile on your face. With the time being away from the castle, you still hadn't earned much trust and you most definitely didn't give the men much energy. Outside of the pup, you were like a empty soul and it was coming to be more evident with every passing day. The dog plopped herself next to you watching Angus with her tongue out. Even Blythe was better respected and well liked by the men, even Angus though he'd deny it if anyone commented. Their acceptance of the dog made you more tolerant to their attitude and patriarchal manner. "Yes master," you bow.

"It's nice you are starting to learn your manners," he smirked back while making gestures towards the men.

With a deep inhale and low tolerance of attitude today you started to trudge towards your horse, "It was sarcasm, idiot," you grumbled.

He appeared to have the same tolerance of my attitude, "Watch your tongue girl or you'll get it cut off," Angus advanced forward while gripping his dagger.

Jamie and Murtagh were about to make a move when another man's voice appeared, "Everything alright miss," a British voice caught your attention.

Angus directed an aggressive response to the man. You turned to look at the man and in your daze started to register things about this man. He had a proper accent, boots, and his hair read a gentleman. He was clearly a British soldier and he could mean serious trouble. You turned to look at Jamie for a split second before charming a smile, "Excuse me sir," you asked, ignoring the comments from the other man to rile this man. This was not the time and place.

You could tell the tension with Dougal increased. He didn't trust what you would say, "I was asking if you were alright," he stepped forward again, ignoring the men behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to hear all that, sir. You shouldn't have had to hear a lady speak out of tune like that. It was very unbecoming of me," you looked embarrassed. Let's hope your acting skills are up to par. You ignored Murtagh mutter unbecoming to make fun of you, "It's just Angus here is a very, very, very," you paused to look at him, "Very distant cousin." You turn back to smile at the officer, "I sometimes gets so overwhelmed by his voice and tone I just lash out. I apologize," you put you hand on your heart. The dog looked up at you oddly, not recognizing your behaviors.

He smiled at you, not acknowledging the grumbling Scots behind you, "Not necessary, my lady I understand quite well actually." He bent down to scratch the puppy sitting in front of you, "I'm sorry your accent."

You scratch the back of you neck, "Right, I must sound so improper. I'm Y/N O'Mulligian. I came to visit some family here from the colonies at my brother's request. He said I could use some real life hard work. He likes to call me a debutante," you sent him a teasing smile.

Responding well to your story, he rises and smiles at you. A relief was lifted off your shoulders, you were almost past this moment when Dougal interrupted, "Enough," he shouted, "She is the guest of the clan MacKenzie and her business is none of yours." You clearly spoke too soon because the officers defenses shot back up.

"So off you go," Angus finished.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "Are you sure you are alright, miss," he looked unshaking at you. He clearly felt so much privilege he did not care remotely about the strapping Scottish men standing around him. You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead how stupid these men had to be to not recognize the importance of this one man.

Dougal looked as if he was going to fight the man. You put your arm on his bicep to stop him, "Of course, good sir," you smile, "It's nice to know chivalry is not dead. I have more hard work to learn as you can see, it was very nice meeting you."

"Pleasure is all mine," he smiled back before frowning around the man watching this moment. He backed away into the blacksmith area to continue his work.

A minute passed by and you felt a firm grip on your arm drag you towards your horse, "It's best you didn't speak," Dougal scolded in your ear.

Anger surged through your body and it took every fiber of your being to say nothing. But as you were shoved onto your horse, you looked in the direction of the soldier and back at Jamie. You knew if you yelled it'd bring attention to Jamie, a fugitive to the English Army.

You continue to seethe on the ride. Blythe sat up, doing her best to see over the horses head to look ahead. "What's the dog's name," Jamie trotted next to you.

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

"What a cute English name," he emphasized on one word of his sentence.

You pulled back on your horse and halted, "Excuse me?"

He chose to stop with you, trying to not say directly what he'd like to say. It's been odd between you and Jamie. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away out of anger or fear, but none the less at this moment it appeared to be anger, "Nothing, it's a cute name."

A sarcastic laugh left your mouth, "No, no, you had a tone," the man halt to watch another scene unfold, "You clearly have something you want to add, some hidden message you feel you want to hide. Say it."

"Nothing, you seem to just like the English a bit more than an Irish Woman from the colonies I thought would," he said like his words meant nothing. It didn't matter the fact that maybe he felt jealous or he had a right to comment on any intention or likes you have. That comment engulfed your whole body into volcano, hell fire fiery.

Heat was written all over your face and Murtagh didn't have enough time cool down your fire with rationality, "The boy is just saying, you were awfully chummy with the Brit," Angus chimed in, "like a girl in heat."

And there goes Mt. St. Helen, "Un-Fucking believable, do you know how fucking dumb you are, like every single on of you are just egg head fucking dumb," you scream enough to make the echo quake the woods around you.

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

Tears started to brim your eyes and Jamie knew he'd set you up to fail again. You point to Ned, clearly a man of reason, "That man back there," you continued to yell, "Was an English Officer out patrolling." You looked to Jamie and everything deflated in you. Everything from the past and the reality of your new world just collapsed in your soul, "I was trying to save you."

A sigh leaves your lips and you talk lightly while using your hands to emphasize your point, "Men are idiots and will always fall for charm, so I used mine to protect you all," you continued to go on, "Call me a hussy, I don't care. And that plan to charm the officer actually worked until you opened your trap, my lord," you bowed your head at Dougal. Something than broke in you, in that moment, you were exhausted at being angry. You had no more fight in you. You gave Jamie another look, "I was scared. I was trying to save you," you whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you dismounted from you horse, "Now where are you going," Angus shouted at you.

The anger stirred up again, spinning around to look at him, "To relieve myself, thank you," you speak loudly while stomping into the woods.

You knew what Dougal did to Jamie in the pubs and you weren't sure why. It wasn't much of your business, but you could see it chipping into Jamie. You were stuck again in your thoughts, give into this new world and let these people in or continue to bury who you knew you were inside a dark cave and never leave.

The ride to the next village was quiet, especially after finding Scottish men hung out on display. You wanted to vomit at the lack of humanity in the cruel act. If this was the normal the British did to Scots, I'm not all shocked of their lack of kindness and trust towards me. I'm sure I wasn't helping the matter either.

When you got to the pub, you chose to join in with the drinking. The owner made a bee line as Blythe trotted behind you and laid at your feet, "Lass, we do not let do-," he stopped mid sentence from the look you were giving him. You were sitting up straight, dead face.

"You were saying, sir," you answered curtly.

"What can I get for you miss," he finished instead.

"A pint of whatever, I am not picky," you said, resting your feet on the chair in front of you.

The men went a distance away from you, you imagine to process the thing they just witnessed. A man approached you with a smile on your face and you shake your head putting your other foot on a chair and shoving it away from your table. He quickly turn around, "You'd make more friends if you weren't so prickly."

Murtagh patted at the dog, "My expression and acts are nothing but kind, sir." He shook his head, "Plus, I don't need any more friends when I only need you."

He chuckles, looking at Jamie, "It was a kind thing you did with the soldier. I'll be the only one to admit, that was a good eye you have."

"Don't think much of it, it was also self preservation because I'm not a exactly the kind British soldiers have a keen sense to protect," the man brought you your pint and you started to drink while you viewed in your surroundings.

He pointed at you, "You like everyone to think you're this cold hearted she witch."

"Maybe I am those things," you said like it didn't bother me to have that reputation.

Murtagh shook his head, "You are quite the opposite lass and the only person you are hurting are you." You roll your eyes sighing as he looks at your with a smirk, "And maybe a red headed boy who I suspect would do anything to see you smile once again." You sit up straighter as Murtagh stands while looking at you, while gesturing to Jamie. He lifts his eyebrows speaking you the truth, "Don't think I only talk to you because your good company. I get sick of seeing the boy mope around with his worry for you. A single smile from you can set his day."

You glare at him as your cheeks warm red, "Mind your business."

When he walks away, you sit and continue to process your reality and options. Every now and again you catch a glance at Jamie. You could see his expression and the change in him over the last few weeks. You stand walking your glass over to the bar with Blythe walking behind you. You could tell Dougal was about to start his speech. He wouldn't need Jamie today if you guessed right. Those hanging men were part of this community they didn't need to see Jamie's scars. You leaned against a pillar near Jamie, "You alright," you asked him catching eyes with Murtagh.

You shake off his knowing look. Jamie stood up straight looking at you bewildered from the sudden change in your demeanor, "Are you talking to me?"

"Don't make it a thing, just answer the question," you whisper.

"Aye, I'm fine," he whispers back, glancing at you for a second too long into silence. He clears his thoughts, "If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind with speaking to me?"

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

He shook his head, "Sure," he was trying to hold back a smile. Something appeared to pop up in his head, "Look Deoiridh, I'm sorry about."

"No," you stopped him, "Jamie, I'm stubborn and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not from a place like this, so."

You noticed a change in his eyes when you said his name instead of Mr. MacTavish. This is where he stopped you, "I only want to help."

"Does that mean you agree I'm stubborn because Murtagh implied I was prickly earlier and that's why I don't make friends," you say while trying to hold back a grin.

He shook his head making his red hair shake with it, “You see comments like that are a trap and I will not be stepping on that one.”

“Smart man,” you say to him.

“And now a compliment, I might think you are wanting to be my friend again,” he whispered back with a smirk.

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn’t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

“And Jamie, just for transparency sake, the jury is still out if we are friends,” he paused appearing to hold his breath. You offer a small smile, “I need you to walk over to Murtagh and tell him I was nice then I'll consider being your friend. You know for the sake of proving Murtagh wrong. It's the price you have to pay for my friendship.” And before he can respond, you and Blythe make your way upstairs.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 8

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series masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!poc!reader

summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni, some mentions of gore, guilt, trauma (who is surprised. please), angst, a shower scene but it's really unsexy except for anakin on his knees series will have eventual smut, canon level violence, etc etc.

a/n: tagging makes me feel a type of violence that is historic in nature. not beta read. any comments and reblogs and all are so so appreciated thank u so much for reading

You never realized how intertwined grief and guilt are before now. Anakin allows you to pretend that you’ve fallen asleep as he hoists you into the speeder with Obi-Wan, stroking your feverish forehead with his cool metal hand. He’s draped you in his cloak, hiding the blood on your clothes. If Obi-Wan knew you were awake, he’d ask you questions, questions that you wouldn’t have the strength to answer. Anakin lays you down gently with your head on his lap, a comfort you don’t think you deserve. 

You keep remembering the spray of blood on your face, its metallic, coppery scent staining you forever; you did that. You took away her life, forever, without hesitation, without stopping. While it felt like a blur in the moment, it feels crystal clear now: the sight of your hands, tangled in the roots of Reyna’s hair, blood muddying the sand as dark rivulets formed from the pool of blood forming from Reyna. And that lifeless look in her eyes, the one she had before you had actually managed to kill her… she wasn’t afraid. She knew you were going to kill her. She knew she was dead before her heart managed to stop beating. 

The thought of that alone terrifies you. So you cling tighter to Anakin’s thigh, a shiver running through your body as you try to hide from your guilty conscience. He says nothing, just holds you tighter; you imagine he’s doing the work of shielding both yours and his emotions from Obi-Wan. You feel guilty that you can’t even muster the energy to care. Reyna’s face haunts you in the dark space of your eyelids every time you blink. There is nowhere to hide from her, from your guilt. 

Anakin can feel your turmoil. He strokes the top of your head, hand shaking as he tries to hide his own sins. How many bodies has he buried, now? If he hadn’t been talking with Obi-Wan, distracted by the thought of you instead of living in reality, would he have been able to protect you from Reyna? That, too, scares him. When did death become his shadow? 

“It has been a long time since you last meditated, young Anakin,” Obi-Wan comments quietly, just barely audible over the hum of the machinery. Anakin wonders if Obi-Wan can see the movement of his hands, the way that he’s seeking comfort in you. He hates that Obi-Wan is right about this whole thing. This is attachment. He’d do—did— dark things for you. But if it’s so dark to keep you safe, to protect you, how can the darkness be all that bad? It’s tearing him apart. All he knows now, all that makes sense to him now, is keeping you safe. Whether it’s for himself or the galaxy is a question Anakin does not have an answer to. 

“How can you tell, Master?” Anakin asks. You’re restless on his thigh and, worried you’ll give yourself away to Obi-Wan, he quickly brings his hand over your face, willing the Force to send you into a dreamless sleep. Some peace for you, he hopes. Obi-Wan does not answer his question immediately, only giving him that knowing smile that drives him absolutely mad sometimes. 

“You forget, Anakin, that I know you just as well as I know myself. Even if you have hidden your Force Signature from the world for the protection of the Queen, you cannot hide your emotions from me. They are written plainly on your face,” Obi-Wan responds finally, placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. He knows it’s meant to guide him, comfort him, but it just feels… oppressive now. All Anakin can think about is getting you to somewhere that no one can hurt you, where you won’t have to put yourself through what you did ever again. His selfishness tears through him, cuts into pieces his resolve and wish to be a good Jedi. “Anakin, I… I worry for you. In this lonely palace, with only the Queen to keep you company. The Force will never abandon you, Anakin, but you must take care not to abandon it. There is light within you, light that you must foster and protect.” 

“And what happens to that light if I’ve done something horrible, Master?” Anakin asks quietly, trying desperately to find that light within him. Maybe it was snuffed out long ago. Obi-Wan seems stunned by his question, but Anakin’s question remained. Everything that happened today has brought his past to the forefront of his mind. The Sand People, his obsession over Padme… maybe there never was any light in him. 

“It is never too late to turn back to the Light, Anakin.” Obi-Wan doesn’t press further. For his own sake or for Anakin’s, Anakin doesn’t know, but the guidance soothes him anyways. He’s tired. The cold of Tattooine’s desert at night has caught up to him, so many years later, sinking into his skin, threading through his tissues until his heart pumps sluggishly. 

“You and the Queen look unwell,” Obi-Wan observes. “Perhaps the both of you can get some rest, and I’ll talk to Padme to get a lead on which Ministers we can use.” 

“Padme’s here?” Anakin asks. He’s acutely aware of the unchanging pace of his heart, the steadiness of his breath and he realizes that his love for her has faded. All that remains is a genuine, pure fondness for her. It only makes him feel more hollowed. “Give her my regards, will you, Master?” Obi-Wan nods wordlessly as the speeder reaches the service entrance of the palace. Anakin rouses you quickly, the short window of time serving as cover for your silent departure.

Your bleary eyes take in the palace groggily, the beautiful stone walls seeming more and more like a prison as your knees buckle. Before you can fall, Anakin lifts you into his arms, hooking one arm under your knees and the other across your back. You feel safe in his arms, a temporary comfort as he sneaks the both of you back to your chambers. 

By some sheer luck, you reach the room completely undetected. Anakin sets you down and ushers you to the shower. Anakin had done his best to wipe the blood off of you, but it stains you still. The sight of it confronts you as you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, rings of blood and tired eyes staring back at you. Anakin, noticing the unforgiving scrutiny of yourself, turns you away from the mirror and begins to ease the clothes off your stiff form. He’s hesitant but there’s no choice— you aren’t in the state of mind to be able to take care of yourself, and the longer you stay like this, with the dirt of your crime still smeared on your body, the worse you get. 

“Do you think I’m a monster?” You ask him softly as he undoes the last piece of clothing, leaving you bare to him. The physical vulnerability does not cross your mind as he guides you into the steam of the shower, studying you for a moment before he realizes you shouldn’t be alone. Privacy is not a luxury you can afford right now. He washes his hands, still caked in blood and sand, and joins you in the shower. 

“No, my queen. I think you were forced to make choices that no one should have to make. I think you’ve done your best to keep your conscience,” Anakin responds. He washes his hands and brings them to your face, wiping the blood and dirt from your cheeks with his thumbs. Your eyes flutter shut from his gentle touch, overwhelmed by the intimacy of his care. He moves slowly to your shoulders and neck, easing away the tension in your muscles with each knead of his hand. Your eyes look downwards, to the foamy stream of red dripping off of your body, but Anakin catches the movements and directs your gaze back to his eyes. The spray of the water soaks his clothes, making it cling to his skin as he gently cleans your face. “Hey,” He says quietly. “Forget about that. Just look at me, okay?” You nod, and he quietly washes any blood from your arms. He does it delicately, keeping his eyes fixed on yours even as water drips from his eyelashes onto his cheeks. The shower stream drenches him, making his hair plaster to his forehead, but he doesn’t look away, even as he works down your body, getting to your legs. He’s respectful about it, doesn’t break his gaze away from your face as he kneels at your feet. And from your feet, looking up at you under the harsh bright light of the shower, he thinks that you look like a terrible goddess—powerful, so powerful, burdened with a task that will forever remain thankless. You are a remorseful goddess, the deity of those who never got to keep their humanity. Beyond the hollow sheen of your eyes, he sees it all; the guilt, the sadness, the knowledge that you’ve done something that will stain your soul forever. He cannot look away, captivated by you and the sheer energy you hold. To Anakin, this is right; this subservience to you, bowing at your feet because there is some part of your spirit that demands respect. 

But even goddesses stumble. The distant look in your eyes makes him stand without second thought, holding you up before you crumble into his chest. You shed no tears, merely closing your eyes as Anakin holds you to his body, surrounding you in warmth with the help of the warm water. The warmth of being next to you, the privilege of holding him warms him even as the soaked cloth clinging to his skin chills his bones. He hesitates before he slowly puts his chin on your head, holding you tightly as you breathe shallowly. 

“Remorse is a luxury few can afford,” you mumble into his clothes. Anakin knows you’re right, but Maker, if you don’t deserve that luxury, no one does. Your breathing slows and deepens as you regulate your emotions and distance yourself from it all. 

You are a monster. It couldn’t be clearer to you. Anakin’s handling of you as though you are made of glass only shows his revulsion. He must have held you out of fear, out of responsibility, but it’s a kindness you do not deserve. Is the value of a life worth so little to you? It wasn’t a clean death. It was messy, vengeful, and there was no walking back from this guilt. You killed someone. You’re no better than the woman you killed. 

And then you look into Anakin’s eyes. Eyes like the oceans, like the horizon of a clear blue sky. Eyes filled with compassion, softness, and you realize that you don’t regret your bloodshed. You’d do it again to protect him. To protect his goodness, and the goodness just like his, you’ll take the sins of the world as your own. You’ll become something awful, metamorphosize into something unrecognizable to those who loved you, but it’ll be worth it. Deep down, you’ve always known your fate was something like this; you are a lamb, raised for slaughter. You’ve been staring at the knife that will bring your death for so long. It only makes sense; the death of the Queen of Naboo would only serve the final blow to the people of Naboo. They’d be left defenseless, with no protection against the Separatists, who’d tear the planet apart. You’ll die at their hands or someone else’s, you’re certain. But here, you feel as though your death will mean something. To protect Anakin, to protect Padme, and all the others that you’ve loved in the small moments of kindness that you’ve borrowed from them. You’ll kill, again and again, and be killed, for their sakes. 

“I must see Padme and Obi-Wan,” You say, pulling away from Anakin’s embrace. Your movements are swift, methodical as you get dressed. You’ll act as though nothing happened. You’re a monster, you might as well act the part. You don’t want to see the expression on Anakin’s face as he watches you return to normalcy. You’ll protect him from your guilt, too. “Don’t stay in your wet clothes for too long, you’ll fall sick,” You add. You don’t deserve to care for him, but you care anyway. He’s silent for a beat before he responds. 

“Their meeting is secret. You’ll find them in the hidden passageways of the palace, known only to the Queens. Obi-Wan was led there, but I’m sure you know where to go,” Anakin states. He sounds tired, but you don’t have time to dwell on that. You bid a quick farewell, and head to find Padme.  

~~~

“Padme’s told me that the Political and Economic Advisor Horace Vansil is trustworthy,” Obi-Wan informs you as you join the duo in the shadows of the secret passageway. The lit beacons flicker some distance away from you, casting shadow on to your figure. You’re grateful for it. Padme can read you like a book, so you can only hope that the lowlight will obscure the numbness upon your face. 

“We’ll task him with increasing the import of grain and long-term food sources, then,” You conclude. There’s levels to your response, but you need to be prepared. And to be prepared, you need to be detached. Cool. Collected. 

You blink, and Reyna’s face, bloodied and bloated from death smiles at you in the darkness. She’s laughing, lips pulled into a grotesque, mocking smile. She’ll get away with it, she’s telling you. Listen, she says. Listen to me. You’ll fail. You’ll fail them all. We’ll kill you last, so you’ll have to watch them die before you. You shudder involuntarily. 

“...Milady?” Obi-Wan asks, snapping you out of your nightmarish trance.

“Apologies,” You say, blinking rapidly to refocus. Obi-Wan’s scrutiny is unforgiving, but you pay it no mind. “Yes. We’ll do it,” You respond absently. Padme also looks oddly at you, but says nothing on the subject. 

“There’s one more thing,” She adds. “Something is off about Chancellor Palpatine. I can’t place it but he seems more antsy these days. Getting much more involved in the business of not only Naboo, but nearly every planet and system that has any power in the Republic. It’s… odd, to say the least.” “Speaking of the Republic,” You respond, recalling the interaction you had with Darth Sidious, “there’s something odd that Darth Sidious said to me. He said our forces will be too occupied to help Naboo. I believe that like with the government of Naboo, there’s someone with great power in the Senate who is more than they seem.” Padme nods. “I’ve gotten the same feeling. Things are changing, and I don’t think we have much time left.”

“We’ll give them what they want, then,” You sigh. “If I can arrange a visit to Coruscant, I’ll be in a vulnerable-enough position for them to want to make a move. If we can draw out the mole, we can act.” 

“Padme, your suspicions of Chancellor Palpatine… will Anakin’s friendship with him jeopardize this in any way?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“On the contrary,” You smile bitterly. “I think it could be of great help.”

“It’s settled, then,” Obi-Wan sighs. “You’ll have to come back to Coruscant.”

[1000roughdrafts]

Fic request!: Dean and Reader have been engaged for a long time and are waiting for the perfect time to finally get married. On what should have been an easy hunt with the brothers and Cas, reader is mortally wounded and in their last moments together, Cas marries them (I mean, angels should have that authority right? lol) as Reader dies in Dean's arms?

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: slight violence, dying!reader, blood, slight gore, angst

Dean X FemReader

We round the corner of an abandoned building, and not even this fierce wind could break the dark, thick fog of tension that sits among the three of us. Neither I nor the Winchesters have a clue what we're up against, or if they do, they haven't filled me in. I just know it's demonic and killing innocent people.

We haven't exactly been getting along lately, and if not for the danger that constantly looms around us, I'd have made a joke to Dean about acting like a married couple before we could even tie the knot. But the worst part about the frustration that we feel is the impulsivity that comes with it. The pissing contest of heading into hunts we know we're not prepared for, but are too damn prideful to say so. And somehow the anger leads us to believe we're stronger than we actually are.

I want to convince them to turn around and leave, but I realize that it's too late when Dean kicks down the door, his gun aiming every which way before his foot could even land back on the ground. Leaves rustle under Sam's quick steps as he follows behind Dean like a dutiful soldier. I'm told to stay close, but I'm immediately distracted by the smell of something rotting and the graffiti on the wilting walls. There are words like 'kill', 'die' and 'run' written in red and the hair on the back of my neck stands.

“Y/N!" Dean quietly shouts.

I jolt to look in his direction. He motions with furrowed brows and two fingers for me to move in, and I reflexively roll my eyes. I realize I'd been absentmindedly twisting my engagement ring around my finger.

We shouldn't be here. I know it, so why don't they? Or do they and they just don't care? I stare at Sam internally begging him to turn my way, for him to see the fear in my eyes and help me convince Dean that we should leave, tell him that something just doesn't feel right, but when he does look my way he only shoots a sympathetic smile. I roll my eyes again.

Anxiety clouds me. My chest feels tight, and air feels thin. My vision gets blurry, and I can feel the anger inside of me trying to claw it's way to the top, but all the while I can feel myself weaken, my guard down. I carry on, walking towards where the brothers are and I can smell my threat before I see it. Sulfur. I quickly turn to attack, but feel a piercingly sharp pain in my side.

With a yelp, I instinctively place my hand over the area that burns to hold pressure on it, but it scares me how wet my hand feels, and when I pull my it up I can see that it's drenched in blood.

I manage to croak out Dean's name before I fall to my knees, collapsing on the ground. The last thing I see before my world goes black is Dean kneeling down next to me, repeatedly and terrifyingly shouting my name as Sam fights off whatever it was that attacked me.

Laughter echoed in the halls of the bunker as Dean chased after me. We ended the game in our room, and trapped between Dean and the wall I had no choice but to succumb to him. Roping me in his arms, he tickled me until I begged through tears and a smile to be let go.

When I could catch my breath, my eyes met his gaze, and the whole world stopped around me. I took a few steps back to drop onto the bed, watching Dean as he plopped down next to me. I felt warmth throughout my entire body as he leaned to kiss me.

I could just explode I was so overwhelmed with love for him and for this moment, that when he pulled away I couldn't control my voice. "Marry me, Winchester." And my eyes widened when he quickly sat up.

He propped himself up on his arm, "what?" he said with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm serious, Dean," I chuckled, sitting up to turn my body towards him. I placed my hand on his leg, feeling him relax under it, "I have never felt the way that I do about you, for anyone. We have no idea when our last days are going to be, and in this line of work it could be tomorrow for all we know. I can't bear the thought of dying without you as my husband."

---

I hear my name in Dean's voice from a distance, but I'm surrounded by total darkness. I try so hard with all of my might to tell him I'm here, that it's okay, but the words don't come. It takes all of my strength to open my eyes, but they burn. Everything burns. I don't even try to suppress the scream that bellows out of me.

Taking as deep of a breath as I can, I'm scared for myself when it sounds and feels like I'm breathing a water and air mixture. "What's happening?" I manage to say, but Dean puts a finger to my lips.

"No, no," he soothes, "no, don't talk. It's okay," he says so gently, and as he maneuvers me into his lap I cry out in agonizing pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, then his voice switches into a shaky, fear filled command at Sam to call 911 followed by a yell for Castiel that hurts my heart almost as much as my wound hurts.

I feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness, but I'm brought back every time by Dean shaking my body in his arms, "hey, no! Stay with me, Y/N!" I feel his arms twitch around me, and I know he's frantically trying to figure out his next move. "Hey, stay with me," he pleads.

"Maybe we should get her talking," Sam's voice suggests from the other side of me. I keep my eyes shut. "So we know she's still here," he says.

Dean's hot breath hits my face as he lets out a heavy sigh, and I sway with him in his arms as he shakes his head no.

"Cas! Finally," Dean's voice is excited, but hesitant as Cas remains quiet. "Cas! Heal her!" Dean grunts, and what follows is more silence. "Cas!"

"Dean, you know I can't do that," Cas says somberly, a cold brush of air hitting me as Cas walks over to our side.

"Why the hell not?" Dean shouts with enough force to rattle me in his arms. I grunt from the jolt of pain it sends through my body, but he ignores me.

"I'm limited on my powers," Cas whispers. “Heaven, they-“ but he’s cut off by a scoff from Dean.

I feel myself weaken more and more with every second that they bicker around me, and I don't even have the strength to contest it. They're voices grow distant, and my muscles relax as I'm brought back to unconsciousness.

"I know you're not the marrying type, Dean, but-" I said, losing confidence in myself, and as if he realized this, Dean quickly straightened himself out to hold his palms up at me.

"No, no, it's not that. I'm just... I'm just a little surprised is all." Without letting me respond, he walks to his dresser and the drawer creaks as he opens it, the smell of old wood filled my nose as he rummaged around in it.

He turned to face me, and in his hands was a small, black box. His eyes softened, and he knelt down to one knee, "Y/N, I have been wanting to ask you this, maybe since the day we met," he chuckled. "And I had a whole speech prepared, but I think you got me beat," he laughed again, "and left me nearly speechless. So, Y/N, yes, I will marry you," he said.

--

The terrified shouts of the men around me brings me back to them, and thank God for that. My eyes still burn, and I clench them even tighter, forcing a tear I didn't know was there down and over the bridge of my nose.

I try to clear my throat to speak, but it's like it gets caught on something, and I cough to get it out. Dean quickly raises me up to a sitting position, which is excruciatingly painful.

"Y/N," Dean's voice shakes.

I take a few deep breaths in to clear my airway, and fight to open my eyes. They only open to a squint, but I take what I can get. I glance at Sam, then Cas who keep their eyes on the floor in front of them. My head tilts back as I look up at Dean. His eyes are trained to mine, his eyebrows pressed tightly together, as are his lips.

"Marry me, Winchester," I squeak, and I can see his face instantly relax.

"What?" he says, then the corners of his lips curl down. He nods gently and the tears he had been holding back come pouring down. He looks up at Cas, who immediately understand and kneels down next to us.

"Allow me," he offers, placing his hand under my cold fingers, and his other on Dean's shoulder. "Y/N, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony," Cas begins, and my lips quiver at the words 'live together' because it finally hits me that this is the end of that.

Cas continues, voice a little louder to overshadow the sobs that break through Dean's chest. "To love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"And even longer," I say, my eyes, even blurry, moving to Dean's in time to see tears slip down his cheek.

Cas turns his attention to my other half, "Dean, do you take-"

"I do," Dean eagerly states when he notices my breathing has slowed exponentially. "Skip to the end," Dean pleads.

"By the virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the Lord, I now pronounce you husband and wife". Cas sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. "You may kiss the bride."

Dean brings me closer to him, and his lips are hot and quivering against mine. I pucker to kiss him, but I know my lips don't move by the way his press deeper into mine to accommodate it. My breaths are even slower now, and I can feel myself slipping away again, no matter how hard I try to fight it.

I draw in a long, cold breath, trying to hold on as long as I can. "I love you, Dean," I say and as the breath escapes me, so does my light.

"I love you, t-"

----

If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

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[littlespacereader]

So I saw @aew-kun-age-regression repost gifs of Egon the other day from @sci-fi-gifs and for some reason….I GOT LIKE A MILLION IDEAS. I haven’t been in my ghostbuster phase in a while but it came back in full force when I saw Egon! Let me know if you guys want more Little ghostbuster stories! Please enjoy I quick little story of CG! Egon and little reader. Also thank you to @sci-fi-gifs for this amazing gif!

Little Lab Assistant🧪

Caregiver! Egon Spengler & GN Little ! Reader (SFW!)

Tags-hugs, being picked up, experiments, explosions, fluff

“Delivery!” The UPS man yells as he throw a package into the firehouse.

Upstairs sitting on a table with my legs swinging, I hear the mailman’s voice. I jump down and run over to Egon, pulling on his jacket sleeve.

“Papa it’s here!! The part we needed is here!!”

Egon, who was wearing the strangest contraption on his head, turn and looked at me with a smile. “The pressure gage for the proton pack.”

“Yes!! It’s here!!”

“Give me a moment and we’ll go grab it.” He takes the crazy contraption off his head starting turning everything off.

“I’ll go get it!” I happily announce running towards the fireman poles.

“Y/N…” I can heard his stern voice behind me, causing me to stop in my tracks. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I turn around and meet his stern gaze. “I’m old enough to go in the fire poles!” I stomp my foot.

“Y/N you know the rules.”

“It’s a stupid rule!”

“It’s a rule that protects you. You’re not allowed on the fire poles when you’re regressed.” He reminds me. “Remember the first time you did?” He points out.

I look away blushing, as he continues, “You were in a cast for 3 weeks.”

“That’s because Veckman was distracting me!”

“Oh? It had nothing to do with the fact you were feeling small and holding two stuffed animals in your hand when you went down?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I look away and plop myself on the ground crossing my arms, on the verge of a tantrum. “It’s not fair!”

Egon sighs. He flips the last switch off before walking over to me. Instead of towering over me, he takes a seat next to me on the ground. He doesn’t say a word, instead he takes the time to let me cool down myself.

“The stairs are boring.”

“I know they are to you. But you’re not allowed alone on fire pole when you’re regressed. The last thing I want is my little lab assistant getting hurt again.” He explains again calmly. “But that doesn’t mean you still can’t go on it regressed…”

I look up at him, curious to his wording. He stands, holds his arms out to me. I quickly stand and join him, getting picked up into his arms.

“If one of us takes you down, you can go on the fire poles.” He compromises. I smile back to him and nod, happy for the compromise.

He walks over to the fire pole with me in my arms and slides down it. I hold onto him tightly as we slide to the first level, giggling all the way down.

He smiles back to me, seeing how happy it made me. “There we go. Wanna grab the package?” He puts me down.

I run towards the front of the firehouse, past the Ecto-1 and to the front doors. I grab the package and run back.

The two of us go back upstairs and begin our experiment. Egon and I wear matching lab jackets and safety goggles as we work on a new updated version of the proton pack.

“Screwdriver?” Egon ask, hunched over proton pack.

“Screwdriver.” I dig through the toolbox and hand it to him.

As he works I hand him each tool that he needs, watching as the pack comes to live.

With a twist of a wrench, the proton back began to glow and hum. We both lifted our goggled eyes to look meet the others.

“We did it!” I smile back to him.

“It seems to be stabilizing but we shouldn’t be too sure…” he looked over the proton pack before turning away to walk and grab something. “I’ll only be a minute.”

I nod my head and look to the proton pack as it slowly starts to hum louder and louder. “Papa?….”

“I just want to make sure it’s going to equal out.”

“Papa-.”

“That way we can test it without-.”

“Papa?!” The humming was becoming louder and louder.

I backed away from the table as Egon. He dropped whatever he was holding and grabbing me under my arms, turning me and shielded his body against me as the proton pack explodes on the table.

After a moment I let go of my grip on him and slowly opened my eyes. I quickly looked at him, “Are you okay?”

He mods, placing a small kiss to my head, “Are you?” He still holding onto me as I nod back as well.

We both turn and look to the proton pack that has now causes a small fire on the table. The smoke detectors go off and the fire alarm lights flash. We just stare at it blankly, in awe of its explosion.

I calmly grab the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. “I thought it was going to work this time…” I sigh, slightly disappointed.

He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and smile back to me, “This is what experiments are all about, trial and error…more times than not error.”

“Don’t worry, I think we’ll get it next time.” He winked, patting my back.

“Back to the drawing board!” I smiled back.

He grabbed the burnt proton back with one hand and took mine in his other, “Yeah, back to the drawing board for us.”

[nicomundthered]

Blood Runs Cold

Injured Trilogy- part one | part two | part three

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: you save Ellie, but not yourself.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, this one is angsty, blood and descriptions of injury, I'm not a doctor, also don't know a thing about nature apparently, established relationship, happy family, drowning, fear of water, way more spice than intended it just happened- though nowhere near explicit.

word count: 10k | ao3

a/n: had to edit this twice and tbh I just need it finished, so please forgive the mistakes. part three might take a little longer...I’m having quite the anxious episode but enough of that, hope you enjoy!

masterlist

It took a while for you to recover, but you had. Well for the most part. Your hand was the only lingering problem. 

The doctor had done what she could for it but without the proper technology and equipment–even after the mostly successful surgery, it would never be the same again.

You had diligently followed the physical therapy exercises she gave you and weeks later, you could now make a fist and your grip strength was improving. The process was long and if you were being honest you were getting impatient. You were just thankful that it was your non-dominant hand because it was still frustratingly weak and uncoordinated in comparison. The doctor had confirmed that it would probably always feel that way. You'd be lying if you said that that didn't upset you, not that you weren't grateful to be alive–it just really sucked. 

Joel was different though. While you were a little depressed and frustrated, Joel seemed to be almost obsessing over it. He would inspect it every morning, seeing how the two deep scars from the surgery were healing. Then he would ask a couple times a day if you had completed your exercises. And he was also overly protective of it. He'd fuss anytime you picked up anything or when you'd tell him that you were ready to go back to work. The two of you argued over it quite heatedly more than once. 

One day, a couple weeks ago now, after he finished his patrol he returned his gun and gear, and checked in with Tommy for the next day's schedule. 

Tommy and Maria were in a deep discussion and when they saw Joel, Tommy bowed his head and Maria straightened, both looking extremely suspicious.

“What happened?” Joel asked concerned. He somehow knew it was about you.

Maria admitted that due to your tenacity, she had put you on light cleaning duties. That you had begged to have something to do, and that after a couple of hours you had grown frustrated from the weakness in your hand, which had cramped causing you to drop a plate. It shattered all over the ground and when you could only use your good hand to pick up the small pieces, it had sent you over the edge. 

You didn't listen to anyone and you'd picked up the sharp pieces using only one hand and it had cut you up. You did so with tears in your eyes and then you left without saying a word, hand covered in blood.

He quickly left, hurrying to you as fast as his feet would carry him.

When he came home he found you in your shared bathroom. You didn't hear him enter and were focused trying to pick out the small ceramic pieces that were lodged beneath your fingertips. 

You had been attempting to fish out the pieces for just under an hour now and your hands were shaking. You could barely work the tweezers due to the slick blood and your hand was cramping. Speaking of, it was properly hurting now–which it hadn't been for weeks now.

“Baby?”

You jumped, dropping the tweezers and cursing. You grabbed the hand towel and tried to cover your hand but he was quicker. His body came up behind yours and he placed both arms on the sink, trapping you in place, eyes making contact in the mirror.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning down, breath hitting your neck.

“It’s nothing, just cut myself cleaning.”

“Let–me see.” 

You almost gave in but just as you about relented, you thought of a different distraction and leaned back and pressed your backside into him, moving your hips gently from side to side.

His nostrils flared, eyes narrowed as he hissed at the contact. It took him a second to come to his senses because his body would alway betray him when it came to you, but then quickly snapped out of it and scooted back and put his hands on your hips preventing you from following. 

“Jesus–just let me see your damn hand.”

You turned around abruptly, he was still very much in your personal space.

“I just nicked it. I don't know why you're acting like this over this,” you suddenly felt small like a helpless child. Despite your confident voice, you could no longer look at him as tears welled in your eyes. You hated feeling helpless but you also hated needing help. And what didn't even make sense was all he wanted to do was to help you. Why you rejected it you weren't entirely sure. Maybe you were just tired of seeing the worried look on his face–the one that you continued to put there.

Though, as much as you loved him, you hated the way you always just gave into him. You blamed his eyes, his voice, his… you know what, it was just him–he was your kryptonite. 

“It was just a little cleaning,” you said, unwrapping your hand and held it up to him so that he could see. “I- I uh–broke a glass and tried to…”

“Maria told me.”

“Damn.”

He chuckled softly at your frustration and then frowned suddenly, “You're still lying to me. I thought we went over this.”

“This doesn't count though. It's not life or death. It's just a few stupid cuts.” 

He reached out and took your lightly bleeding hand. “I’m not too worried about this,” he said after inspecting it thoroughly, noting that you still had some small pieces still stuck. “But this…” he gently let go of your hand and picked up the other. It was still locked in a cramp, “This is what I worry about.”

He carefully pressed into the tight muscle and you gasped in discomfort, which was quickly replaced with relief as he kneaded the overused muscle until he successfully worked the cramp out.

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him almost ashamed

“You're doin’ too much.”

You yanked your hand from his like he had just burned you. He didn't react, just continued to stare at you. He wasn't going to take that back, you were doing too much too soon.

“I literally just swept and washed a few dishes. If–if I can't even do that then…”

“You were hurt,” the frown returned to his face.

“Yeah I was. Past tense Joel.”

“It takes time to heal. You almost…you almost died baby,” he put his hands in his pockets as he blinked a few times trying to rid the images of you doubled over coughing up blood. 

He wanted to reach out to you so damn bad, but knew that you needed space right now.

“I know that. But I feel so helpless, all the time. I- I can't do anything. I can't even turn the pages in a book…I can't even sit and fucking read. And you leave and do your shifts–shifts that we are supposed to do together. What if you got hurt because I wasn't there to watch your back?” He looked like he wanted to interrupt you but refrained. “And then Ellie has to come home from school and before she does her homework or hangs out with her friends she helps me cook and clean. I just—I’m just so sick of feeling useless. I’m so sick of feeling like a burden.”

There it was. 

He thought of a million things to say. He wanted to berate you for even thinking such a thing, but that never seemed to work on you, so he decided to go a different route.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” You said with more venom than you intended.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he cleared his throat, “When I was stabbed and you and Ellie had to do everything.”

“You were unconscious Joel. You were dying from infection.”

“That doesn't matter. I–I couldn't protect you two. I could barely understand what you said to me but I could make out enough.” He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his face, “I knew that you were going to leave and try to find me medicine. I tried to call out…I tried to stop you, but I couldn't. And then when the men–when the men came looking for you I–damn near lost my mind. But I couldn't move. I, I tried so hard to,” he felt the familiar pressure in his chest, “I…I watched you leave–and I couldn't even beg you to stay.”

You stood still as a statue as a tear rolled down your cheek, all you could do was stare.

“So yeah, I do understand. Feeling helpless is the worst, but you got me and Ellie, and you are getting better everyday. But pushing yourself isn’t gonna help you. So please do me–do us a favor and just let us help you. You’d do the same thing for us in a heartbeat and you are never a burden. Do you hear me?”

Your eyes were wide and mouth was slightly opened, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s ok. Everything turned out fine. We are both here.”

You launched at him, hugging him tightly. You kissed his neck and said, “I wish you would have told me. I know you dream about it…”

“I don't want to talk about that right now, ok? I just want to get that junk out of your hand and take a shower. Does that sound good?”

You agreed.

He took his time and worked efficiently, and in no time he had all of the debris removed and had cleaned your fingertips. Then he helped you undress and led you to the shower, where he worshiped you with as much attention as he gave you wounds, and then finished by cleaning your body as well–something that he's come to enjoy doing. When you got out of the shower he gently bandaged both hands, one for the cuts and the other to relieve the pressure on the healing muscle. 

He dried you off and helped you dress into your most comfortable clothes, which were ironically his clothes. Then you sat at the kitchen table and listened while he told you about his day. He heated you a can of your preferred soup and toasted you both some bread to go along with it.

After your shared meal, you moved to the bedroom where he read a couple chapters of your favorite book to you. You fell asleep with your head on his shoulder. And when you woke you were in his arms snuggled closely, your bad hand in his as he lightly massaged it.

You've been back on light duties for a month now–also known as cleaning and restocking the armory. It definitely feels boring and mundane after the action you were used to, but it was much better than doing nothing. Your hand still has the occasional cramp but it's much stronger. You’ve practiced on the shooting range a few times now and you weren't as hindered as you thought you'd be. Slower yes, but still able, with an aim as deadly as it's ever been.

It was the middle of a Wyoming winter and it was cold. Snow fell for four days straight covering the ground in a thick solid layer that probably wouldn't melt until the beginning of spring. Which made today's appearance of the sun that much better. Everyone in Jackson acted like it was a holiday. Two families were actually having parties and had invited you over. 

People liked you for a reason you didn't even know. You were nice and you worked hard but you weren't overly friendly, maybe you just appeared that way because you were around Joel and Ellie. Or maybe it was because you were close to Maria and Tommy. Regardless, there would be no partying for you. 

A few months ago you had talked Ellie out of going on runs until she was older. She hated it and took quite some convincing but you managed to make a deal with her. She focuses on school and her friends, and honestly just being a semi carefree teenager for once in her life, and a couple times a year the three of you would take vacations.

By vacations, you'd basically just camp and be away from everyone a bit. None of you would admit it but each of you missed the seclusion. Just the three of you, no obligations, nobody telling you what to do. You were grateful for Jackson, you all were and it was much better than being alone but that's how you lived for months together. That's where your strong bonds were made, and sometimes the sleeping bag under the stars felt more like home than your house.

Another part of the agreement was that Ellie got to choose where you'd go. It couldn't be too far, at least not during the winter, and the trip couldn't last more than a week–not until she was finished with school.

On this inaugural trip she wanted to see the rapids. Some friends had talked about how they canoed down them and she hadn't stopped talking about it since. You doubted that that was true, in a canoe? But it didn't matter it was a part of your deal and since the rapids weren't too far away the request seemed reasonable. 

And really it was a big deal for Ellie to want to go anywhere near water, let alone potentially dangerous water. She had let it slip once that she couldn't swim and the fact that she hasn't asked to learn yet tells you that she's afraid.

It was early morning, the sun had just begun to light up the sky. It was cold but no snow clouds were on the horizon. You were all packed with more things than you’d need in a week, and the trip probably wouldn’t even last three days. This was your first time leaving since your injury and it was Ellie's first since the agreement, which meant Joel was kind of a nervous wreck. He packed excessive amounts of everything–ammo, food, first aid. His pack weighed double the usual weight, and this time he saddled up his horse.

You found him in the stables. He was loading up the horse slowly and precisely, trying to slow down the inevitable–his family was leaving safety. 

“Are you ready?” 

He jumped slightly and laughed almost nervously. “You scared me sweetheart.” He sighed and fastened the last strap on the saddle, “Bout there, I wanna double check the…”

“Joel,” you crossed your arms and looked at him sweetly. “Everything is going to be ok. We are going to have a fun quick little trip. Nothing that we aren't used to right?”

He still had his back to you but you could hear him gulp and you could see him trying to shake his head in some sort of agreement. 

“Hey.” You walked up to him and held the side of his arms. “Do not put all of this on yourself. The three of us can defend ourselves, in fact I'd say that we are a pretty badass trio.” 

You smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. It didn't reach his eyes but he smiled nonetheless. 

“I’m afraid.” His voice was low where only you could hear him. He turned from you and focused on the horse. A little shocked that the confession slid out of him so easily. Completely unintentional.

His admission made you break a little. You didn't want this to stress him out like it was. This was supposed to be fun. “If you don't want to go me and Ellie–”

“No,” his voice was firm and commanding. “God- just no. I um–I just…it's safe here.” He was suddenly fixated on petting the horse, unable to look at your eyes that seemed to make him confess things without his permission. “And to leave it, if we don't have to seems…foolish to me.”

You tensed at his words. And boy did they make you angry. You and Ellie have been planning this and looking forward to it for weeks now. And he just waited until the last minute to express his concern? To call something you’d been dreaming about foolish?!

“We can't just stay here. We can't just be yours to play house with.” You paced a little and then continued almost grumbling to yourself, “Be your little housewife and we aren’t even married—go to school–be your picture perfect family. We can't do that. I can’t. I- I won't.” 

He turned to face you quickly. He hadn’t meant to upset you, really he hadn't but it did seemed foolish to him, dangerous for no reason. He didn’t like the way you were talking, it made him uncomfortable. Yes he loved coming home to you but it was just because he knew that you were safe. It had nothing to do with you being a ‘housewife’ to him. And he also didn’t like what sounded like an ultimatum, he would never keep you from leaving but it still frightened him. 

“I just meant–”

“Oh I know what you meant.” You felt your face getting hot. You didn't know where all of this was coming from and chalked it up to being frustrated at his last minute indecisiveness and your slightly stir-crazed mental state. “And it's such an easy thing for you to think about- building a wall around us caginging us up like animals in a zoo.”

“That's not–”

“Come home to a cooked meal.” You were pacing faster now, needing some kind of physical release. Your body was practically humming with pent up energy from being cooped up for months. 

“Baby it’s not–”

“All your laundry folded nice and neat.” You dug your boots into the stable floor with such force that dirt was actually starting to kick up. You could feel your blood pressure rise with each step. 

“To be propped up and ready to fuck when you come home–”

That made him snap. “Stop it!” He tightly held your shoulders and jerked you around hard. “I’d think very carefully about what you say next.”

You were still, all except for a wicked gleam of rebellion that flashed in your eyes. “Is that what you want?” You were breathing embarrassingly heavy.

He hated his reaction to all of this but regardless he still felt blood quickly rushing south and his pants tightened rapidly. You are just so damn hot and the image you were painting, well he hated to admit that the last part sounded appealing. Also he not so secretly liked it when you talked dirty.

“For me to be spread out on the bed for you, nothing to do but wait for you to get home. Be nice and ready for your—”

With absolutely no warning he spun you around and pulled you roughly to him. You arched into him instinctively and he placed one hand on your inner thigh and the other over your dirty mouth.

“I know it’s been awhile so I won’t get mad at you. But if you don't shut that pretty mouth of yours right now, we aren't goin’ anywhere.”

You ground your backside into him just as rough,  and bit at his hand, in a futile attempt of retaliation.

“Fuck…” He pressed himself harder into you. A sinful moan escaped you that was barely muffled by his large hand. He was certain that his strain was going to break his zipper. “If you needed this from me baby, all you have to do is ask.” He cooed into your ear making chills shoot down your spine and pressure pool into your belly.

He moved his hand that was resting on your thigh and started to unclip your belt buckle. 

The metallic clank broke you from your lust filled trance, and you shot out from his embrace. Your pupils were blown wide and you were almost gasping for air. “You aren't gonna- damnit, you aren’t going to distract me over this. We- we are leaving, with or without you.” 

You stormed out quickly. Not even bothering to buckle back up. 

If he were in the position he would have chased after you. But he couldn’t go running through town in his current state. So instead, to calm himself down, he thought about anything at all other than you.

A couple of minutes later, he led his overly packed horse over to where the two of you were waiting. Ellie was beaming at him and bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. He smiled at her but it made him feel like a piece of shit. This meant so much to the two of you. And he might have just ruined your whole trip. He hated when he made you angry but he still believed he had a point. 

He looked over at you and you quickly turned your head away to avoid him. He didn’t know how to apologize to you. Or rather he knew how but he couldn’t do that in front of Ellie. So he’d have to find the right time when you were alone. He wasn’t the best with words, in fact most of the time his words only made things worse. So he’d have to be patient and hope you’d be willing to forgive.

He was mid thought when you just started walking. Ellie cut her eyes back at him and raised her eyebrow in question. 

He just shrugged but he knew she was clever, sometimes too clever, and he knew that she knew he had done something stupid. 

“Come on.” He sighed, urging her to drop it and follow.

Luckily for him, she was more excited for the trip than curious about what had happened. But he still feared that it was only a matter of time before she questioned him to death. 

It took about five hours to make it to the river. It was a slow peaceful walk. There was no hurry—the journey and being at peace was the reason for the trip–it was mostly made in silence, the three of you weren’t big on small talk so it wasn’t at all uncomfortable, though he knew that you were only quiet because you were still stewing from earlier.

Ellie grew more talkative towards the end and you tried your best to carry on with her, but you were still infuriated with Joel. It was a buildup of things you supposed. But sometimes he really gets under your skin. The overprotective thing really works for you until it doesn't. And that’s not really fair to him because that’s who he is, and you knew that he hadn’t caged you in, you just felt trapped by your own injury. 

It didn’t help that it was after months of being cooped up and babied. Two things you disliked. If he was going to be like this every time you wanted to go for a walk- then flat out, the relationship wouldn’t work. You needed some semblance of freedom or you’d go insane. That scared you because you also needed him. And maybe you were being a little dramatic. He was currently beside you and you were outside of the gates. So maybe you were being a little hasty. Hopefully this outing will give you the reboot your mind needed.

Joel picked a place to set up camp while you and Ellie walked over to the edge of the cliff to see the now infamous rapids. They were more intense than you imagined, no way could a canoe make it down them.

Ellie was being uncharacteristically timid. You looked back at her and decided to give her some alone time. “I’m going to help him, don't get too close to the edge, it's slick.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at you.

When you made it back to Joel he already had half of the stuff thrown on the ground, but when he looked at you he gave a look. 

“What?” You placed your hands on your hips defensively.

“Nothin’...” he exhaled deeply, “Look- I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t wanna ruin your trip.”

“Our trip, it's our trip Joel. Look at where we are. Look how beautiful it is.” you gestured around you at the beautiful mountains, “Don’t you just feel…free?”

He looked at you with a sudden understanding, it was freedom that you needed. You’d told him as much, but seeing the stress visibly leave your face is what finally got it through his thick skull, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

You beamed at him, “See!”

“You look awfully beautiful out here like this,” his eyes sparkled at you. There was no other way to describe it.

“So do you.”

“Yeah?”

“Big time.”

He laughed, “See that big tree?”

It was the biggest tree in the area, impossible to miss, “Yeah?”

“If we were alone I’d apologize like you like me to, right up against–”

“Stop…that's–that’s cruel,” you blushed.

He laughed almost wickedly.

“Let's unpack before you find a way to get yourself back into trouble.”

Ellie was looking out, biting her lip apprehensively. Now that she was here she was fucking scared. Why did she even pick this stupid place, she couldn't swim, it was cold, and it was fucking stupid.

She walked closer to the edge and tried to peek over but she was too far away. She got frustrated with herself. Come on, don't be a pussy. She moved closer and closer still. Her chest felt tight and her legs were beginning to quake. She fought the urge to lay down and crawl to the edge, she didn't think that that would be a good look for her. So she continued to move forward very slowly, inch by inch, silently disregarding all sounds of internal alarms until finally, she could see all the way down into the raging water. 

Her toes kissed the edge and as she leaned forward, just as she felt that she had confidently conquered a fear, her boot slipped. “FU–” she was cut short as she twisted and tried to grab onto the edge, but in doing so she landed on her chest which then sent her flying backwards towards the water. Thankfully she landed on a ledge less than halfway down the steep drop. 

The ledge was small and narrow, she was very lucky to land on it at all. If she wouldn't have tried to hug the side of the cliff she would have fallen straight into the water. What she didn’t notice though was as she landed, the ledge moved slightly- small rocks broke off and fell into the freezing water below.

Ellie laid there for a few seconds and stared up at the blue sky. She took deep breaths trying to get it through her head that she was in fact alive–she wasn't entirely convinced. Until she heard you calling out her name. 

You were fortunate enough to look over just as she fell. You ran to her as fast as you could desperately calling out her name.

Joel was left alone and confused for merely a second before he noticed Ellie's missing form. His heart dropped as he sprinted past you and looked over where she used to be standing.

“Ellie?” you caught up and stood beside him.

You looked over the ledge as she carefully stood and brushed off some snow and dirt.

“Holy shit.” she said looking up at the two of you.

She didn't speak loud enough to hear because of the thunderous sound of the rapids, but you could read her lips. You exhaled in relief.

Joel was also very relieved. If she had fallen she would have hit the rocks, and if by some miracle she missed the rocks the currents were strong. Even an amazing swimmer wouldn’t be able to stay above the water, he didn't care to think about what would happen to someone who couldn't swim.

“Ellie,” he yelled down to her.

She looked up, and moved to hug the side of the cliff, “Yea?”

He laid on his stomach and reached down his arm as far as he could stretch, “Can you climb to reach my hand?”

She stretched her body as tall as she could, standing on her toes, her feet almost completely parallel to the cliff. She was still short, not by much, so she jumped as high as she could, still missing his hand. When she landed, the shifting of the ledge was still unnoticed. There was nothing to grab onto, there was nothing to grip to climb.

She jumped again but this time landing with more force. The ledge visibly shifted and larger rocks plunked into the water.

“Stop!” you screamed out. “Ellie, stay still!”

She gave a thumbs up, “No problem.”

You laid down next to Joel, “I’m going down there.”

“Like hell–”

“Hey, listen to me. I’m taller than her. I could probably jump and reach your hand, she just needs a boost. She could probably stand on my back and reach you.”

“Let me, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” you sighed and did your best to calm down. “I don't think the ledge is strong enough to hold you both.”

He opened his mouth but you continued, “And you know I couldn't pull your ass up.” you grinned, but he wasn't having it.

“Just wait a second. Let me figure something out.” He looked back towards camp, “We could tie some–”

“You saw the way those rocks fell. We might not have the time for that Joel.” You grabbed his forearm and looked deeply into his eyes, you weren't playing around, you were going to do this, “Please, let me save her.”

His brows furrowed and he looked at you with as much seriousness as you've ever seen from him, and that was saying something. He brought his forehead to yours, “Be careful,” he whispered onto your skin.

You nodded, noses bumbing against each other and then reluctantly moved from him and looked down, “Ellie? I’m going to come down there and help you, ok?”

She looked up at you in pure panic, “No don't! This fucking piece of shit rock is barely holding me up.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She practically cried out your name, “Please don't,” her voice cracked in her loud plea.

You looked at Joel and he was looking at you in premature anguish, “It’s going to be alright,” you said to who, you weren’t sure–probably everyone, including yourself.

You removed your gloves in case you needed a better grip and slowly climbed over the edge, Joel held on tightly, and when he looked at the two deep scars on your hand he froze, “God damnit!”

“What?” you looked up worried that something had happened, and saw him focused on your hand.

“Crazy woman, what are you fuckin’ insane?”

Your hand had crossed your mind, but getting Ellie to safety was the only thing that mattered. You smiled sadly- knowingly at him, and he all of the sudden realized what he was doing–he was slowly dropping you to your death. This wasn’t just a rescue mission, this was a suicide mission. The anger from his eyes was replaced with bone chilling fear. He desperately yanked you back up a little, pulling your arm too tight and causing your bicep to strain. 

“Wha–?” you saw the raw panic in his eyes as he tried to haul you back up, “Stop, Joel Stop!” you looked down at Ellie and then back up to him with tears in your eyes, “I’ll break my arm off if I have to.”

He knew you would. Selfless woman.

He looked back at you holding on to his hand, gripping the side of the rock face, eyes full of tears and determination–he loved you so. “You better come back to me.”

“I always will.” 

His grip tightened and he lowered you as far as he could, “Land softly.”

No shit you thought as you landed on the ledge. It dropped even further this time making a horrible crumbling noise.

You grabbed Ellie and hugged her tightly afraid that this was it. When nothing else happened you sighed in relief and quickly backed up. She looked scared, like she wanted to stay in your arms and hide.

“Come on, we have to hurry.”

You quickly got on your hands and knees and she stood on top of you. She reached tall but was scared to dig her toes into you–she didn't want to hurt you, and she thought of how long it took for your ribs to heal, how much pain you were in.

“Use your toes Ellie!” you demanded.

“I don't want to hurt you,” she practically sobbed out.

“You won’t, I can hardly feel you.”

She knew you were lying but she complied and stood on the tips of her toes. She brushed his fingertips and tried to reach further. 

“Are you close?” you asked, feeling the ground beneath you sway knowing time wasn't on your side.

“I can touch him but I can’t–”

“Jump,” you interrupted her.

“Wha….NO I won't do that.”

“Ellie, baby- you have to.”

“I don't want to.”

“I love you very much…everything is going to be ok.”

More rocks crumbled and Joel called out your name in warning.

“Jump Ellie!”

Without a moment's more hesitation she did and Joel gripped her wrist tightly. They worked together and quickly got her to safety. 

The pathetic excuse for a ledge was giving out. Your world was rocking back and forth like a buoy on the ocean. You stood slowly, doing your best to not make any sudden movements. You could hear both of them desperately calling out to you but you were focused. They didn’t know how precarious your situation had become. 

You stood slowly and reached for Joel’s hand. You had known going into this that it was going to be much harder for you to get up. Sure you were taller than Ellie but not by much. You were going to have to jump or climb. To jump meant if you missed- you had to land, and you weren’t sure it could take that force.

You dug your fingers into any crack you could find, there weren’t many but you made your way maybe a foot off of the ledge when two things happened—first your hand locked up in a cramp that rendered it useless. You dropped it to your side, trying your best to hide it from those above. And second, the ledge broke away and fell into the water. 

They cried out to you but you didn’t know what to do. You truly couldn’t do a thing with your hand, you couldn’t even use it as a stabilizer. You found a perch for one toe of your boot, but it wasn’t going to hold long. 

It was like the universe knew that this was how you’d die. It was shitty, but it was giving you a chance to say goodbye to the two people you loved most in the world, and that’s more than a lot of people got.

You looked up. Joel’s face was red from straining to make himself longer. Spit was flying from his mouth with every pleading yell. Ellie was screaming for you to hurry. Time seemed to slow down as you watched them. They were going to be ok, they had each other, and despite what Joel would argue that would be enough.

So you had one attempt. It was all or nothing. One small lurch forward and you’d either make it to Joel’s hand or you wouldn’t. The chances were very slim.

“I have one shot,” you called up.

“Just keep climbing baby, you’re doing so good!” he encouraged loudly.

“I- I can’t. My hand is locked up.”

He cussed and behind him his feet angrily kicked holes in the snow. Tears started falling from his face and passed by you like drops of rain, “I told you to let me! I could have—“

“I love you. I love you both,” you sniffled but felt at peace, you had saved your girl, “I’m going to try my best but I really don’t have much to propel myself from.”

Your hand slipped a little and you could hear Joel’s gasp and Ellie’s cry. 

“Ok I’m ready,” your muscles tightened in preparation and you tested the movement. Once you were satisfied that you’ve done all you could you started your countdown, “On, three-two—one.”

To give yourself some credit, you did make it farther than you thought. Probably a hands length away from Joel’s, but you knew from takeoff that it wasn’t enough.

You briefly saw the look of absolute horror on their faces as you took in as much air as you could, and shielded your head with your arms as you plunged into the freezing water.

You of course knew that water was powerful. It helped shape the earth with its constant rising and falling. Given time its pressure could smooth a stone, could forge new paths and create new bodies of water. It grew vegetation as easily as it could flood and drown. Any living thing needs it or would die. Water was both life and death, it was a powerful, powerful thing.

But you didn’t truly respect it until now. It tugged you under and slung your body around like a ragdoll filled with nothing but cotton. You had never felt so weighed down and yet somehow so weightless. You were so distracted by the sheer force of it that the sharp burning from the cold came later. Then oddly enough the need to breathe came even later than that.

After a few seconds of pathetically trying to fight it, you quickly realized you could do nothing but patiently wait for a current to bring you to the surface for a chance to get air.

It happened faster than you had anticipated. Before you knew it your head was above the water and you were gasping for oxygen. Some water got in but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest.

You glanced to the side at the riverbank and for the first time you noticed how fast you were moving. You were absolutely flying down the river. 

You went under a couple more times, and were banged around—hitting some rocks here and there, which would bruise but nothing serious. 

There wasn’t much farther to go as far as the rapids were concerned. The river was long but if you could make it another one- two minutes tops before it slowed and calmed. 

What a jinx you are.

Your ankle was suddenly caught between two rocks. You were stuck and the angry currents were pushing at the side of your face, trying their best to force you back under. You took a deep breath, and went under to try and wiggle your boot free. It was of no use so you untied the shoe and were launched free immediately. It took you by surprise and rolled you a few times—disorienting you, and then your luck ran out. You hit your head, everything went black.

When you fell he almost jumped right in after you. As matter of fact, if Ellie wasn't with him he would have. His whole body shifted forward begging him to leap, but Ellie’s hand quickly grabbed his shoulder tugging him back up, as she yelled out after you. She anchored him to the spot and kept him from acting irrationally.

He sprang to his feet, “Look for her I’m gettin’ the horse.”

She quickly got up and ran along the edge. It's funny that moments ago she was so scared to even go near it- now she was sprinting alongside it, the only fear she felt was for you. Her eyes combed the water trying to get a glimpse of your now flailing form, they were stinging from the cold but she refused to so much as blink. 

She looked farther down and saw you, just as you were thrusted up for air.

Joel passed her on the horse and she pointed ahead. She tried to keep up but you were both moving too quickly. She kept running even as she lost sight of you both.

Joel was riding alongside you. It was a difficult task to both keep his eyes on you, and keep his horse from running off the side but he quickly adjusted. You were doing a good job of keeping your head above the water, and he was starting to feel slightly optimistic.

The water was already calming down. 

He looked back to you all of that previous optimism died along with any hope he had left in him. This time he screamed your name, it was way too raw to be called a yell. 

He moved his horse back and forth searching. The horse was as anxious as Joel, it wanted to continue running. His heart was beating out of his chest as he continued crying out for you.

Then he saw you.

You were face down and floating downstream.

He charged the horse and went ahead of you to where the rocks stopped and the shore began. He dismounted, took off all of his clothes except his boxers, and ran into the water.

Even though it was calmer, he still had to curl his toes–gripping at the dirt in an attempt to brace himself with each step. When you floated near he swam out to you. It was rougher out where you were. 

When he reached you he quickly turned you over. 

You were so blue and he couldn’t tell if you were breathing.

Fortunately for the both of you, he was a swim champion in his teenage years and a pool lifeguard was his first job. He swam fast and strong and there was no way you’d release from his grip. 

When his feet touched the bottom he cradled you, and trudged through the water as quickly as he could–water splashing all around as his strong legs ran you to shore.

Ellie was waiting, bent over trying to catch her breath.

He got you out of the water and laid you down in the snow. 

“Is she breathing?” Ellie gasped as she looked down at your blue face.

“I don’t know yet.” He felt for a pulse but didn’t find one. Then he put finger under your nose to feel the air. Nothing.

“Damnit,” he immediately started chest compressions. 

Ellie’s legs gave out and she sat in shock. She had lost a lot but losing you felt like too much. You were the closest thing she’d ever had to a mom. You were her best friend. What the fuck was she supposed to do without you?

“...gotta be the hero—”

Joel was angrily muttering to you. Ellie could only make out occasional fragments, she wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying.

“—let anyone else get hurt.”

His voice trembled with emotion.

“Couldn’t just let me…hard headed…”

He was openly crying now and getting slightly winded from the exertion. His body pink from the cold with steam rising off of him.

“—drive me damn insane,”

Ellie was now sobbing with him- broken gasps and labored breaths. She hugged her knees to herself and began rocking.

“…better start breathing I swear to god.”

The horse moved, catching her eye.

“Please- don’t leave me…”

She turned back and watched him desperately pound on your chest. 

“—I fucking need you…you hear me?”

That was as close to a sleeping beauty moment that you’d ever get. You started violently coughing up water- expelling it from your lungs. He rolled you on your side so it was easier on you for you to spit up the liquid.

A rush of pure joy overcame him, “That’s it baby get it all out.” 

Ellie crawled closer to you like she couldn’t believe that you were alive. Something red caught her eye. “Uh, Joel?” she pointed behind your head, her voice sounding so small.

He was so fixated on watching your face that he hadn’t seen the blood staining the white snow behind your head, “Fuck.”

As you continued to cough he felt around the back of your head. There was a small swollen knot that was split by a not so deep cut. There was no indentation which was his main concern. And head injuries bled a lot, he reminded himself as he looked at his now crimson coated hand.

The coughs slowed down but he started worrying why you weren’t shivering. He was shaking uncontrollably. You were still. 

“Here’s what I need you to do- take the horse and bring all our stuff down here. We have to get her warm.”

Ellie was silent. Frozen in fear staring at the blood.

“Ellie…Ellie?!” He said loudly, snapping her out of it, “You hear me?”

“I- I’m on it.” She jumped on the horse and galloped away. 

He pulled you so that you were propped up against a tree–he didn't want you to drown in the water you were clearing from your body. He brushed some hair out of your face with his numb fingers–he couldn't even feel the soft strands. Then he started to gather sticks for a fire. 

You were in and out of consciousness. You mumbled a few times but never made much sense. 

Ellie returned and helped Joel finish building the fire, it needed to be big. He kept repeating that to her.

They set up the tent. Facing it towards the fire so that the heat wafted and was captured underneath. Then he put all the sleeping bags and any fabric they packed inside. By this time Joel was shaking so bad he could barely pick up anything- now all of his appendages were numb. His tremors were now so severe that his speech was broken.

“I’m gonna ge-get all of these wet clothes–off of her, and get her in-inside.”

She nodded, liking the plan so far.

“Listen- I don’t know how to say this a-any other way, but we are going t-to be naked.”

She looked a little put off and confused.

“It’s just for bo-body heat, nothin’ weird.”

“Nothing, weird?”

“You-you know what, I- I mean,” he clenched his fists trying to demand that his body stop shaking.

“Ok so what do you want me to do?”

“I want you…to ta-take the rifle, and be on lo-look out…she has to ge-get warm–”

“Joel…I’ve got this. Just…take care of her..please.” 

He nodded in an understanding agreement, if he takes care of you then everything else will be ok.

She picked up the gun and mentally started outlining a perimeter to pace.

He pulled you over to the fire and began to undress you. His hands fumbled with the buttons and he winced when he finally noticed that you were missing a boot. He removed your shirt and jacket, leaving your top half bare. His eyes traced the many forming bruises–nothing near as bad as the last time. Then his hands touched your belt buckle. Visions from mere hours ago when he was unfastening it for a completely different reason flashed before him. 

Tears returned and he started sniffing loudly, ‘gah’ he helplessly croaked out as he removed the remaining clothing. Nothing more to note, just more of the same–discolored bruising and small scrapes. 

The bleeding on the back of your head was slowing down, though he still wrapped the injury with gauze. The bandage wrapped around and covered the top of your forehead. 

He laid you gently on top of a sleeping bag–the tent had a floor but he was trying his best to keep you from the cold ground. Then he put all the other sleeping bags, blankets, and even clothes on top of you. He took off his wet boxers and threw them out of the tent and snuggled as close to you as he could possibly get.

Your skin felt like ice. He hissed at the first contact but without hesitation pulled you to him even tighter. He was truly enveloping your form- legs were entangled, his broad chest and strong arms cocooned around you securely, even his neck and head curled into you. His hands rubbed up and down your back trying to create a warming friction–but you still weren't shivering…you should be shivering.

He didn't know what else to do, and maybe he'd done all that he could do, but that was hard for a man like Joel to accept. 

He was warming up quickly, and as he regained some sense of touch, he started to feel your skin beneath his fingertips. You were so very soft, much too soft for hands like these he thought to himself. 

Out of nowhere he started talking. He didn't know where it came from, he just opened his mouth and words began pouring out. He wasn't even aware of what he was saying until he heard Sarah's name.

He was telling you about his daughter he then realized. 

You had only asked about her twice. Once at the beginning of your relationship when you found out about her for the first time–which led to him wrongly ignoring you for a whole week. And the second was when he screamed her name in a nightmare–he told you to never mention her again, and went for a walk that lasted a whole day. He didn't know why you put up with him.

Last time you were hurt, when he was so scared he was gonna lose you, he told you how she died. And even then, even after he had opened up and said her name for the first time in years, even knowing that he could trust you- that he loved you, he couldn't bring himself to talk about her…that was for some reason until this moment.

He told you about how smart she was, about how kind and funny, and caring. How she loved to make a big deal on his birthday and always found a way to surprise him with incredibly thoughtful gifts. That she loved to cook and take care of him, because she said he deserved to be taken care of. 

And as he was telling you all of the wonderful things about his daughter it made him realize that she would have absolutely loved you. The two of you had a lot in common and would have probably harassed him into taking care of himself. His chest felt unbearably tight, he had hurt the both of you by not talking about her–by not talking about her he hadn’t let her memory live on, and by not telling you he had unintentionally kept a huge part of his heart hidden.

Suddenly he felt you. If he weren’t melded to you so tightly he probably wouldn’t have, but he did. You were starting to tremble.

“That's it baby. Warm up for me.”

He kept rubbing your back. He could feel a thin layer of sweat collect between you, it was from him he was certain. He'd gone from cold to warm to quite hot. The fire had heated up the small space in no time at all. 

Before long chills started to shake your body and he could hear your teeth chattering. He felt you nuzzle closer to his chest.

“Sweetheart?”

“S’ cold.”

“You'll be warm in a minute.”

“Wha time is…?” your words were slurred.

“Late. We should probably wake up.” he really hoped that you would wake up, or at least seem more alert.

“Yea…”

And then you lost consciousness or fell back asleep one, or maybe both.

An hour or so passed and you were coming down from the worst of your chills. Your teeth were no longer clicking and your skin felt much warmer to the touch.

He felt your head shift to look up.

“Hey,” he smiled, warmly down at you.

“Hi,” you turned your head and took in your surroundings. Saying you were confused was an understatement. “Where are we?”

“You don't remember?” his brows creased and his smile drained from his face.

“I- I remember…ELLIE!” you sat up quickly, he did too.

“It’s ok, she's ok. I promise.” he pulled you into a hug and as your bare breasts brushed against his arm hair you noticed for the first time that you were naked–you both were.

“Joel, what the hell happened?” you asked into the crease of his neck.

He explained everything, and you were slowly able to fill all of the missing holes of your memory–the fall, the battle in the water, the rock that took you out.

“You saved me again,” tears fell from your eyes.

“Sweetheart I’ll save you everyday if you'll let me,” he wiped them away with his thumb, you heard the gauze rustle.

“Wha?” you reached up and felt the bandage seeming to cover your head. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he chuckled, “Just a little thing. I might have been…excessive.”

You laughed and the strain of it made you notice the pain in your chest. You placed your hand over your heart and looked at him, obviously confused.

“Yeah…that might hurt for a bit,” he winced. “You- you weren't breathing when I got you out of the water–”

“You had to do CPR!?”

“I did.” he swallowed thickly and looked away.

“Oh, Joel… thank you.” you moved your leg over his lap and straddled him, you grimaced, your body was more battered than you thought. He openly began to weep, sobs wrecked through his body. You rested his head to your chest, and rubbed the back of his head until his breaths calmed and his shaking stopped.

“Ya know, this would be really hot in other circumstances.” you weren't in the mood, not even close. You felt like you had been run over by a truck, you were just trying to lighten the mood. “In a tent, naked with you.”

He chuckled, you felt him smile against you. He turned and kissed your soft supple skin. “I’m so glad you're ok…when you fell, just you can't do that shit.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Save Ellie?”

“Can't just…react. I could have tied something together—”

“If she would have fallen into the water, I would have never forgiven you. You know that right?”

He shook his head, “I never would have forgiven myself but- but darlin’…jesus.”

“I don't want to fight. Not about this and not right now, my head is killing me, but know this Joel Miller- if either one of you ever need saving, and I can, I will.” You grabbed a dry shirt and pulled on over your head. “It isn't something up for discussion, and I won't be talked out of it. You jumped in the water to save me- that was dangerous, we sometimes do dangerous things for the ones we love.” He looked like a kicked puppy but you continued, “If I don’t act, if I sit back and think about it- took time to come up with a plan, and then lost you anyway…then what–then what would be the point?”

You put your hand behind his head and pulled him closer again, whispering against his face, “I know you'd do the same so don't play all high and mighty with me, you will always lose that battle,” you placed a kiss on his lips.

He returned the kiss eagerly. Your lips were chapped but they had never tasted better to him. He pulled you both up so that you were both kneeling, and he pressed your body into his. He wished you hadn't put on the shirt, despite all of the previous contact he still felt like he needed to feel you.

“Joel…” you reluctantly warned into his mouth.

“I know…I know–but god I just want to feel you right now.”

You hummed in agreement and stayed for another minute or two, and then slowly backed out of his embrace. He smoothed back his hair and looked around for his extra clothes. You threw his boxers at his face, he laughed and grabbed you back to him- suddenly catching you off balance and the jerking motion hurt your head.

You hissed and massaged your temple.

“Shit I’m sorry.”

“It's fine..I think I need to lie down.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just need a minute.”

“You rest,” he tucked you in and kissed your forehead, “I’m gonna tell Ellie that you're doin’ better.”

“Kay,” you closed your suddenly very tired eyes.

Come morning it was snowing. It was a pleasant snow, the kind that was peaceful to watch with large flakes that floated down to the earth. You had slept straight through the night. Joel and Ellie took turns, taking watch and staying by you. You woke with a ravenous appetite, and ate enough for three meals. Neither of them said a word, in a humorous delight- they just watched you scarf down the food.

They both insisted that you rode the horse on your journey home. You didn't want to, but you would admit that your equilibrium was still somewhat off, and your body was very sore. So you relented and did as they asked.

When you returned to Jackson, the doctor examined you and said that you had a mild concussion and were still experiencing the symptoms from hypothermia, but were otherwise fine. You'd just have to take it easy for a week or two.

A week later you were working back in the armory, this time though you had no complaints. 

When you came home, you opened the door and was immediately hit with a delicious aroma, “Joel? Ellie?” you called out a little suspicious. You tended to be this family's chef. 

“In the dining room,” Joel responded.

You could hear the two of them whispering hurriedly, and you heard silverware clanking around. When you entered the room your jaw dropped. 

They were both dressed up. Joel with a nice dark blue buttoned up shirt that you'd never seen- the sleeves neatly rolled up, dark pants, and his hair looked styled with…what was that gel? Ellie was wearing a white buttoned up shirt, and she had her hair down with one small braid off to the side (you had taught her how to braid her horse's mane and she was getting proud of her skills). 

The ambiance was almost romantic, dim with nothing but candles lighting up the room. The table was set like they were expecting royalty and they had a bottle of wine in front of where you usually sat.

Joel moved to your chair and held it out for you, “Your chair Madame.”

“What is this?” you hoped you didn't look as shocked as you felt. You did.

“I made you dinner.” Ellie said proudly, “So sit.”

She left abruptly to retrieve the food.

You chuckled and sat. Joel pushed you in like a gentleman and then placed your napkin in your lap. “Wine Madame?” He was trying to do a french accent but it oddly just sounded somehow even more texan.

You giggled, “Oui Monsieur.”

He laughed, “Am I not garcon?

“A little boy?”

He looked flustered, “Oh…I reckon I don't know much French.” He filled your glass almost to the brim. He looked nervous.

You giggled again, “I don't either.”

Ellie walked in with a massive pot. It was a stew loaded with meat and potatoes. Then she went back to the kitchen and brought out some bread rolls that she learned to make from a sweet old lady. 

“Ellie…what is this about?”

“I just– I just wanted to do something special for you. Joel said that you mentioned doing this before and I thought it might be something nice for you. I just…you fucking saved me.”

“Ellie–”

“No, I know. It still just sucks. How do you thank someone for saving your life ya know?”

“Easy.” you smiled lovingly at her.

She tilted her head in curiosity. 

“You live yours baby.”

She moved to you quickly, and sat in your lap.You held her tightly, and she pressed into the nook of your neck.

Joel shuffled and stealthily wiped his eyes.

She sat up and looked at you, her eyes were red, “I don't really want to cry any more.”

“Then hop up, and let's eat.”

She hugged you again and then stood.

“Tell me about what you made me.”

She smiled and told you about everything in great detail.

Dinner was immaculate, that sounds over the top but it truly was. Once you had all cleaned your plates she returned to the kitchen and brought out a pie. A pie!!! You don't want to admit it, really you don't, but you ate half of it.

You were so proud of her and kept flooding her with compliments. 

When everyone finished, you tried to help clean but they shooed you away. Joel grabbed your plate from you and whispered in your ear, “Go take a shower, I'll be up in a minute,” and gave you a rather passionate kiss.

You ran upstairs and took a very quick shower, your body was throbbing with anticipation. But alas, with belly full wine, pie, bread, and stew- after your warm relaxing shower- laying on your comfy bed that smelled of Joel's masculine scent- with a content mind and body, you fell asleep in record time.

When he entered the bedroom he saw you splayed out on top of the bed. “Sweetheart?” he asked softly- when he heard you deep breaths he immediately knew that you were asleep. It was hard to be disappointed when you looked so beautiful. He softly caressed your cheek, almost in awe of how incredibly lucky he was. He managed to gently maneuver you so that you were under the covers. He tucked you in and kissed the tip of your nose.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt, opened the dresser, and hid the ring back inside.

--------

if I forgot to tag you I am so sorry: @givemeth , @farintonorth

[heliads]

heyy, congrats on 10k! Can I please request a 💌 for either Minho or Thomas from Maze Runner, whichever comes easier to you

short description : guarded, sceptical, very picky when it comes to romance/people in general, like the “found family” trope, love depth and intelligence in people/conversations, a girl with thick black hair, brown eyes, observant, objective, interested in psychology, vivid imagination, like to research random things

I love your writing, thanks for considering my request :))

thank you!!

masterlist

It’s barely midmorning, and Minho is already bothering you. As third in command in the Glade, you take your job seriously. Alby relies on you and Newt to be his voices of reason in the midst of all this chaos. Between the terror of the Maze and the stress of managing so many Gladers, you need to be focused, always.

This, however, is hard to do when Minho seems to have made it his life’s work to mess with you. Every chance he gets, he’s interrupting your tasks, pestering you with questions, or saying a thousand jokes a minute just to get you to laugh. You complained to Newt once, but he just brushed it off, said the boy was flirting with you.

And, see– that’s the problem, isn’t it? You wouldn’t mind the flirting if you were anywhere else. If this were a better world, you’d have your memories and you wouldn’t be in the Maze and if Minho flirted with you, you’d do it back in a heartbeat. You’ve harbored a small crush since you first met him, and some days, you want nothing more than to cave and let Minho know that his efforts haven’t been in vain.

The moment you let yourself start thinking about, though, you remember all too well that it won’t come true. The Glade needs you focused. You have a job here, and you won’t let Minho’s absentminded flirting get in the way of it.

It’s tempting, though, it always is, and he’s starting to wear you down. This morning, Minho’s on his day off from running the Maze, and for some reason he’s chosen to spend his down time with you instead of sleeping in or loafing around like the other Runners.

It was a good gamble on his part, too. Minho catches you laughing at one of his jokes and beams as if he’s just won a contest. “See, there’s that pretty smile! I knew it was in there somewhere.”

Instantly, you try to stay serious again, but your smile can’t help but keep flickering back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m working, Minho, I’d never let myself get distracted.”

Minho pouts exaggeratedly. “But I’m a wonderful distraction.” When you don’t immediately agree, his normally confident smile slips slightly. “You would tell me if you wanted me to leave, though, wouldn’t you? Alby says I’m harassing you too much.”

“You’re not,” you reply automatically, surprising yourself with the quickness of your response. “I mean, I’d never let you distract me that much. Yeah.”

A knowing grin starts sliding over Minho’s face. “I think what I’m hearing is that I’ve got a chance, then. Is that true, Y/N?”

You tentatively meet his eyes. “Depends. I’m an awful lot of work.”

“I’m a hard worker,” Minho tells you. “I bet I could figure it out.”

At last, you stop trying to hold back your smile. “Then yeah, I would say that you have a chance. Better not waste it.”

“I won’t,” Minho promises, immediately swooping forward to press a kiss to your cheek. It occurs to you that loving Minho might not be as bad as you worried. In fact, it might even be perfect.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.5 : repeating phone calls (18+)

Chapter list Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung Genre: Crack, smut, fluff (18+) word count: 3.4k tags: mention of kids, grocery shopping, domestic vibes, mention of alcohol, dilf!wonwoo, neaighbor!wonwoo, pet names (good girl, baby), heavy dirty talk, phone sex, video call sex, switch!soonyoung, mutual masturbation, dacryphilia, suggestive wonwoo content Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again. author note: hi, she's back. (p.s. 2024 nana girl come back more jesus christ)

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

“So you have a daughter? And you and her mom are divorced?”

Yep, you definitely jumped a few chapters here.

Wonwoo nods back at you with a solemn gaze. “I’m guessing that’s why I was alone that night.”

“I’m sorry, but…you could understand where I was coming from.”

“I do, but I didn’t figure it out until I saw that the picture was knocked over on my table,” he chuckles to himself.

Wonwoo invites you over to his ex’s place later that day, knowing he couldn’t be far from Winnie. He offers you tea, which you gladly accept, and waits as Wonwoo tucks his daughter in for you both to discuss the recent events privately. You sit on the couch, a healthy distance away from him, and politely sip your tea. 

“I told myself if I ever saw you again, I’d explain myself because only god knows how guilty you must’ve felt. And there you were, mere feet away from me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up in the process of his words, like dangling your body above an erupting volcano. “Crazy how small the world is.”

“It’s probably weird but…”

“But what?”

He shakes his head, not completing himself. “It’s probably best it didn’t happen, seeing as we’re gonna be neighbors for a bit.” He put out an open hand. “Hope you welcome me with open arms, neighbor.”

You accept his handshake with a warm smile. “Welcome, neighbor.”

You wonder all night whether the rest of his sentence is what you think it’d be. 

It’s probably weird, but I wish you would’ve let me explain. Or, It’s probably weird, but I think about how that night could've went all the time. Or even, It’s probably weird, but I wish I could’ve fucked you that night like you deserve.

You‘re curious about which one is the closest to him. Either way, you knew if things went the way they should’ve, you’d be screaming his name from all hours of the day.

Of course, that didn’t matter now. Its best things were left the way they are. No matter how hot of a DILF he is.

To distract yourself, you attempt contact with Jeonghan again, only receiving dial tones in response. You think to yourself if sleeping together, even if it was meaningless, is worth taking a risk on. You stop after the tenth attempt and go back to budget keeping. 

What Mingyu paid you would pull you over for a bit but you know eventually it’ll all run out. You don’t want to think about what happens once it does.

And like a miracle, your phone goes off, Jeonghan’s contact name popping up on screen: demon man. “Took you long enough.”

“Why? Miss me already?”

He hasn’t called you back in so long and he thinks it’s time to joke? “I was worried sick. Excuse me if my best friend goes AWOL and—what’s that?”

“What’s—mm—what?”

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“You could’ve called at a better time but what is it? I’m all ears.���

“No, no. Sounds like you’re actually busy, so call me back when you’re not. Thanks.”

You hang up on him, trying to decipher what you heard on your own. If you knew any better, it sounded like he was around other people, machinery, and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was, he’d eventually explain. And you weren’t one to pry, especially if it’s what you were thinking it was and that he lied to you. Again.

Wrong distraction. You can do better.

“How’s work?”

You can hear Soonyoung smile through the phone. “The bride luckily is no bridezilla. All I can ask for…what are you wearing?”

You roll your eyes, grinning from ear to ear, “Shut up.”

“Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You can practically hear the corner of his lips turn up in a sinister Cheshire smile.

“You’re literally at work.”

“Yeah and everyone else is basically out with their clients. I’m in my office dealing with my own shit. Entertain me a little. Pretty please…”

“Fine,” you glance down at your cozy attire as if you’ve forgotten, before picking up the conversation, “ A My Melody t-shirt and short set.”

“Hot.”

“You’re so annoying.” You scoff.

“Take pics for me.”

You get up from bed and walk to the mirror, capturing a quick picture before sending it. The man audibly coos from the other end, indicating its arrival. “You look adorable, aw. Wish I could rip that off of you and bend you over my lap.”

Your eyes shoot open. “Soonyoung!”

“Relax. No one’s even around. If it bothers you that much I’ll—" You hear him get up from a desk, “continue this in the bathroom. The single stall kind. Better?”

You hear a heavy door shut in the background and a loud click of lock follows. You sigh, feeling a bit of relief. “Yes. Actually.”

“Good, because maybe you’ll like what I see.” There’s a slight rustling before your text tone goes off, seeing him done up in business casual attire. In your humble opinion, he’s the one that looks hot. His shirt buttoned only two-thirds of the way, reveals a delectable amount of skin. Perfect for biting, nibbling, marking. Your mind is haywire thinking of his perfect dainty little nipples, nicely shaped to suck on. Fuck did it suck to have mismatching lives right now.

“Now you look good enough to eat.”

“Yeah, wish you could be with me right now? Thinking about how long I can fuck you in here before we get caught?”

“Mmh,” your hand naturally falls on top of your clothed heat, rubbing the silk between your already moist folds, “I love how you get me.”

“Yeah? Whip out Facetime for me then.” 

You switch out into the camera, showing off your reflection in the mirror. Your legs dangle off the bed as you try posing seductively as you can. Soonyoung appears on screen soon enough, air pods in his ears and hard cock poking out of his slacks, appearing before his office’s bathroom stall mirror. He presses his lips together, a low growl taking residence in the column of his throat. “Mmh, spread your legs for me like a good girl.”

You do as he commands, and you prop your legs up on the edge of the bed. Teasingly, you allow your legs to part to reveal the wet stain on your silk shorts, which only went your arousal thick and abundant enough to soak through. “Look at you, wet smack in the middle where your pretty pussy is. I’d kill to eat your pretty fucking cunt right now.”

You run two fingers up your clothed arousal. “It misses you, thinking about your fat cock splitting me open—Mmh—I could cum just thinking about it.”

“Patience, baby, you can hold out for me.” He unbuttons the top of his pants, the zipper moving down achingly slowly before he palms himself over his underwear. “Just relax…take it off.”

Your pussy glistens from the room lighting and reflects back in the mirror the moment it comes off. Your fingers gingerly reach over–making sure the view is aesthetic and clear–your arousal gushing around your digits. Soonyoung’s adam’s apple bobs, and a low grunt escapes from his lips. “So fucking cute…So needy and perfect. I wish I could be your fingers now, touching your skin, kissing your face, cock inside you so deep you swear you’re seeing stars.”

You bite your bottom lip, fingers easing over your slit before plunging them inside you at the pace you imagine he would. You conjure the ghost of his breath on your skin, the graze of his teeth biting at the side of your neck, and his cock curling helplessly inside you as he rams you into the next century. “Mmh, Soonyoung…”

“…You look so…sexy right now…”

He finally pulls out his cock, rubbing up his length, steadying his gaze on you. His voice drops in a low rasp, echoing praises. “Keep doing that baby…I’m gonna make you cum…Such good girl–mmh–doing everything I ask. You could eat me up? I could eat you up, and you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod lazily, only moaning in agreement.

“You sound pretty baby, but I wanna hear you talk…talk to me, talk to me while I fuck you, baby.”

“So…hard, Soon-nyoung.” You buck your hips up. “But I wish you were here…your cock looks so pretty…want to put you in my mouth…”

“Mmmh, wanna suck on my cock? You ask too, too much, baby…” he draws out something in his mouth, swishing something inside, before spitting on his cock. His smile runs wide like a jester, but his eyes dipped in a haze as if under the influence of psychedelics. “But it wants you too…your pretty mouth was made for my cock, baby. Can’t help but imagine how you look with your lips wrapped around me…can’t stand not having you keep it warm right now…”

The slick sound of Soonyoung getting himself off drives you more insane with every passing minute, whimpering leaving your lips replaying the image of his salvia splattering over his shaft. “Soon, that was so hot, what the fuck?”

“It’s funny. When you cuss at me like that, you still sound like an Angel…my perfect little Angel…made for taking my cock…you’d take my cock so well right now…”

You throw your head back, knuckles deep inside you. You choke up on your words, desperation “Oh fuck…you don’t know what you’re doing to me, Soonyoung. Fuck. I’m so fucking horny right now because of you…”

Soonyoung goes silent, having you only hear the sound of his breathing in its presence, until he voluntarily tension. “Are you crying, Y/n? 

“…no,” you answer on cue as tears begin to shed.

“Fuck baby, that’s so pretty.”

“Soonyoung…” You whine, practically shaking as his grip visibly wraps tighter around his cock, flicking his wrist faster.

“Push deeper more fingers, cry for me, Angel.” His voice is so sweet and tender, you could just melt. You comply immediately, filling yourself with three digits as you fall back in bed, scooting up on the bed frame and turning the camera around to make sure Soonyoung still gets his show.

“Feel so good, baby, such a mess all for me… I could...I could…” he whimpers desperately, fucking his hand until his voice echoed back to his ears through the listening devices, “I might cum, Angel…help me out here.”

“Soonyoung…you sound so good…”

He winces. “Not like that baby, hold me ba—“

“Moan for me more, baby boy…”

“Y/n…” He ebbs out his whine stricken, feeling the tension in his thighs.

“You sound so pretty,” you encourage, “ is that how you normally sound while I choke on your cock? I don’t think so… more for me…beg me…” 

“Baby…mmmh, I want to cum in your pussy so badly…please…”

Soonyoung makes sex more enjoyable than most, he isn’t afraid to go weak when you ask. Damn, do you love to hear him whimper.

“My pretty little dildo is talking back at me so much today. Whimper for me, toy. Your turn to cry.” His cheeks matches his ears, red as a summer sunset. Perspiration beads on his forehead as he clenches his thighs. His voice comes out in bursts of anguish, tears giving him glassy vision. “Yn…”

“Faster, fuck your cock faster…I want to see you cum all over your pretty finger…you want me to fuck you? Hmm…want me to fuck your pretty cock?”

“Oh…fuck me, fuck yeah, fuck me, Y/n…use me…shit!” He cums hard spilling like a sprinkler on the bathroom floor, “Fuck—fuck…”

His eyes are tired but caught you rubbing your clit, your voice buzzing in his ears. “Mmh, Soonyoung…”

Your voice stretches out into squeaks until you’re cumming like he did. You drench your sheets, staining them and your inner thighs with your cum, and look back at him with half-open eyes. “That was really fun.”

“We should do it again, just in person next time. And soon.”

You nod back into the camera, giving a curt kiss to the camera before signing off and cleaning up the mess you’ve made. That session alone took too much out of you and find yourself asleep shortly after, not waking up until it’s close to dinner time and that’s when you hear a knock on your door.

On the other side is Wonwoo, looking back at you with a soft spectacled gaze. “Hey. Winnie and I were wondering if you wanted to catch dinner with us?”

“You’re going out?” At the thought of food, a soft rumble only you’re aware of plays in your stomach, indicating your famished state. 

“Actually staying in, was planning to hit the grocery store but I’m not really sure where it is. Thought I’d ask you.”

You know damn well that he can just pull up Google Maps and find it himself, no problem. But the fact that he thought to ask you and invite you over to dinner as well compelled the butterflies in your stomach to come out early this season and you can’t help but accept.

“Just let me go get changed and I’ll be at your door.”

You guide them both to the supermarket around the corner, Winnie in between you with your fingers laced through her tiny ones. She insists she’s too big for the child’s cart and she’s satisfied on the ground, politely following. You realize how much she resembles her dad, replicating his grin that can’t help but smile back at. “She’s adorable,” you say as she runs off to get a snack she was just stomping her feet excitedly over a few seconds ago. “Don’t tell that too her, she’ll never stop visiting you,” her father grins.

You look back at the tall man to lightly nudge him, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“She’s all cute and polite right now, but you should see how she is after a week of knowing you. You should hear all the stories of the little pranks she pulls on Junhui, her mom’s husband.”

“And who does she learn that from,” you question with curious eyes.

He raises his hand, pearly whites on full display, “Guilty.”

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s buy one get two! Can we please get them?”

A toddler that understands the value of store sales. You could appreciate that.

Wonwoo bends down to her level. “You know you can't finish that all. It can ruin your dinner to have too many snacks.”

“We can give them to Y/n!” She turns to you with wide puppy eyes. “Don’t you want them, Y/n?”

Well, how can you say no to that?

“Yeah, I don’t mind taking one.”

She jumps in that familiar action of pure joy and runs to hug your legs.

“She’s already close to making you her next victim. Maybe we’re already too late,” Wonwoo jokingly whispers.

Grocery shopping goes without a hitch, with only a slight bump of an unfamiliar middle-aged woman complimenting what a cute family you all made. To quote, “a beautiful couple with their beautiful daughter; what a precious sight.” You are going to correct her until Wonwoo intercepts by thanking her, zooming past her as you make the exits. You point that out, and he simply shrugs. “No harm so foul. Plus we all do look cute. Didn’t see a reason to refute.” And those words linger all the way back to the apartments.

Images of you having a life other than your own, you see yourself, smiling while there’s a faceless masculine figure that hugs you lovingly from behind. You feel warm, cherished, and a little bit hopeful. You hadn’t thought about a life like this, since your last serious relationship and you hadn’t thought you would in, well, ever. Until now that is.

Back at Wonwoo’s place, you prepare help to prepare dinner and it is as delicious as any home-cooked dinner, especially with the presence of Winnie, who is a happy little kitchen assistant and eager dinner attendant. You share laughter and stories of Winnie’s childhood, discussing movies and hobbies, and seeing her eyes light up at the topic of giraffes. It makes you hope one day you’d have someone happy and joyous as her in your life.

Eventually, Winnie’s full stomach wins over her consciousness as she noticeably drifts off to sleep. Before Wonwoo can let that happen, he helps her get ready for bed while you volunteer to take care of the dishes. When you finish up, it sounds like Wonwoo is close finishing up too, hearing him sing a lullaby to lull Winnie successfully. Through the crack of the door, you see he kisses her good night before leaving. He closes the door behind him, smiling knowing that both of you’re both now finally alone. Well, as alone as you can be in his current situation.

“A drink? Like good times?” He asks already heading to the cabinet he knows his ex keeps around the alcohol.

“Funny. Last time I drank with you I thought I was making a big mistake. How can I know that wouldn’t be happening again?”

There’s something in his subtle grin that’s playfully mischievous, something you didn’t expect to see the first night you met him. “A glass of wine doesn’t hurt anyone. “

You accept the glass of wine against your better judgment and join him sitting crisscross on the couch

“It’s no 17-year-old Cabernet but barefoot is pretty good.” He chuckles.

“I’m a firm believer that cheap doesn't equal bad so you got me there.” 

“So, assuming I didn’t get a chance last time, I’d really like to get to know you. Especially now that I’ll probably see you more. Neighbor.” He raises his white wine in your direction, to which you clink, simultaneously taking a sip. “What do you want to know?” 

“Well, I only ever caught on to your name and how you smell like jasmines, so tell me something more about yourself.”

You bond over bottles and bottles over fermented grapes, smiling and laughing over the little things that come up in the topic. You hardly notice how your bodies inch closer and closer. The heat of his body radiates onto you like a furnace. You know it how he’s slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing flushed, taut skin. Skin you almost licked the sweat clean off if not for a silly misunderstanding. 

“You’re…seducing me.” You squint with an accusatory finger in his direction.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“You’re not denying it.”

He finishes the last of his glass before setting it aside on the coffee table. “Maybe I’m figuring you out. Maybe I’m thinking about how that night one second we’re kissing, having a good time. Next, you're running away from me.”

“Wonwoo, I thought you were married,” You remind him.

He rolls his eyes, visibly buzzed and red. “You still could’ve asked me.”

“Trusting men isn’t really my best strong suit.”

He chuckles, nodding, “Fair enough.” He bravely scoots closer, smelling dangerously of his spiced cologne and bitter fruit. “So, what’s your opinion of me now?”

You muse back at him, rubbing your eyes over his body. “Closer to how I originally thought of you. Handsome, sexy, kind of perfect.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Oh, I am far from perfect.”

“Of course you are, but you’re good at pretending that you are anything but. Like you really are perfect.” Your hand trails over the rise of his chest, briefly catching the acceleration of his heart. His eyes drift off to your fingertips. His hand hovers over them until he claims the back of your hand. You take apart a button on his top teasingly, feeling his grip wrap tighter. “At least you look perfect.”

His fingers through your hair, brushing over your skin delicately before in a husky voice says, “…You make it really hard to not kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

The moment he hears those words, his lips crash into yours, pulling you by the small of your back and pressing against you. His lips are sweeter than you remember, more desperate than the first time, and his cock—pressing into your crotch when he thrusts you into his lap—feels bigger, harder than what you imagined. You bite back your moans, registering with your setting, and Wonwoo senses it, pulling away. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re right,” You sigh, slightly disappointed, “We just reacquainted ourselves, it’d be wrong given our circumst—“

“I mean, we shouldn’t do it here.” Grinning back at you, he reaches out for his phone on the coffee table, reminding you of the mobile baby monitor app he has on his phone.

“Let’s take this to your place.”