#these are how the items i look in my head

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Good boy gone bad- H.HJ

Today is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in my country and I wrote this funny fluff fic to celebrate. A special thank you to my girl @jehhskz for giving me this incredible idea. I hope you like it 💜 And also have a nice day with your boyfriend Hyunjin 🤭

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: suggestive, supernatural and magical stuff, munch! Hyunjin

Alexa, play Good Boy Gone Bad by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

The lights are low. Not because you're trying to be romantic, but because everything bright, it hurts. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of your apartment, in yesterday’s hoodie, surrounded by the wreckage of your evening— an empty takeout container, an untouched glass of wine, and the poodle your ex gave you last Valentine’s Day.

Prince.

 Fluffy, white, ridiculously spoiled. And the only one who hasn’t left.

"You're all I got now", you whisper, reaching out to scratch his head

He yawns with that squeaky sound of his, then rolls over, showing you his belly like he knows exactly what comes next. You give in, of course you do, rubbing gentle circles on his stomach until his little paws twitch and he lets out a sigh like he had a long day.

"Don't look at me like that", you murmur, flicking a stray piece of lint from his fur. "It’s not my fault I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough’, you say flatly to no one in particular. Then you glance down at Prince, "That’s what he said”

You scratch behind his ears. He yawns.

"Not passionate about my goals. Not the kind of person he could ‘build a future with’ "

You let out a heavy sigh, "I work. I pay rent. I live… I just didn’t live the way he wanted me to"

Prince snuffles and rolls onto his side, now demanding back 

"He wanted me to quit everything and follow him to Seoul. No plan. No job lined up. Just… pack up and support him. While he ‘figured it out’ "

You look at Prince.

"You, my fluffy bastard, are what he left behind when I said no"

You stroke a hand down his little spine. Prince shivers, sighs, tucks his nose into the crook of your elbow like he knows this is the only kind of affection you’re getting tonight.

"I told him I couldn’t just give up on everything. That I loved him, but I couldn’t abandon myself for him. And he said I already had”

You laugh, bitter, humorless

"And now here I am. Three weeks for Valentine’s day. No plans. No boyfriend”

Prince licks your chin.

"Except you"

You blink down at him, emotionally exhausted.

"My ex dumped me and left me with a poodle who refuses to eat unless I hand feed him roasted chicken breast"

You sigh, whispering into his fur, "At least I have you”

Prince curls deeper into your lap like you were just one. You love how warm he is, how he fits perfectly against you— how he stayed.

You love that it makes you feel a little less alone.

Then, suddenly, your phone starts buzzing

 Incoming call: Quokka 🐿️

You groan but swipe to answer, “What?”

“OK LISTEN, before you hang up…”, Han’s voice explodes out of the speaker, “I may have unlocked the universe of infinity love”

“You bought another cursed item off the internet, didn’t you?”

“I invested, Yn. There’s a difference. This is artisanal craftsmanship with metaphysical properties”

“Oh, like that energy activating incense for ‘better blood flow down there’ you bought on AliExpress last year?”

“Ok, first of all, it had 1.2k reviews and a video testimonial”

“You said it only made it worse. Very legit”

“I was under a lot of stress, so obviously it blocked the energy flow”

“Sure”

“But not this one, Yn. This one, it came with a sparkly handwritten note. In blue glitter glue, so it’s legit”

Prince lifts his head and blinks at your phone. You stroke his back, waiting for what’s coming.

“It’s a love candle! But like, not a regular candle, a summoning candle. Like for attracting hot people”

“You mean… a spell for getting laid?”

“No! I mean like a soulmate magnet. A pheromone booster for your aura. It came from, like, Russia? Or was it Chicago? Well, somewhere magical”

You close your eyes and rub your temple, “Han, are you high again?”

“No, but I did almost pass out from the fumes when I lit it. Also, small detail… the wax made my dog horny. He’s been humping the couch for about fifteen minutes”

You pull the phone away from your ear, consider hanging up, then put it back, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re single, obviously! And miserable! And being held hostage by a demonic stuffed animal with a superiority complex”

You glance down. Prince is licking his paw with complete indifference.

“I think it could work for you”, Han continues, “The candles are colorful. You like colorful things. Mine is shaped like a torso, and I think one of the nipples fell off in shipping but that could be symbolic or whatever”

“I’m hanging up”

“WAIT, LISTEN! Just… light the candle, and picture your ideal man. Like… a nice guy. A hot guy. Someone with a big dick”

“Goodbye, Han”

“THE CANDLE WORKS!!  I lit it last night at 11:11 pm, prime manifesting hour, and boom. This morning? My barista asked for my number”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“I’m not. She said, and I quote: ‘You smell like confidence and testosterone. Can I have your number?’ You know I definitely don't smell like that ”

You glance at the half empty wine bottle on your coffee table, “This is the weirdest call I’ve had in weeks”

He’s grinning through the phone, you can feel it, “You’re welcome. Want me to send you the link?”

“I’m not summoning sex demons for Valentine’s Day, Han”

Han scoffs, “They’re not demons if they’re hot and promise giving you back massages”

“Goodbye, Han”

“Don’t blame me when I’m happily cuddling after sex and you’re still watching Netflix with your dog”

“Enjoy your haunted candle”

“Oh I will. And so will my barista”

And with that, you end the call.

Prince blinks at you. You blink back.

“Don’t you dare turn into a human just to prove him right”

•°. *࿐

Later that night, after you've eaten both your dignity and an entire sleeve of cookies, your phone buzzes with a text from Han.

Quokka 🐿️:

 [Sent you a link]: www.getlitgetlaid.com 

 You're welcome 😉

I lit another candle and now the barista gave me a free muffin   

That’s foreplay, Yn!!

You stare at the link then you stare at Prince. He stares back.

You whisper, “This is stupid”

But you click it anyway.

The site loads with sparkly gifs, pink pop ups, and a massive banner that said:

💘 GET LIT GET LAID— SPARK YOUR SOULMATE 💘 One candle. One night. One stupid hot decision.

There’s a category list with candle names that range from “Mommy issues” to “Sugar daddy” to “Loser trapped in a hot body”

You narrow your eyes, “Han needs help”

Scrolling through, one product makes you freeze.

It’s titled:

VALENTINE #08: Sweet Venom

You start to read the description, already regretting:

🧸 Smells like gummy bear and sin 💦 Notes of grapefruit, bubblegum and fake innocence ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Dimples – Boyish grins – Soft flirting – Oversized hoodies – Shy glances that secretly know exactly what they’re doing – Possibly: men who giggle when they kiss you 🚨 Caution: side effects include blushing, butterflies, and delicious makeouts.

The candle wax is bubblegum pink, sprinkled with red glitter and shaped into a gummy bear wearing sunglasses

“Jeongin”,  you mutter.

 It’s literally Jeongin in candle form

Prince lets out a long, judgmental sigh through his nose. You look at him.

“I know, okay? It’s dumb. But I haven’t made out with anyone in three months and this one promises me to attract a shy hottie and smells like candy!”

Prince gives you the kind of slow blink cats usually do when they’re plotting murder. Then, to make his opinion perfectly clear, he dramatically gets up from your lap, trots over to the corner, and purposefully pees on your favorite fuzzy slipper.

You gasp, “Prince!”

He makes unbroken eye contact the entire time.

Later, as you clean up the disaster, you whisper, “Too bad. Candle’s already on its way”

He barks once in protest or even jealousy. But at this point, that candle is probably your best shot

•°. *࿐

It arrives in a suspiciously pink box.

You're in your pajamas, a messy bun on your head. Prince circles your feet with low grumbles, like he can already see the disaster.

Inside there's bubble wrap, glitter confetti, and a folded card that says:

💘 "For lonely hearts and delusional fools. Good luck, sweetheart" 💘

You blink at it.

Beneath the card sits the candle— chubby, bear shaped, glossy, and pink. You lift it and immediately get hit with the fruity punch of grapefruit and sugar scent. Prince snorts, clearly not liking it. 

You're gonna light it up anyway.

When the match strikes, the wick catches instantly. The flame flares pink, then settles into a low glow.

You whisper, “This is ridiculous”

The candle crackles, like it has something to say about your skepticism.

You sit with it for ten minutes but nothing happens. No naked boys materialize from the void, no romance falls from the ceiling. Just pink light and an increasingly suspicious scent clouding your tiny apartment.

You blow it out.

That night, you dream of dimples and gentle hands that hold you tightly against a solid chest 

•°. *࿐

You sit in your microbiology lecture the next day, twirling your pen, trying to forget the cursed candle and your pissy poodle.

Someone slides into the seat beside you.

“Hey”, says a soft voice.

You turn and there he is— Jeongin. Oversized hoodie, sleepy eyes, and the kind of lazy smile that makes your heart twitch like you’re allergic to calm.

“Hey”, you say trying to pretend you didn’t light up a magic candle to him last night.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Hum… so, exams are coming and I’m, like, failing bacteria”

You blink, “You mean microbiology?”

“Yeah, that. Can you maybe help me? Study, I mean?”

You stare at him. His lips curl up. Dimples. Soft. Boyish smirk. Your brain almost short circuit immediately.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You lit the candle and Jeongin just asked to spend time with you. To study ‘bacteria’. Romance is dead, but of course you want to spend hours talking about bacterial structure and infections with this man.

“Yeah, okay!”, you say, “When do you wanna start?”

“Tonight? If you’re free?”

You swallow, “Yeah, totally. My place?”

“Sure”

“Great, I text you the address”

“Cool”

He winks before he leaves, leaving you completely breathless

•°. *࿐

The books are closed. The last flashcard is discarded  between pizza boxes and your empty soda cans. You're both sitting on your bed after hours of bacterial cell walls. Close. Way too close. Jeongin’s hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he keeps watching you. The kind of look that could knock the air out of your lungs if you let it.

“I think I get it now”, he says, voice a little raspy from talking for so long, “About bacteria. And maybe about... you”

You blink, “Me?”

His hand touches your knee, carefully. You don’t move.

“I thought I was imagining it”, he says, thumb brushing small circles against the fabric of your joggers, “But I don’t think I am”

Your voice is barely a breath, “Imagining what?”

“That you want me to kiss you”

The tension hangs between you. 

“You were never ‘failing bacteria’, were you?”

He smirks, lazily shaking his head as a ‘no’.  You lean forward, hesitantly, but Jeongin doesn’t waste time. His lips catch yours in a kiss that’s hungry from the very first second.

He kisses like he’s been holding back the whole time— deep, slow, full of heat that crawls up your spine and makes your fingers grab his hoodie like you were trying to pull him even closer. If that’s even possible. You feel him shift closer, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel every inch of you.

Your teeth graze, lips part. The sound he makes isn’t soft— it’s needy.

His mouth trails down your jaw, before returning to your lips again— urgent, wet, dizzying. Your heart races, your mind spins as he lays you down.

Jeongin’s hands slide beneath your shirt, and your breath hitches when he mutters something filthy against your skin.

You know you should stop, your dog’s still in the room but you think, “he’s just a dog”, and he’s curled up quietly at the foot of your bed like he always is. Right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Because the second Jeongin shifts above you, one knee nudging between your thighs, hips pressing down to close the space between your bodies— there’s a sudden blur of a bark and a ferocious growl followed by a:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You jolt upright just in time to see your little white poodle, Prince, with his teeth sunken to Jeongin’s ass. His ears are back, eyes wild, tail puffed up like a pissed off cotton ball.

“Prince!!” you shriek, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him, “LET GO!”

“I think he broke skin!”, Jeongin mutters, stumbling off the bed, hand clutching his butt, “Why is your dog like this?!”

“He’s never done this before!”

“Well, and I am not in the mood anymore”

“Jeongin, wait!”

“I call you”, he says as he stumbles to the door with his dignity in ruins, muttering about rabies shots.

The second the door shuts, Prince hops smugly on the bed, circles once, and sits like nothing happened.

You look at him with a piercing gaze 

“Prince” you say slowly, “Did you just bite someone because they were on top of me?”

He snores and then, like he has no shame, he crawls into your lap, lays his head on your chest, and lets out the most satisfied sigh you've ever heard.

•°. *࿐

It’s been three days since Prince ruined your make out session with Jeongin.

You still wake up remembering the look on Jeongin’s face. A little turned on. A lot confused

But life moves on, and so do your dating ambitions.

You’ve just finished vacuuming glitter from Jeongin’s candle out of your rug when your phone buzzes again.

Quokka 🐿️ :

How’s microbiology boy 😏

You: 

He got scared off. Prince bit his vibe off…

… and his perfect ass

Quokka 🐿️ :

LMFAOO

Damn, I hate this dog

Try another candle 😌Rebound power unlockedStop falling for muscle gods.

You roll your eyes and type back, “go away”

Quokka 🐿️: No ❤️ Go to the website Do it for the plot

Get one for a comfort boy.

You stare at the link for a full thirty seconds before clicking it again. 

You scroll past “Short kings”, “Bald and bold” and “Tight gym shorts”

Then you stop.

Because this one. This one is pale yellow, shaped like the Sun with a glistening label that reads:

VALENTINE #15: Sunshine Soulmate

🌞 Smells like honey tea, ginger and laughter 🤗 Notes of chocolate cake, kindness and cinnamon ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Gentle souls who bring you flowers for no reason – People who laugh at your worst jokes – Long nights with deep conversations – Someone who actually listens – Possibly: forehead kisses and hugs that feel like home 🚨 Caution: You may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

You whisper, “That’s… Felix” Felix, your neighbor. The guy who laughs when Prince humps his leg in the elevator, whose voice is deep but still soft as sunrises

You buy it. Heart pounding like a teenager in love.

Prince gives you that slow, side eye as if to say: what’s wrong with you?

•°. *࿐

The evening the candles arrive, you shut your curtains and pull Prince to your lap. You open the box, press your nose into it and inhale. 

You light it.

The flame burns in a gentle yellow, rippling across the living room like sunlight on water.

Prince barks once, looks at you. You wrap him in your arms. He hides his head on your shoulder, tail thumping.

Beside you, the candle crackles in soft tones

“I don’t know why I’m doing this”, you whisper, “Felix is… he’s out there. Probably doing small talk with old ladies at the grocery store line” 

You brush your fingertips along Prince’s fur, “And I’m here wishing he liked me. Not for muscles. Or dangerous smirks. Just… for real, warm, comfortable company”

You laugh weakly, “Instead, I am here like a desperate loser. Stuck on stupid candle magic and a dog who won’t leave my lap”

You blow out the candle and Prince snorts with satisfaction.

You lean your head back and close your eyes wishing it works this time 

•°. *࿐

It’s the day after you lit the candle.

You’re in your apartment, dressed in your emotional support hoodie,  trying to figure out if  cereal counts as dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

Prince immediately loses his entire mind.

You stagger to the door, hair messy, wearing socks that don’t match. You open it to see…

Felix.

Golden hair, oversized cream knit sweater, a smile that curves like a sunrise, freckles scattered on his cheekbones like a constellation. He’s holding a large tupperware container in one hand, and in the other a movie DVD.

You blink, “Hi…”

“Hey”, he grins, “I made cookies. Movie night? You, me, and…”, he peeks over your shoulder, “Prince. If His Royal Highness is free”

Prince wags his tail like he understands what Felix said, then bounces in excitement.

“I, huh…”, you swallow, “That sounds really nice, actually”

Felix’s smile grows, eyes doing that crinkly thing that makes your stomach fold in on itself like origami.

 “Then come over. Comfy clothes are mandatory”

•°. *࿐

You arrive minutes later with Prince and a bag of chips. Felix opens the door and Prince immediately trots in like he owns the place.

You follow after him.

The apartment smells like vanilla, sunshine and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. There are string lights over the couch. A fluffy blanket fort in the corner. The screen is already paused on the movie menu.

“You seriously still use DVDs?”, you ask.

Felix shrugs, “They’re nostalgic”

He hands you a cookie and gestures for you to sit. Prince climbs onto the couch like he pays rent and plops between you and Felix. 

You roll your eyes, “Prince, really?”

Felix just laughs, “It’s okay. He’s protecting his princess”

You choke on a cookie crumb.

Felix chuckle— warm and contagious. He pats the couch beside him, “Come on. I won’t bite”

You settle in, shoulder brushing him. Prince lets out a grumble, but accepts his fate. 

As the movie plays, you pretend to focus. Felix smells like clean laundry and he keeps laughing at all the dumb lines, and every time, your head turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet

Halfway through, your fingers brush while reaching for the same chip. Neither of you pulls away. He glances at you. You glance at him and the tension grows heavier

“You’re warm”, Felix says, soft like the rain outside 

You whisper, “So are you”

And then, very gently, his fingers lace in yours.

Prince snorts loudly and ruins the moment, of course, but Felix just grins and presses his shoulder into yours. He’s warm and sweet, and you feel like the candle was right: you may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

Even better? Prince is behaving.

Not just behaving like sitting quietly, he's actually snuggled against Felix’s side, tiny chin resting on Felix’s thigh, tail wagging lazily every time Felix absentmindedly scratches his fluffy fur

You almost tear up from the relief.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, “He likes you”

Felix grins, flashing that sunshine smile, “He’s adorable. So chill. I thought he didn't like me”

You look at Prince, who blinks innocently at you, “Yeah, me too…”

You start to relax. Maybe this time it’s different. Maybe Prince has matured, maybe he has accepted he can’t be your only source of affection forever. 

When the screen goes dark and Felix kisses your cheek, thanking you for coming, and walks you both to the door. You feel suspiciously hopeful.

Until twenty minutes later.

Your phone buzzes.

Felix 🌞:

So…

Not to be weird but….

 I think Prince left me a present

In my gym bag

Like a solid one

Like a Number Two  

Your jaw drops.

You:

OH MY GOD FELIX I’M SO SORRY!!! Please say you didn’t put your hand in there

Felix 🌞: 

I didn’t But he looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE before you guys left I thought it was affection It was a threat

You sprint to your room and throw open the door. Prince is stretched luxuriously across your bed, tiny paws crossed, eyes closed like a cat sunbathing.

You whisper, horrified, “You pooped in his bag”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?! You liked him!”

He opens one eye, blinks, yawns and turns away.

Yeah, you probably will die single because of him.

•°. *࿐

It’s been four days since the incident with Felix

You’ve blocked the memory of his hands on your waist and the sound of his laugh as the movie played. You’ve told Han you’re not buying another candle. He insisted anyway

Quokka 🐿️: Girl they have one called “Moonstruck” 

That shit it’s POWERFUL

You roll your eyes so hard you almost pull something. But later that night, curiosity wins. Again. As always. You find yourself scrolling through Get lit, Get laid, one leg on the heater with Prince drooling on your thigh.

You scroll until you see it.

VALENTINE #20: Moonstruck 

🕯️ Smells like lavender, rosemary, paint, and quiet mornings 🎨 Notes of melancholy, watermelon and pink glitter ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Artists who see the world sideways – People who cry at concerts – Loud laughter in silent rooms – Boys who write you poems – Possibly: a guy who really loves you, kinda needy and clingy 🚨 Warning: lighting may cause a sudden urge to talk to the moon

You frown. There’s no face you associate with it. No crush. No worthy idiot.

Just... an unexplainable certainty that you should buy that damn candle..

•°. *࿐

The candle arrives three days later in a box that smells like moon dust.

You light it that night. It flickers purple and gold

Prince hops on the couch, circles a free time, and flops dramatically into your lap with a grunt. You stroke behind his head as you whisper, “You realize this is your fault, right?”

Prince snorts.

“No, seriously. I used to be fine. I had a relationship. An almost stable emotional state. A carpet without candle dust”

He yawns, jaw cracking.

You sigh, laying your head back, candlelight dancing across the ceiling.

“You’re the one who scared my dates away. You. A chaotic dog with judgmental eyebrows and a spirit full of vengeance”

Prince blinks, like he was waiting for you to finish your dramatic monologue

“I’m going to die alone,” you say gently, cupping his face. “Just you and me, buddy. And someday you’ll bury me in someone’s backyard next to your long lost squeaky bones”

Then he licks your nose. You laugh softly, burying your face in his fur. 

The candle flickers. Something in the room shifts. Not loud. Not bright. Just a breath of something different.

You fall asleep on the couch like that.

Prince curled at your side. Candle burning low. Dreams thick and golden behind your eyelids.

As you sleep, a shape stirs on the floor.

But you don’t notice 

Yet.

•°. *࿐

You wake up with a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Not the clatter of paws on tile. No collar jingling. No soft whimper.

A human noise.

You sit up, disoriented. The candle’s completely burned down. Your phone says it’s 3:42 am.

You grab a blanket and tiptoe into the hall.

“Prince?” you whisper, heart hammering.

Then you see him.

A tall, completely naked man rifling through your fridge like he lives there.

His back is to you at first, but then he turns, very casually, sipping from your carton of chocolate milk with a smile like this is the best day of his life

You scream.

He drops the milk.

“WHAT THE FU… WHO THE HELL… WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

 “You asked that candle to bring you someone who really loved you. So… surprise?”

You take a full five seconds to connect the dots. The familiar shape of his lips. The floppy hair. The weird sparkle in his eyes that you always said made him look like he knew your secrets.

“…Prince?” you whisper again, backing into the wall.

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Technically, I’m Hyunjin. But yeah. You kinda wished I turned into a human”

You stare at him. “You were a dog…”

“Your dog” he says, stepping closer, still naked, “And now I’m something even better”

“Why are you still naked?!”

“Because pants weren’t part of the wish, obviously"

You’re still in shock. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out as you try not to stare at the way he’s standing there like he isn’t naked while drinking choco milk in your kitchen.

Hyunjin takes one last unapologetic sip straight from the nearly empty carton. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he just finished a fine bottle of wine.

“You’re gonna need to buy more of this, by the way”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shakes the carton, upside down, “It’s gone. Like. All of it. I was thirsty” 

Then, thoughtfully, he concludes, “I think it’s my favorite thing about being human so far”

“You…” You gesture wildly at the mess of milk dribbled on his chin, the open fridge door, the nudity.

“You drank my entire carton of chocolate milk naked at 4am?!”

“And it was amazing” he says, eyes twinkling, “but also kinda sad, because now there’s none left. So... maybe write it on a list or something?”

You inhale. Exhale. Pinch the bridge of your nose, “You are literally a magical dog who turned into a man because I lit a cursed Valentine’s candle. And your priority is…”

“Chocolate milk”, he finishes happily,  “And pants. Eventually”

You sigh so hard your soul leaves your body for a second, “I need to go lie down”

“Bring me a glass of water?” he calls after you. “I think I’m still a little thirsty”

You just ignore him.

•°. *࿐

You wake up hours later, head pounding.

For a minute, it’s peaceful. 

Maybe it was a dream. A fever dream. The wine, the candle, the stupid wish— maybe it all blurred together and created the world's most chaotic hallucination.

Then you hear it— a soft hum coming from your bathroom followed by a voice calling out sweetly

 “Ynnie… I’m ready!”

You stumble  to the bathroom, push the door open and immediately regret it.

Hyunjin is standing in the tub, completely naked again. Hair fluffed, cheeks glowing, a towel barely draped over one shoulder

“Took you long enough, lady”

“What… are you doing?”

He blinks, all innocent, “Waiting for you to wash me”

Your brain malfunctions, “I… what?! You’re a man now! Wash your own damn self!”

“But you always bathed me”, he tilts his head, lips curling into a pout so automatic that it has to be a leftover reflex from puppyhood.

 “You use that nice strawberry shampoo. You talk to me while you scrub behind my ears. And you give me a towel hat after”

You gape at him, “Hyunjin”

“I even set everything up!” he says proudly, gesturing to the row of bath products you specifically use for your spa days, “I want bubbles. And the scalp massage thing you do with your nails”

He pauses, grinning wider.

“I’ll wag my tail if it helps convince you”

You slam the door in his face and shout through it,  “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCHING MY EXPENSIVE MASK”

From inside, he calls back sweetly, “You’re still gonna brush my hair after, right?”

You groan, “I regret meeting Han in the first place”

You press your forehead to the bathroom door and sigh like you’re in a tragic k-drama.

“No”, you mutter to yourself, “You are not giving in. You’re not brushing his hair. You are not washing a grown man in your tub just because he used to be a poodle”

And then, the door creaks open.

He pokes his head out. Hair dripping, wet strands falling over his flushed face. And his eyes— those big, dark, round eyes— look up at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“Yn…”

You swallow hard 

“I don’t know how to rinse the bubbles out without stinging my eyes…”, he says softly, pouting already, “You always helped me…”

You blink, “Hyunjin, you're literally 1,80 now”

He nods, “And helpless”

You try to hold back. You really do but then he whines— a soft, high pitched whine— and tilts his head the exact same way he did back when he wore a collar instead of a smirk.

 That’s the end of you.

You sigh and push the door open wider, “Move over, prince of manipulation”

His face lights up like you just gave him a treat.

You kneel by the tub, grabbing the showerhead and your strawberry shampoo, muttering under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

He leans forward immediately, elbows on the edge, chin in his palms, a grin curling his lips, “You love it”

You glare at him.

He sticks out his tongue.

You dump water over his head.

Then you reach for the conditioner, “You're lucky you're pretty”

He grins, “I am, huh?”

You gently work the conditioner into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. He melts instantly. He closes his eyes and lets a pleased little sound slip out of his throat, one that makes your chest tighten.

“I used to love when you did this”, he says, “Even when I was just… Prince”

You blink, “Yeah?”

He hums, “You were always so gentle. Careful. Like I wasn’t just a dog”

You pause, hands still in his hair, “You weren’t just a dog to me. You were like my best friend. Even when you acted bitchy”

That makes his lips part slightly, eyes opening to find yours.

He sits up just a little, water dripping down his chest, “You know what I didn’t like?” he says after a moment, more serious now.

You wait.

“When strangers touched me. Like, on walks. People always think dogs want to be pet, but sometimes I hated it. I only liked it when you did it”

Your heart thumps once, sharp and loud.

“I hated the vet”,  he continues, “and when you left the house for too long. I hated when you cried and I couldn’t do anything but nudge your hand with my nose”

You look down, “You always stayed beside me, though”

“I couldn’t not. You are the person I love the most”,  he says, voice catching a little with the weight of that truth. “Even then, you were mine”

The bathroom fills with soft steam and silence. You rinse the last of the conditioner from his hair, fingers lingering just a little too long at the nape of his neck.

When you look at him again, he’s staring at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Something human, vulnerable

“Do you still want me?”, he asks, voice quiet, unsure for the first time.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach for a towel, help him sit up, and whisper

“Let’s get you dry first, Prince”

•°. *࿐

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your fridge door slamming and a tragic gasp.

You stumble into the kitchen to find Hyunjin— still only in one of your oversized hoodies, hair a fluffy mess— standing barefoot and betrayed.

He turns, horrified. “You didn’t get more chocolate milk”

You blink. “Good morning to you too”

“I dreamed about it last night”, he whines, “I woke up tasting it. You promised me”

And like a fool, you drag yourself the shopping mall looking like a tired single parent and return with two gallons of chocolate milk, a new phone with a pink glitter case, a comfy set of sweatpants and sweatshirts, socks with little chocolate milk cartons on them and in exchange, you got a custom contact in your phone saved as:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑

By noon, he’s curled up on your couch, sipping from a bendy straw, scrolling through his phone while making soft noises every time he finds an emoji he likes. 

“Why does this one look like you??”, he says, holding up 🐸

You finally stand in front of the hallway mirror, curling your lashes and adjusting your dress.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks casually, mouth full of banana bread you didn’t even see him open.

“Out” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“To see another man?”, his tone is suddenly more icy.

You sigh, “It’s just a date, Hyunjin. You’re fine. You’ve got snacks, Netflix, a phone…”

“You’re leaving me alone on my second real day as a human?”

“You spent all morning watching dance compilations on TikTok. I think you’ll survive”

He narrows his eyes, “I bet he's not even that cute”

You grab your bag and keys, “Stop being jealous”

“You’re being reckless!”, he shoots back, arms crossed,  “You just got new clothes and now you’re going to let some muscle boy take them off you?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to!” he says. “I know you. And I know you like when someone is clingy and follows you around the house and licks your cheek to make you laugh”

“HYUNJIN”

“What? Too honest?”

You point to the couch, “Stay here. Don’t pee on anything. Don’t text my friends. And don’t sabotage this date, it's my last chance”

He sulks dramatically, curling up like a cat, muttering, “I hope he's allergic to fur”

You leave anyway.

But as you wait for your Uber, your phone buzzes.

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Fine. Go. But I hope his hugs aren’t as warm as mine Also we’re out of Nutella Also I miss you

You roll your eyes, ignore him and tell yourself, “Just one more date”

But you already know Prince is going to ruin it somehow

•°. *࿐

You were watching a movie at Changbin’s place— just the two of you, a blanket, snacks, and something cheesy playing in the background. He’s got one arm slung casually around your shoulder, his body warm and solid beside yours. You’re relaxed, comfortable, almost sleepy.

Until your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Changbin glances down first, just instinct. He's in the middle of reaching popcorn, and the screen lights up so bright it catches his eye.

Immediately, he frowns

“Hum… who’s Prince Hyunjin?”

Your blood runs cold. You reach for the phone but it’s too late.

He reads the preview out loud:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Baby, I want to taste you so bad I'm losing my mind. 

Come home and let me be on my knees for you.

The air goes thick.

“Changbin, wait… I can explain…”

“You have a boyfriend named Prince Hyunjin?!”

“He’s not… he wasn’t… he used to be my dog!”

Changbin blinks, “That’s… somehow worse?”

You bury your face in your hands, “He was a poodle, okay? A fluffy little spoiled brat named Prince. But then one day he… he just turned into a human, and now he thinks he owns me”

Changbin just stares at you, “You’re telling me your ex poodle is now sexting you and calling himself Prince Hyunjin?”

“You think I’d make that up?!”

You phone buzz one more time

💗 Prince Hyunjin ���� Tell this dude you’re with to keep his hands off you unless he wants to lose them

Your thighs are mine.

Changbin slowly stands up, hands in the air like he’s surrendering to your craziness, “You should… just go. Before I get bitten. Or murdered by your shapeshifting, possessive ex dog”

“Bin, please, you have to believe me…”

He backs away toward the door, voice full of sarcasm, “No, no. It’s fine. I just need some time to… process”

He opens the door. And you can’t do anything but grab your purse and leave,

“I… call you?”, you try one last time

“Nah, you don't have to. Bye”

And then, he shuts the door on your face

You sigh and presses your forehead against the cold wall, picking up your phone 

You:

HYUNJIN. 

WHAT DID YOU DO???

He replies immediately:

I always get what I want

•°. *࿐

Your place is quiet when you enter. A low hum comes from the TV still on, playing some cartoon.

And on the couch, curled up sideways, limbs long and tangled, face buried in the cushions— is him.

Hyunjin.

He’s in your favorite hoodie. The one you wear when you’re sad or sick or just need to feel safe. It swallows him, sleeves bunched at the wrists, the hem covering his hips where his bare legs stretch out toward your coffee table.

One hand clutches the sleeve. The other clutches an empty spot on the couch like he reached for you in his sleep.

You stand there for a moment, just watching the ridiculous boy who used to bark at your guests now dreaming under the colorful lights of Adventure Time.

He shifts in his sleep and murmurs your name, crackling your chest open. You walk over, slowly, and crouch beside him, gently stroking back his hair.

"Yn…?" he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Yeah”, you whisper back.

He blinks once, then opens his eyes.

“Did he kiss you?”, he asks quietly, voice hoarse from sleep

“No”

“Good”, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, “I wore your hoodie so you’d think of me”

“How could I forget you, my prince?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your fingers, “Then stay here with me. Forever”

You nod, and curl onto the couch with him. His arms find your waist instantly, nose pressing to your neck. Right there in his arms, the weight of another failed date all thanks to Hyunjin’s relentless mischief, seems to fade a little

You sigh deeply, “You know what, Hyunjin? I give up”

He perks up instantly, “Hum?”

“I’m yours” you say, voice soft but firm. “I’ll spend Valentine’s Day alone and it’s your fault for ruining every single date I try to have”

Hyunjin’s little chest puffs out like he’s won the grandest prize. Then, almost immediately, he sulks, lowering his head and giving you a pout that’s impossible to resist.

“Come on… just one kiss. On the lips. You can’t resist me forever”

“Hyunjin”, you say softly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “No. Forehead kiss only”

You lean down and press a warm, tender kiss on his forehead, feeling the soft brush of his hair. He grins so bright that you know you’ll never escape being his, no matter how hard you try.

Before you can pull away, Hyunjin’s hands catch your face, and with a cheeky grin, he steals a bold, lingering kiss on your lips. It’s soft but demanding, warm and possessive all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his grin is pure mischief, “See? Told you I always get what I want”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You’re impossible”

Hyunjin just snuggles closer, tail wagging like he owns your heart. And honestly? He does. 

At the end, maybe all the love you needed was right by your side this whole time.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks and loves notes are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere, @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy, @jeonginsleftcheek, @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world, @hyunles , @lexlikesbts, @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold, @teenagepeterpan, @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

[riddlesrizzler]

This Could’ve Been an Owl

summary: somethings are left better as an owl... characters: jim! mattheo. pam! reader. dwight! draco. stanley! theo. kelly! blaise. andy! enzo warnings: none, just poor draco word count: 1.2k

The meeting was scheduled for 9:00 a.m.

At 9:07, the coffee pot was still sputtering like it was about to explode, Enzo had somehow broken his granola bar into four unequal, crumbling pieces, and Blaise was halfway through a monologue about how the new client’s assistant looked “mysteriously like a cursed Siren” and “definitely blinked sideways.” No one was listening. Except Theo, who stared blankly into his mug like it might transport him somewhere else.

You sat near the end of the conference table, doodling in the margins of the meeting agenda you had printed yourself - not because you cared, but because you were the only person who Draco didn’t openly accuse of being a spy. Your latest sketch was of a dragon incinerating a tiny stick figure labeled “Draco.” It was breathing glitter fire. You smirked and tilted the page slightly so Mattheo could see it.

He bit back a laugh - that sharp, breathless sort of grin he always wore when the two of you were silently conspiring. He leaned back in his chair, his quill spinning between his fingers. Cool. Careless. Definitely about to do something stupid.

Draco cleared his throat for the third time.

“Right,” he snapped, slapping a clipboard down with unnecessary force. “Now that we’ve all decided to grace the office with our presence-”

“I’ve been here since eight,” you said sweetly, not looking up from your doodle.

Mattheo coughed to cover his snort.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “-we can finally begin. Item one: someone - and I will find out who - placed an undetectable expansion charm on my filing cabinet. When I opened it, I was temporarily sucked into a dimension of-of-clowns.”

There was a long pause.

“Sounds like a personnel issue,” Theo muttered, deadpan.

Mattheo raised a hand. “Did you happen to see your performance review while you were in there?”

Blaise burst out laughing. Even Enzo wheezed around a mouthful of granola.

You smiled, pressing your hand to your mouth like it might muffle the giggle clawing its way out. Mattheo gave you a sidelong glance, and the shared triumph of this is going well passed silently between you.

Draco did not share that sentiment.

“I am compiling a list,” he said darkly, flipping to a page titled Suspected Troublemakers in aggressive block letters. “It will be submitted to upper management by end of day.”

Mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Is that the same list where you put ‘Suspicious Soup Behavior’ next to Enzo’s name?”

“I knew that bisque was cursed,” Draco barked.

“It was from the breakroom,” Enzo offered helpfully. “Pretty sure it was labeled ‘Mattheo’s.’”

Mattheo blinked. “I don’t even eat soup.”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching all of this unfold with mild amusement. Honestly, Draco brought it on himself. He held these meetings like they were Auror interrogations, and somehow always ended up the victim of some minor magical sabotage. The fact that he hadn’t yet realized it was a two-person operation - orchestrated mostly from your desk and carried out with Mattheo’s charming recklessness - was a miracle.

Draco slammed his clipboard shut. “Enough. Item two: The break room incident-”

“Which one?” Blaise asked. “The cauldron explosion? Or the time the enchanted toaster tried to duel me?”

“The glitter bomb hidden in my teacup,” Draco hissed. “I’m still sneezing sparkles.”

Mattheo tilted his head innocently. “Are you sure it wasn’t your personality finally showing?”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that slipped out - sharp and warm and completely unprofessional. Draco turned his glare on you.

“Don’t look at me,” you said, shrugging. “I only printed the meeting agenda. Which, by the way, doesn’t say anything about glitter bombs.”

Enzo tried to raise a hand. “I kind of liked it. You looked festive.”

Draco muttered something about incompetence and stormed toward the whiteboard, where he began drawing a complex diagram titled “Office Sabotage Network.” He included tiny, cartoonish caricatures of everyone at the table - yours had a halo. Mattheo’s had devil horns. Blaise’s was winking.

You leaned sideways, whispering to Mattheo behind your hand, “Do you think he’ll realize the glitter was charmed to explode with sound if he yells?”

Mattheo grinned at you, wide and gleaming. “Ten galleons says he finds out in the next sixty seconds.”

As if on cue, Draco turned around. “Now-listen carefully-”

BANG.

A shimmering cloud of pink and gold exploded over his head, raining glitter down on the table in elegant, sparkling sheets. Draco shrieked. Blaise screamed in solidarity. Enzo applauded.

Mattheo casually dusted off his lapels and looked over at you like nothing happened.

You smiled at him - that slow, knowing smile that said, We’re the best team this office has ever seen.

Across the room, Theo sipped his coffee, nodded, and muttered, “Finally. Some entertainment.”

It was the next day, the morning after the glitter bomb incident, when Draco Malfoy arrived precisely thirty-seven minutes early.

He was wearing tinted goggles. His wand was gripped like a sword. His cloak had been replaced with what looked suspiciously like a dragonhide apron, and he muttered under his breath as he tiptoed through the office, checking doorknobs and breathing heavily through his nose.

You watched him from behind the reception desk, sipping your tea.

“Do we think he’s… okay?” you asked no one in particular.

Mattheo leaned his elbows on the counter, hair messy from the wind and lips curved in that familiar, conspiratorial grin. “He’s fine. He’s just been... glitter-traumatized.”

“Is that a real condition?” you asked.

Mattheo’s voice dropped a notch as he leaned a little closer. “Want to help me find out?”

You gave him a sideways glance, pretending your heart didn’t trip over itself. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re asking me to commit a crime before noon.”

He smirked, tapping the countertop between you with his finger. “Come on, receptionist. Live a little.”

Before you could answer, Enzo appeared, holding a suspiciously oversized croissant and wearing the expression of a man who knew far too much.

“Just to be clear,” he said, mouth full, “are we all pretending that you two aren’t in love, or…?”

You choked on your tea. Mattheo turned and gave him a long, slow blink. “Do you ever start a conversation normally?”

Enzo held up his hands. “I’m just saying - if I had someone looking at me like that every morning, I’d probably have proposed by now.”

Mattheo glanced at you again. His smile shifted, softened. Less teasing. More real. And for a moment, it felt like something charged and unspoken settled in the space between you - a question neither of you had asked out loud.

But before anything could come of it, a shrill, victorious laugh echoed from down the hallway.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

“...He’s sprung the trap, hasn’t he?” Mattheo asked.

“Definitely,” Enzo said. “And he’s way too smug about it.”

Sure enough, Draco reappeared seconds later, eyes wide with triumph and goggles slightly askew.

“I knew it,” he barked. “Don’t act surprised - I saw the glitter residue. The prank empire ends today.”

“Is that what you named this? A ‘prank empire’?” you asked dryly.

Draco ignored you. “I’ve installed anti-prank wards across the office. Invisible, advanced, and regulated by magical law. Any trickery, and-” He paused, then pulled out a little red orb from his pocket. “This detonates.”

You blinked. “Detonates?”

Blaise, walking in with a latte, frowned. “Like…explodes?”

“No,” Draco sniffed. “It alerts me.”

Mattheo tapped the orb lightly. “So it yells at us?”

Draco bristled. “It’s an alert system!”

“Right,” Mattheo said, turning to you with a glimmer in his eye. “Definitely not a glittery magical snitch.”

Enzo reached for the orb. “If I charm this thing to meow every time it goes off, does that count as sabotage or improvement?”

“Touch it and I hex your eyebrows off,” Draco snapped.

Mattheo, still watching you, leaned in close enough for your shoulders to brush. “Let me guess,” he murmured, voice low and sweet, “you’ve got a better plan already.”

Your cheeks warmed. “You think I don’t?”

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second too long. “The real question is… do I get to help?”

Your breath caught slightly. The way he looked at you - like he already knew the answer - made it hard to remember why you hadn’t crossed that line yet.

Thankfully - or unfortunately - Enzo spoke up.

“Or,” he said casually, “you two could just go on a date already and stop setting the building on fire with your eye contact.”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch. He just turned back to him, still smiling. “What do you think the glitter bombs were? Foreplay?”

Draco sputtered.

Blaise nearly dropped his latte.

You blinked at Mattheo, somewhere between mortified and impressed.

He arched a brow at you. “Too much?”

You shook your head slowly. “Only slightly.”

There was a pause, and then-

BANG.

The red orb Draco had been holding suddenly burst into shimmering purple mist. It clung to him like fog, swirling and hissing, before erupting into a chorus of cats meowing furiously.

Enzo blinked. “Okay, so maybe I touched it a little.”

Draco screamed something about betrayal and stormed out, the orb still meowing behind him like a haunted nursery rhyme.

Mattheo turned to you again, grinning.

“So,” he said. “Lunch break prank planning?”

You smiled, eyes lingering on him longer than you meant to. “Only if you buy me a muffin first.”

He offered you his arm like it was an inside joke. “For you, anything.”

[acexsmhking]

You can't just say dilf Toby and then go about your day. You forgot we all bunch of freak about Toby-

: ̗̀➛ DILF!Toby x Reader

Note: ugh anon you’re so right I’m sorry. Cause even I’ve been scrolling back to my comment thinking about it 😭🤚🏾

Listen listen, Toby a man now. Thirty-one as of Apirl 28. That’s quite old especially for someone who should’ve passed by 29. And gosh does he look it. Every bit of manliness, bit of some boyish charm when he’s with you

But when he comes home? That hard glint in his eyes, folds and wrinkles from frowning and furrowed brows. You’re reminded just how much older than you he is. It makes that gentleness he reserves just for you that much better

And he notices. How sometimes you just rub your thighs looking at him. Maybe play with a few gray hairs that have started coming in. From age and stress.

I wouldn’t say Toby goes out of his way dating someone younger, but seeing how much you enjoy it? He uses it against you whenever he can. The biggest is making the DILF part truly genuine. Knocking you up with a kid.

Maybe after a few old man jokes you start noticing how he stalks you more often. A predatory glint in his eyes. Doesn’t help if he just came back from.. hunting— a family. Tempted to take children’s items now, almost like he’s nesting.

Finally he does snap. You’re between his legs, arms tangled around them as you rest your head suspiciously close to his crotch. Cleaning the metal of his hatchet before he stops and looking down at you. Brushing a few hairs from your face causing you to look up.

“Darlin.” And you’re soaked. Melting really. That husky voice says it so sweetly with all authority it could muster. “Hm?” You’re turning more towards him, one hand resting on his thigh as you let the other grab at his belt. A dorky smile on your lips as you look up at him.

“Been thinkin’.. maybe we should start trying. Genuinely.” Your eyes widen as you look up at him, moving more upright. “Are you.. sure? I mean we’ve talked about this but—” all he does is nod before slowly standing up, helping you along the way as he pulls you in by the waist.

You feel that throb in your cunt as he pulls you in the house, all the way to the bedroom. It isn’t rare that he’s gentle but it is rare he doesn’t just take you wherever you are. “What you wantin’ to do it right?” You snicker, wrapping your arms around his neck. He nods again, already tugging at your skirt.

“It’s going to be a long night, I figured you’d appreciate the comfort.” Hand moving up to hold your hair as he pulls your head back revealing that pretty neck. A twitch in his jaw. “Very long night.”

: ̗̀➛ So sorry I haven’t been actually writing too much y’all. It’s just been difficult I’m not gonna lie. But ugh… Toby is always on my mind.

[annwe24]

SPOILED SUMMER

simon riley x reader

Student life doesn't suit you well. Simon is here to scratch that itch. Not that it helps.

cw: eating disorder (very little), age gap, mention of stalking, excuse my bad english :(

You are a darling. 

Not the kind that makes heads sway nor have your name on top of the class list. The kind that gives back spotless reports every month to your parents, good enough to make decent friends, never goes past your curfew, head down, silent. 

But not silent enough.

Your mother doesn’t know her sweet fawn curses and thrashes, items haphazardly thrown in a fit of anger, the secretive jerk of the hand, nails digging painfully when your father tells your mother to wash the dish, iron his shirt. A poor attempt to drown the repressed rage. Itching and suffocating. That is where the problem lies: too much trust. So much so that when she sent you off to half a country away, all sad and wrinkled smile, the only reminder you got was to get enough rest and call the family back.

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Ultimately, you’ve reached a point in your life that you have to ask: “Is this how I live the rest of my life?” One meal a day, never slack off in class, never bother to drink. Clutching the dress in your hand, voices overlapping one another in your head, telling you to get past it, do something for once good grief. The dam finally broke. With a heavy heart and makeup, that night, you finally end up in a corner of a dingy bar with your friends, hyper aware of how tight your grip is on the glass, almost as tight as your smile, praying tomorrow you won’t wake up to a strange bed and an equally strange face when the alcohol does its thing. After all, your parents and you didn’t work hard to finally earn that scholarship, flew half the world away, only for you to hit different kinds of low. 

Well, shit.

The only thing that you manage to learn and memorise real good after half a year away from home is how good it feels to have big burly arms wrapped around your waist, puffs of hot breathes on your neck, the satisfying scratch of stubble on the side of your cheek, never this gentle, never this bare. You should be freaking out, make a call, speed away. Instead, you find yourself sinking deeper to the pillows beneath, digging your cold toes into his warm thighs and biting the inside of your lips. Silent. You feel like if he wakes up, somehow, the very bed you are on would dissipate and you’re back to your cramped bedroom, a rude and blunt end of a dream. 

Eventually, he does wake up. The only way you know that is because of the rumble of his chest on your back followed by a guttural grunt into your neck like a bear getting up from hibernation, and you still refuse to look at him, acknowledge your own doing. Contrary to your belief, the bed did not collapse. All you get is this confusingly long stare of his boring into your face before finally muttering a “mornin ’.” and disappearing into the bathroom. The nonchalance of it all is eating at you alive. It comes as natural as waking up to your husband and not this military guy you were too eager to trail your hands over his tattooed biceps last night in a hot stuffy bar.

Too eager, both of you.

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“What else did he say?”

You frustratingly press the phone closer to your ear if that is even possible by now. The cooling fan did little to sooth the humid summer heat. 

“Nothing much. Kept askin’ for your number.”

You only answer with a thoughtful hum, pretending to be unaffected when there’s nothing you want to do more than right now is to shove your damn address into his old phone. Poor thing. You wonder if his contact list is long enough to make a swipe down, how your name would look like written in it. Would he stay up at night, in his bed, exhausted after work, trying to fight off sleep and typing in your name on a random app, hopefully catching a glimpse of the forbidden fruit. Down bad like how you like it. 

“Think you’ll come see him after summer break?”

There it is. The question you have been asking yourself even when stepping into the airport. Toss a bone and run maybe.

“You think I should?”

“Honestly, I was about to pity the guy whenever I went there for a drink. He always asks the same thing. Phone number, which university, stuff like that.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so worked up that morning, you would have noticed the empty paper coffee cup from the shop you work part-time perched proudly on the coffee table. 

[toweringclam]

Who is Kris? pt 1: Kris the Vessel

It was the chocolate that sent me spiraling. I know Kris loves chocolate. Everyone talks about how much Kris loves chocolate. Chocolate items heal them more. Kris has plenty of opportunities to consume chocolate. But according to the quiz show, Kris does not like chocolate.

So that made me think... who really is "Kris"? What defines them? How can we separate what Kris wants from what we want? And if there's a third party involved in this, where can we draw that line?

Let's start with the physical. There's a strange misconception that Kris is this world's version of Chara, when that is blatantly incorrect on its face. You can confirm that just by looking at Kris in comparison to the Fallen Children's sprites.

Although their palettes are slightly different, Kris and Frisk still use shades of vibrant gold for their skin and dark brown for their hair. Chara has reddish brown hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks. Sometimes people cite their clothing color but like... people can change clothes?? Also, that's more a case of similar circumstances. Both of them are wearing hand-me-downs from Asriel.

There's also the issue of the eyes. A lot of fans assume that Chara has red eyes, but that actually doesn't play out in the evidence. I mean, I think it's cooler and HC it that way, but I have to set my preference aside to deal with the facts. The thing is, Frisk never opens their eyes in-game. The only time they ever do is in the corrupted pacifist run, which is where we get to see the red eyes often associated with Chara. Yet every other time Chara appears, even at the end of a Genocide run, even when trying to jumpscare us, they have brown eyes. Therefore, Kris's red eyes are not a trait from Chara, but rather something Frisk had the whole time.

We can conclude then that on a purely physical level, Kris is this world's version of Frisk.

Continuing the idea that Kris and Frisk are alternates of each other, it's notable in Undertale that Frisk has an aversion to chocolate. The only time they ever find chocolate, it never even occurs to them to eat it. Could this be some sort of food sensitivity? If so, that would carry over to Kris as well, and the only times we see Kris eat chocolate, they have some adverse reaction to it.

Throat tightening after drinking cocoa

Getting a stomach ache after eating Alphys's chocolates

Slumping over on the counter after drinking chocolate milk

This doesn't count Dark World food, as it's not actually "real" and therefore wouldn't trigger any sensitivities. But I think there's enough evidence to say that Kris has some sort of sensitivity to chocolate. It's very bad for them, and even hurts them to eat it, but that doesn't necessarily stop them either (like me and cheese).

As a final note, Kris is almost shockingly athletic, both in the real world and the dark world, possessed or not. They are strong and graceful enough to balance a massive ball of stuff on their head, can slash tires quickly (harder than it sounds), have an insanely accurate throwing arm, and are skilled in several forms of dance. This doesn't resolve who they might be, but it's worth noting as a physical attribute nonetheless.

Edit: one thing I forgot to mention is that Kris's voice is described as deadpan, mumbling, weak, and shaky. When we speak, the voice is much stronger and sounds like a speaker is embedded in their throat. Again, this is something that rules out Chara as their physical vessel. From everything we know, Chara was a very talkative child.

Next: A discussion about Kris's history pre-game.

[oneinnocentprincess]

"I do treat them like people." She said in agreement, something she was passionate about and stood by. "I'm just not...used to things like this. I was hardly ever needed for council meetings back home prior to the engagement...then suddenly I was meeting with them multiple times a day." It was exhausting, she did not understand how he still had energy now after meeting with them.

Eleanor glanced down at her hand, watching his gentle movement on her. The one positive to this all was that it was easy talking to him, that he did not act like other kings she's met in the past. The warnings she's heard from wives, the toll of being a king's wife...none of that really seemed to happen here. She was allowed to be vulnerable around him and tell him her dislikes. "I do not believe my make up being ruined is a good look." She said matter of fact.

"Really?" She lit up at his offer, the concept of bringing something similar to her study at home here did give her a sense of comfort. "Are you sure no one will get upset if I completely gut out a room?" Not everything, but most things would likely need to be taken out of whatever room. The walls would most definitely need to be painted and while the flooring she would prefer to be changed...she could settle with covering in rug designs she's far more familiar with. Already in her head she was mapping out what items would do best in a room like that.

"I still cannot believe that is a thing." Her mind lingered on the concept just because how absurd it sounded to her. She tried to picture last night but then add in the element of an audience. How could anyone do that? "Thank goodness." Eleanor said with a small smile regarding his comment of the banquets.

Oscar listened, his expression steady as she worried aloud about earning the council’s respect. “Authority isn’t about volume,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “I raise my voice in council because half of them are half‑deaf and three‑quarters stubborn, not because it wins loyalty. They’ll respect you because you ask the right questions and treat them like people, not pawns. If anyone needs reminding, that’s my job, not yours.”

At her self‑deprecating crack about “caring makes me cry,” he reached across the small table and brushed a thumb lightly over her wrist. “I’m not lying, Eleanor. Caring is dangerous—for rulers who fake it. When it’s real, people notice. Tears included.” He gave a faint smile. “Besides, the dishevelled look rather suits you; it proves you’re human in a hall full of polished masks.”

He let her reminisce about her old study without interruption, then offered a practical bridge. “Choose a room here and make it yours. We’ll bring in your trunks, your fiction, the little things that smell like home. Call it a study or a refuge—whatever you need. The castle shouldn’t feel borrowed.”

Her horror at the idea of an artist in the bedroom drew a quiet laugh. “Agreed—no audience, no portraits.” He held her gaze, tone still light but sincere. “We keep the doors shut, the ropes optional, and any ‘art’ stays in our heads. Privacy first, curiosity second.” He took a sip of wine, eyes warm over the rim. “As for banquets, we’ll survive them together—and escape early when boredom strikes.”

[morgana-larkin]

I wanted to thank everyone who went to read "Distance" on my patreon! For those of you who haven't and would like to, here's the link ! Anyway, here's the next chapter of Mine! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26

Mine - Part 27

Summary: You celebrate the twin's 3rd birthday and Valentine's Day!

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 5.7K

You and Melissa are on the ground beside the bed, panting. Melissa reaches up and grabs the ends of the blanket and pulls it down to put over you both.

“Wow, it’s been awhile since we’ve had sex that…actively.” Melissa says. You’re on top of her and your head is on her chest.  

“Well I think the kids not being here is helping.” You tell her and she chuckles. “Speaking of which, we should go get them.” You add and she looks at the time.

“5 more minutes.” She says and wraps her arms around you, tightly.

You’re both on your way to get the kids as you’re on your phone, looking at something. At a red light she looks over and sees you’re looking at something on Amazon.

“What are you looking at?” She asks and you scroll up and show her.

“This. It’s called a swivel chair and it helps kids with autism. I was thinking of getting it for Caty for her birthday. And then a little guitar for Nico.” You tell her and she nods.

“Ya, that sounds good.” She says and you add both items to the cart.

“By the way, how did we end up on the floor while having sex?” You ask her and she laughs.

“I rolled the wrong way when I tried to get on top.” She explains and you laugh.

“That’s what you were trying to do?”

“Shut up.” She says with a smile.

You both get to the daycare and you walk into the baby room and see Bella and Mia there. You see Bella playing with blocks and Mia on her tummy. You pick up the twins and place them in the stroller as Melissa talks with the supervisor. You both then go to the toddler room and see Nico and Caty playing with a dollhouse together.

“Hey Dolcezza and Ometto.” Melissa says and they both look up and see both of you there.

“Mamma!” Nico exclaims as he goes to run to her.

“Mommy.” Caty says as she runs to you.

“How was your day?” Melissa asks them both.

“It was fun.” Nico says with a smile and she smiles at him.

“Well that’s great. What about you Dolcezza?” She asks Caty.

“Ya, fun.” She agrees and Melissa smiles at her as well. You then go to the kiddie room and see Amelia there, sitting in a chair with a pout.

“Hey Tesoro, what’s wrong?” Melissa asks her and Amelia looks up and crosses her arms.

“You always pick me up before the big handle on the clock is on the 6 and the small handle is on the 3. The big handle is on the 1 and the big one is on the 4 which means you’re late.” She complains and Melissa looks at you.

“When the hell did she learn to read a clock?” Melissa whispers to you and you shrug.

“No fucking clue.” You whisper back to her.

“Mommy and I had something to do before picking all of you up, that’s all.” Melissa tells her and Amelia doesn’t believe it. Melissa looks at you and you lean on the stroller handle and gesture to Amelia. You’re putting it on Melissa as it was her idea to have sex before picking the kids up, although you agreed right away. “How about we make it up to you by watching whatever you want?” Melissa suggests as she bends down to Amelia’s level.

“No, because I’m not 4 years old anymore, why are you late?” Amelia asks and you try not to laugh as she sounds exactly like Melissa.

“I told you, Mommy and I had to do something.” Melissa tells her.

“What did you have to do?” Amelia asks and you know Melissa is at a loss for words.

“We-we, um, had to-had to finish something for work.” Melissa struggled through as she tried to think of something to say. “But we’re here now and we can all go home.” Melissa adds as she gets up and holds out a hand for Amelia. Amelia takes her hand after a few seconds and gets up off the chair. Amelia puts her coat and boots on as Melissa walks up to you. “What are you smirking at?” She asks.

“Nothing, just, she’s more like you everyday.” You tell her.

“You could have helped out, you know.” She says.

“I could have, but watching you fail was much more entertaining.” You say and she playfully shoves you and you laugh. She then traps you between the stroller and her and she puts her hands on the handle.

“Maybe next time when one of the kids is angry then I’ll just watch you deal with it.” She threatens and you quirk an eyebrow.

“That is such an empty threat. We both know that you love helping kids with whatever problem they're experiencing.” 

“I hate it when you’re right.” She says as she pulls back and looks at Amelia putting on her mitts.

You both get home and you put the twins in their high chairs that you recently got them to get them to try food. Melissa comes out with applesauce and gives it to you before she goes to watch the other kids. Melissa looks up when you talk to the girls and sees you give Bella her first bite of food. She sees Bella swallow and then she opens her mouth for more. You give Bella another bite and then you go and give some to Mia. Mia has the same reaction and opens her mouth for more. You hear a couple toys hit the ground hard and look to see Amelia looking angry again.

“No!” Amelia shouts at Melissa before she gets up and sits on the couch with her arms crossed. Melissa sighs before she looks at you. You get her to come over to where you are and you give her the applesauce and spoon. 

“You feed the twins and I’ll try to talk to her.” You say and she nods. 

You get up and go over to the couch. Amelia looks up at you briefly before she goes back to looking out the window from the couch. You sit down beside her and have your body facing towards her. 

“Sweetheart, what are you really angry about?” You ask her softly and Amelia sighs and doesn’t respond. “If you’re not angry at something then maybe you’re more upset about something.” You try a different approach. 

“You were both late.” Amelia mutters out. 

“We were. And how do you feel about that?” You ask her and she looks at you. 

“How late were you?” She then asks.

“About 40 minutes.” You answer honestly.

“I didn’t know where you were or if you were going to come and get me.” She tells you and then looks at her hands. 

“Did you think that we forgot about you?” You ask and she looks at you and you see her eyes get watery. All she does and nods and you reach out and grab one of her hands. “Sweetheart, we will never ever forget about you or your siblings.” You tell her as you rub her hand. “Sometimes Mamma and I will be late but we will always remember to come and get you and your siblings.” You say and you see a couple tears roll down her cheeks. “Come here.” You say and you have your arms out. 

Amelia crawls on your lap and you hug her as more tears roll down her face. Melissa looks at you two in that moment and she has her mouth open in shock as she hates when one of her kids cries. After the girls finish eating, Melissa puts them in their new playpen and then she goes over to you two on the couch. Amelia already finished crying at that point and just has her head on your chest, over your heart. 

“Wanna tell Mamma what you told me?” You ask Amelia and you feel her wipe her tears away. She stays curled up on you and you have your arms around her for comfort. 

“I thought that maybe you both forgot about me.” Amelia says softly and you see Melissa’s entire face change from neutral to guilt very quickly. 

“Tesoro, we’d never forget about you.” Melissa tells her. 

“But I thought you did. I didn’t know where you were.” Amelia says. 

“Ok that’s fair. How about when we know we’re going to be late, we’ll call the daycare or the pre-k place and tell them to tell you that we’ll be late.” Melissa suggests and Amelia thinks about it.

“I like that idea.” She says. 

“Although you’ll be going to Abbott with us in September anyway, so we’ll be in the same building as you.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“I’ll be with you and Mamma all day?” She asks.

“Not specifically with us but in the same building.” You say. “You’ll be in aunt Barb’s class in September.” You tell her and she smiles. 

At night you end up pining Melissa against the sink counter and she looks at you in shock and confusion.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“I want to tell you that you shouldn’t feel guilty about what Amelia thought.” You tell her sternly and she looks down. 

“It was my idea to go home and have sex before getting the kids and the entire time she thought we forgot about her.” Melissa says and you cup her cheeks. 

“It’s not your fault, we didn’t know she’d think that or that she figured out with the clock when we pick her up.” You say and she nods. 

“I still feel bad.” She tells you and you put your hand over her heart. 

“And I love that you care so much about your family, it’s one of the reasons I love you so much.” You say and you see her blush. “Never change.” You tell her and she smiles. 

“I don’t plan to.” She simply says and then kisses you. “By the way it looks like getting Caty a heavier blanket is working as she hasn’t slept with us in a week.” She says and you nod. 

“Well I read that a weighted blanket works for autistic kids but can’t really get that for a 3 year old so I thought a heavier blanket might work.” You tell her. 

“Let’s get some sleep.” She says and you nod as you both go to bed. 

*2 weeks later, February 4*

“And cake is ready.” Melissa says as she takes it out of the oven. 

“Do we add the icing now?” Amelia asks as she goes on the stool and looks at the cake.

“Not yet, we have to wait for it to cool down as it can fall apart if we do it right now.” Melissa explains. 

Upstairs you finish tying a bow perfectly on Caty’s head. You have just enough time to take a picture before she grabs the bow and takes it off.

“Seriously? You had to wait to do that when I did it perfectly?” You ask her. 

A few minutes later you come downstairs with the twins all dressed up just as Melissa comes out of the kitchen with some snacks with Amelia. You look at the playpen and see the two girls are in there playing with some toys. 

“Did she not keep the bow on?” Melissa asks you and you shake your head.

“She waited until I did it perfectly on the fifth try and then she threw it off.” You tell her and she laughs. 

“Well at least she likes the blue shirt with the pretty pink flowers on it.” Melissa says as she bends down to look at Caty’s new shirt. 

“Do you like it Mamma?” Caty asks and Melissa nods with a smile.

“What about my shirt, Mamma?” Nico asks and Melissa looks at his outfit. She sees you dressed in a nice looking dark blue shirt and black dress pants. “Mommy says I look handsome.” 

“Oh you look very handsome, Ometto.” Melissa says and then the doorbell rings.

30 minutes later you see the 2 toddlers playing with Nico, you both decided to invite the 2 kids that you’ve seen Nico play with at daycare frequently. You see Caty is sitting on Melissa’s lap as Melissa talks to your parents. Amelia is talking to Barb, talking about kindergarten while you put the two twin girls in their playpen as you just finished feeding them. You go and sit beside Melissa on the loveseat and Melissa smiles at you quickly before continuing to talk to your parents.

“So you didn’t invite any of your siblings, Melissa?” Your mom asks and Melissa shakes her head.

“We agreed that it would be too many people for Caty.” Melissa tells her.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm her again.” You add and Melissa nods.

“You are both supporting her amazingly. You’re both figuring out what she needs and what helps and doing exactly that.” Your mom tells you both. 

“We’d do anything for our kids.” Melissa says softly before she starts tickling Caty and Caty starts squirming and giggling.

“Ahh! Mamma!” She squeals.

Half an hour later Melissa takes a bite of a chip as she looks at her family. Nico is playing with the 2 toddlers with his toys, Caty is showing her toy to Barb and Gerald, Amelia is talking to the trio about anything that comes to her mind and you’re talking to your parents and her mom.

“No, it’s true, I was able to read 6 words at pre-k this week.” Amelia tells the trio and they all gasp.

“No way, what words?” Jacob asks her.

“I read the words go, dog, mom, at, cat and no.” Amelia says to them.

“Oh my god, those are some amazing words to learn, you’ll be amazing in kindergarten in September.” Janine tells her.

“What grades do you all teach again?” Amelia asks.

“I teach second grade with your mamma.” Janine tells her.

“I teach first grade.” Gregory says.

“And I teach 8th grade social studies and history.” Jacob says.

“You teach second grade with my mamma?” She asks Janine and Janine nods. “So will I get two teachers in second grade?” She asks as Melissa walks up behind her.

“No Tesoro, just one. Janine and I teach the same grade but have different kids in our class.” Melissa explains to her.

“So which teacher will I get in second grade?” She asks Melissa.

“I don’t know, you might get me or you might get Janine.” Melissa tells her.

“Well I hope I get you, Mamma.” Amelia says and Melissa smiles.

“I hope you’re in my class as well, Tesoro.” Melissa says to her and then looks at you. “I think I have to go rescue your mommy from my ma.” Melissa suddenly says and everyone sees you looking horrified at whatever Teresa is telling you. Melissa walks up to where you, your parents and her mom are and can hear what her mom is telling you.

“And it got everywhere. Then all of a sudden Melissa was fine, like she wasn’t throwing up for a week.” Teresa tells you and you have your eyes wide.

“It almost seems like you’re telling horror stories with the way my wife is looking at you.” Melissa says as she stands beside you and wraps an arm around you.

“In a way she is.” You say, still in shock. “Stories about the horrors of having sick children.”

“How did you get on that topic?” Melissa asks you all.

“I honestly don’t remember.” You tell her. 

“Hmm, well come on, let’s go get them to open presents.” Melissa suggests and you nod. 

“So this next one is from Janine, Gregory and Jacob.” You say as you read the card out loud. Nico and Caty both rip the wrapping paper off to reveal 2 PlasmaCars. “Oh my god, I had one when I was a kid.” You exclaim.

“So did I, which is how I knew it would be perfect for your kids.” Janine tells you.

“Mel, did you have one?” Jacob asks Melissa and Melissa shakes her head. 

“No, what do they do?” She asks as Amelia is on her lap.

“Well your kid sits on it, you push them and they get to move the wheel and control where they go. They can also use their feet to push themselves.” You explain as you look at the gifts. “Thanks guys.” You tell the trio. 

Melissa gets the presents that you and her got them and you watch as they rip the wrapping paper off. Caty looks at the swivel chair in confusion and then Melissa picks her up and places her in the chair.

“What do you think?” Melissa asks Caty as Nico looks at his toy guitar. 

“Comfy.” Caty says and then she leans back to relax in it. 

“So you can look at your books or play with your toys in here.” Melissa explains and Caty smiles. Melissa then looks over and sees you’re freeing the guitar from the box for Nico. You free the guitar and pop in the batteries before giving it to him. Nico pushes a few buttons and it makes noise and he smiles. 

You both watch as they open the rest of their gifts and they keep getting distracted by playing with their new toys. You ended up getting the scissors from the kitchen to get all of the toys out. 

After all the toys are unwrapped and free from the restraints and boxes, then you let the twins play with their new toys. While they play with their toys, all the adults start talking to each other and Amelia chimes in every now and then. 

“And all the kids make such cute little Valentine’s Day cards for their parents.” Janine tells everyone with a big smile. 

“My students did as well, they had so much fun.”  You say. 

“Can I make a Valentine’s Day card?” Amelia asks and you all look at her. 

“If you don’t make one at daycare or pre-k by Valentine’s Day then you can make one here.” Melissa tells her and Amelia nods. 

Half an hour later the twins start getting bored so Melissa goes into the kitchen to light the candles on the cake. She then goes out and you all see her come out so you stop talking. 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Nico and Caty, happy birthday to you.” Everyone sings as Melissa brings the cake to them. Nico and Caty look at the candles and Melissa shows them what to do. Nico blows out his candles on one side of the cake and then Caty copies him with her own candles. 

Melissa cuts the cake while you hand out the pieces to everyone. When everyone gets a piece, Melissa cuts a piece for you and her to share and you grab 2 spoons. You both sit at the dinner table to join everyone and Melissa puts the plate down and you both start eating it. 

“So does anyone have any interesting plans for the rest of today or tomorrow?” You ask. 

“Gregory and I are going to Bonetown for a date.” Janine chimes in and you see Melissa’s unimpressed face. 

“I thought my wife asked if there was anything interesting you have planned.” Melissa deadpans. 

“Well that could be interesting, I mean it’s cute that they still like to go on lots of dates with each other even though they’re married.” You tell her and she looks at you. 

“Are you referring to the fact that we haven’t gone on a date in awhile? Cause I would like to point out that we have 5 kids.” Melissa tells you.

“I know and I wasn’t.” You say to her. “I’m just saying that it’s nice that they haven’t lost that spark to their relationship. I mean we haven’t lost the spark.” 

“I think it’s more of a burning flame now.” Melissa tells you with a smile.

“Me, Janine and Gregory are going to trivia night at Ruby’s tomorrow night.” Jacob says and you all look at him. You then see Melissa taking a piece of the cake and you push it off her spoon and she looks at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“What was that for?” She asks you.

“Felt like it.” You say and then you go to take a bite but she pushes it off your spoon as payback. 

“Do you guys want to come to trivia night with us?” Janine asks you both.

“Hell no.” Melissa immediately says.

“Melissa.” You say sternly and she looks at you.

“What?” She asks, clearly confused and you look at Janine.

“What she meant to say was we would love to come but can’t.” You tell Janine. “Right Melissa?” 

“Sure.” Melissa says as she puts some cake on her spoon. You kick her shin and you see her mouth an ‘ow’. “I mean yes, that’s what I meant to say.” She says. “That was my shin.” She mutters to you. 

Half an hour later she’s watching you from the couch as you’re sitting on the floor, playing with the twins and their new toys. She hears a tiny giggle and looks at Mia that’s on her lap after feeding her. She sees Bella is on your mom’s lap and still drinking from the bottle. She turns Mia around so they’re face to face and Melissa smiles at her. Mia then reaches out and touches Melissa’s face. 

“I’m your Mamma little one.” She says and Mia smiles. She then looks over and sees Amelia talking a mile a minute to the trio. 

“And then they did a spin like this.” Amelia says as she describes and shows an example of the dance you and Melissa did on Christmas Eve. 

“We did a waltz to Carol of the Bells.” Melissa tells them and Amelia nods.

“Ya, they did, and it was amazing.” Amelia says. “Mamma has been teaching me so I can dance like her and Mommy.” Amelia adds and then somehow switches topics to something very unrelated to dancing.

You and Melissa have gotten used to her switching topics very quickly to something totally unrelated to what she was talking about before. It never really bothered either of you as it was often entertaining what would randomly pop in her head. 

Melissa then grabs the teething ring and hands it to Mia and she sucks on it. She rubs Mia’s cheek as it’s been irritating her a lot lately and Mia leans into the touch and sighs.

“I know, it’s painful, my bambina.” She tells her softly. Mia then lays her head on Melissa’s chest and bites the teething ring to try and stop the pain.

About half an hour later is when everyone leaves and you both thank them all for coming. You both turn around and you see Amelia running around with a smile and her hands out like a helicopter. 

“How much sugar did she have?” You ask Melissa and she shrugs.

“Wasn’t really keeping track.” Melissa tells you.

*10 days later, February 14*

You wake up from Melissa grabbing your waist and squeezing really hard. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, amore.” She says softly in your ear and you hum.

“Happy Valentine’s Day my love.” You tell her as she lets you go and you turn around. Melissa sits up and reaches inside the nightstand to pull out a gift. “When the hell did you get a gift? I help you put away the groceries.” You ask her as you take the gift.

“Snuck it in my purse and made Amelia swear not to tell you.” She admits and you laugh as you unwrap it. You see that she got you your favourite chocolates in a heart shaped box.

“Thank you.” You tell her and give her a kiss. “I got you something as well.” You say as you reach underneath the bed and then hand it to her. She unwraps it and sees you got her a printed version of the picture she took at the hospital after the twin girls were born. You got an engraved picture frame that says “La Mia Famiglia”.

“Oh my god, I love it.” She says and then gives you a hug. “It’s going right on my desk at work.” She says proudly as she looks at the photo. “I got it arranged where your parents are coming here to look after all the kids while we go to your favourite restaurant as I was also able to make a reservation.” Melissa says and you open your mouth before launching forward and hugging her. She didn’t expect you to do that so she fell back and took you with her and she laughs.

You both go to work and the both of you get valentine’s day cards from all of your students. A few of your students even gave Melissa a card as she is their favourite teacher, which didn’t surprise you in the slightest. At the end of the day Melissa wraps her arms around you from behind and puts her head on your shoulder.

“Ready for our date?” She whispers in your ear and you hum.

“Yes.” You tell her and then turn around in her hold and kiss her.

“Save that for when you get home.” Ava says as she walks by you both.

You both pull apart and you smile at her as she looks in her eyes. She holds your hand and she smiles.

“Even after almost 12 years I still love you so much.” She tells you and you kiss her cheek. “Come on, let’s go eat.” She says and she grabs your hand and then brings you to the van. 

You both pick up all your kids from daycare and then drive home with them. Your parents arrive an hour later and then Melissa quickly brings you out to the van and drives you to the restaurant. She opens the car door for you and holds her hand out and you take her hand and step out. 

“You’re such a gentlewoman.” You tell her and you kiss her. 

She puts a finger under your chin and lifts it up. “Only for you baby.” She tells you and you smile at her. “I’m starving, let’s go eat.” She says and then they go and walk to the restaurant. 

“Starving for just food?” You ask her and she laughs. 

“Well for dinner and then some…dessert.” She says the last word while looking at you and winks. 

You both sit at the booth you were brought to and you look at the menu. You look up from the menu for a second and you see Melissa looking at you. 

“See something you like?” You ask her and she nods. 

“I love the kids but we don’t have a lot of moments with just you and me anymore.” She says and you smile.

“I feel the same way.” You tell her. The waiter comes and you both say what you want and then he leaves you two be. You look at her and smile before you go and sit next to her.

“What are you doing?” She asks with a smile and she leans her head on her hand that’s on the table.

“Just sitting next to my wife.” You say and she grabs your hand. 

You both then fall into a conversation until the food arrives. You both start eating and you place your left hand on her thigh. Melissa doesn’t think anything of it as you’ve both done that many times. You start rubbing her thigh and Melissa freezes and looks at you. You go to her inner thigh and Melissa grabs your hand. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks you.

“What? It’s not like we haven’t had sex in public before.” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow. 

You then trail your hand to the hem of her leggings and stick your hand inside it. Melissa is glad that there’s a tablecloth there to hide what you’re doing to her. You put your hand in her underwear and find her clit. You circle her clit and you hear her breathing deepen and quicken. She moves her body so that you’ll have room to slip a finger in her entrance, so you do. You slip 2 fingers in her and immediately start pumping and she bites her lip to keep quiet. 

“Are you finding it difficult to keep quiet?” You whisper and she lets a whimper slip out. 

“Y-yes.” She says, very breathy. 

You start pumping faster and she grabs your thigh and presses her nails into your leg. She closes her eyes and tries to control her breathing and not look like she’s getting fucked right now. She feels you curl your fingers in her and hits the spot that makes her lose all thoughts. She feels her orgasm start to build and lets out a few deep breaths. You feel her clench around your fingers and know she’s close so you decide to tease her right before she does and you lean in close to her ear. 

“Are you going to come all over my fingers like a good girl?” You ask her and she whimpers. You then feel her clench even more before she comes all over your fingers. You give her a second before you pull out of her and lick your fingers. “Looks like I got my dessert early.” You say and she’s trying to control her breathing. 

“I don’t know if I hate you or love you for doing that in here.” She tells you and you smirk. She gets her breathing under control and then you both continue eating the food. When you’re done, she leans her head on your shoulder and hums. “That orgasm took a lot out of me.” She says and you kiss her forehead.

“Want me to drive us home?” You ask and she nods. The waiter comes to collect the empty plates and you ask for the bill. After paying, you walk her to the van while holding her hand and you open the door for her. 

“I guess you’re being a gentlewoman now.” She says and you shrug before you close the door and get in the driver’s seat. 

“Seems a common courtesy to at least open the door for your wife after fucking her in a restaurant.” You tell her and she laughs.

You get home to all of your kids there and Amelia looks to be playing a card game with your dad, the toddler twins are playing with their birthday toys and the girls in their playpen while your mom is on the couch and watching both sets of twins.

“Mamma! Mommy!” Amelia exclaims when she sees you both and you both smile.

“Hi, Tesoro, having fun?” Melissa asks her and Amelia nods.

“Grandpa taught me how to play go fish and now playing snap.” Amelia explains and then you see Amelia and your dad continue putting cards down at the same time. “SNAP!” Amelia says as slams her hand down on the cards.

“Ah, you’re too good at this game.” Your dad says and you walk up to them and watch.

“How were the twins, both sets of them?” Melissa asks your mom.

“Oh they were perfect. We fed the girls the food you told us to give them and we gave the other 3 the dinner that you left for everyone in the fridge.” Your mom tells her and Melissa nods before she lifts Mia up.

“Hi little one, is your mouth still hurting?” Melissa asks her as Mia is biting the teething ring. 

“She was fussy earlier, I think those teeth are coming in fast.” Your mom tells Melissa. 

“Maybe everyone can have some ice cream tonight, and soothe those gums.” Melissa tells Mia and Mia lays her head on Melissa’s chest.

“You were born to be a mother.” Your mom says and Melissa looks at her. “You’re incredible with all of your kids.”

“I helped raise my siblings, so I got a head start.” Melissa tells her. 

“You may have helped raise your siblings but not everyone will raise their kids with the amount of care and love that you do.” 

“Thank you.” Melissa says and your mom nods. 

“SNAP!” You all hear and look to see Amelia won the game. 

“How did you win again?” Your dad asks and Amelia giggles. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to head out now that the mothers have returned.” Your mom announces and your dad gets up. 

You thank your parents for looking after them and then they leave after they say goodbye to everyone. You then take the cards from the table and shuffle them and Amelia looks at you curiously.

“Alright, time to see your go fish skills.” You tell her and Amelia smiles. “Let’s go to the couch.” You suggest and you both walk over.

Amelia sits on the couch beside Melissa who’s holding Mia and you sit on the loveseat. You deal the cards and then the game starts. Melissa watches you both play together and she even helps Amelia out. 

“Ask for that.” Melissa says as she points to a card.

“Do you have any 4’s?” Amelia asks and you glare at Melissa before handing over three 4’s. 

“I think this is cheating as you have a great memory.” You say and Melissa laughs. “Do you have any 10’s?” You ask. 

“Go fish.” Amelia says and you pick a card from the pile. “I win!” Amelia exclaims 10 minutes later and she gives Melissa a high five. 

“Alright, I think it’s time everyone got ready for bed.” Melissa says and you look at the time and see she’s right. 

30 minutes later you close Nico’s door and then walk to the bedroom. You enter and see there’s a couple of electric candles on and the lights are dimmed. You see Melissa there and she walks up to you. 

“You didn’t think Valentine’s Day was over, did you?” She asks as she takes your shirt off and then unclips your bra. “Because I still haven’t had my dessert.” She adds before she wraps her mouth around a nipple.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms 

@idonothingalldays-blog 

@sexysapphicshopowner 

@dvrkhcld 

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie 

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@thnxdg

@morgananyx

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

@italianaidiota

@olderwomenenthusiast

@ackleybloodybridge

@creaturesaphique

@cupldscntrl

@calliopetworld

@alwaysgoodnight

@yoyo-w

@fragile-angell

@upsidedowndanvers

@lissyganda

@sapphictacobomb

@dopenightmaretyphoon

@lisaannwalterlover

@rep-aj-lover

@m6niacs

@agathas-doll

@eliscannotdance

Let me know if you want to be added!

[scary-noodlesblog]

Soulbound Ch 14

Sympathy For The Devil

Soulbound Masterlist

(A/N): wooo we are on season 5! Check out my Tumblr page for polls on future plot points for this story because sometimes I'm indecisive. 

3rd Person POV:

"Come on!" Dean says, pulling his brother and sister to the doors of the sanctuary slam shut in their faces. They rattle the door, struggling to open it and escape the rising of the literal devil behind them. A high-pitched sound makes the three hunters turn around, grimacing at the light before the sound gets louder, bringing them to their knees as they cover their ears. As white engulfs them, Dean, Sam and (Y/N) all shut their eyes. 

"What the devil is your name?" (Y/N) hears before she opens her eyes. She glances around her, seeing Sam on her right, Dean on the other side of him. Something has teleported them onto a plane. She looks on the little screen on the seat in front of Dean, seeing the in-flight movie of "Devil's Feud Cake", a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

No one around the three seemed to have noticed their sudden appearance, someone even walking on (Y/N)'s left down the aisle towards the restrooms. "What the hell?" (Y/N) asks, looking over at her brothers, who look just as equally confused.

"I don't know." Sam shakes his head, glancing out the window.

The pilot speaks through the intercom above their heads, "Folks, quick word from the flight deck. We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore—" 

"Ilchester? Weren't we just there?" Dean asks. 

The pilot continues, "So if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to—Holy crap!"

A sudden shock wave knocks the plane off kilter, people getting thrown around the plane like ragdolls as they scream. (Y/N)'s knuckles turn white as she grips the armrests. Oxygen masks drop down, the three hunters immediately putting them on. Several different alarms and beeping are going off. Sam's left arm is holding onto (Y/N)'s left armrest, his arm extended over her lap like a mother who just had to brake really hard in a car. (Y/N)'s right hand holds her mask while the left holds a fistful of Sam's jacket sleeve. The high-pitched sound returns as Dean looks out the window, terrified.

~~~~~~~

1st Person POV: 

After getting off the plane of death, the three of us got into a rental car. Dean is driving like always and Sam in the passenger seat, leaving me in the back as per usual. Sam clicks on the radio, an announcer's voice playing over the speakers, "—and Governor O'Malley urged calm, saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown."

"Change the station." Dean mumbles.

Sam pokes at the radio, another announcer's voice cutting through. "—Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area—"

Click. "—announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear—"

Click. "—a series of tremors—"

Click. "—swine flu—"

Sam turns the radio off and sighs. "Dean, look—"

"Don't say anything." Dean interrupts him, pausing for a moment. "It's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?"

"Yeah, okay." Sam says softly, nodding his head. 

"All right, well, first things first—How did we end up on Soul Plane?" Dean asks.

I shrug, crossing my legs, "Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way?"

"Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas."

~~~~~~~

The three of us wander around quietly throughout Chuck's house. There's blood and household items everywhere. The boys and I enter the kitchen, seeing blood on the toaster and microwave turn plate. A creak from behind us puts us on higher alert, I wander back into the living room behind Sam, Dean behind me. 

I let out a gasp as someone jumps out, swinging something at Sam's head. Sam stumbles back, almost into me as he holds his head. "Geez! Ow!"

Chuck looks at us in disbelief, holding a...toilet plunger? Ew. "Sam."

"Yeah!" Sam scowls, making me chuckle.

"Hey, Chuck." Dean greets from behind me.

Chuck pants softly, stepping forward a little. "So...you're okay?"

Sam rubs his head again, "Well, my head hurts."

"No, I mean—I mean, my—My last vision." Chuck stammers. "You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black."

Dean's eyebrows raise as I look at Sam, crossing my arms. "Your eyes went black?"

Sam turns to glance at Dean and I, "I didn't know."

I shake my head, putting myself back on the right train of thought, "Where's Cas?"

The look on Chuck's face immediately fills me with dread. He looks at me like he's about to give me his deepest sympathies. His next words rip the air from my lungs. "He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I'm sorry."

It feels like my throat is closing as I hear Dean, "You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something."

"Oh, no. He, like, exploded." Chuck takes a couple steps forward. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

Dean puts his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A silent, 'are you okay?'

I swallow thickly and nod, blinking away the water pooling in my eyes and maintaining my composure. I let out a sniffle and shift my weight to my right leg. Sam looks back at us again before turning back to Chuck with a sigh. "You got a—" Sam gestures to the left side of his head. My eyebrows crinkle as Dean pulls out the pocket door to the kitchen. 

"Uh...right here?" Chuck touches the right side of his head.

Sam shakes his head, "Uh, the..."

Chuck feels around the other side of his hair, "Oh. Oh, god." He pulls something out of his hair, something small and white-ish. "Is that a molar?" He holds out the tooth, making me cringe. "Do I have a molar in my hair? This has been a really stressful day." I hear Dean slide the door back in its place and walk back up behind me.

Dean scoffs, "Cas, you stupid bastard."

My eyebrows furrow as I smack Dean's chest. "Stupid? He was trying to help us."

Dean just nods, "Yeah, exactly."

"So, what now?" Sam shrugs.

"I don't know." Dean huffs. 

I look at Chuck, who looks like he's disassociating. "Oh, crap." he mumbles.

"What?" I ask.

"I can feel them."

A new voice cuts through from the kitchen, "Thought we'd find you here." We turn to see Zachariah, accompanied by two other angels. The former nudges his foot through the debris on the floor, metal clattering. "Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us."

Dean shoves a finger in the angel's direction. "You just keep your distance, Asshat."

Zachariah looks at Dean with a calm expression. "You're upset."

"No shit, Sherlock." I roll my eyes, glaring at the winged fucks in front of me.

"Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!' Dean yells.

The angel just shrugs, "Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything. Right, Sammy?" Zachariah winks, making Sam shift uncomfortably. "You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

Dean just nods like he's amused. "Is that so?"

"You want to kill the devil. We want you to kill the devil. It's...synergy." Zachariah explains.

Dean scoffs, "And I'm just supposed to trust you? Cram it with walnuts, ugly."

Zachariah chuckles. "This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast—before he finds his vessel." 

"His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?" Sam laughs softly.

"He is an angel. Them's the rules." The angel smirks. "And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help." 

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche." Dean challenges. "After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!"

"You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" Zachariah asks before looking down at Dean's hand. "You're bleeding."

My eyebrows furrow as I see blood drip from Dean's hand. Dean smirks, "Oh, yeah—a little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean reaches behind him, pulling out the pocket door and slapping his bloody hand to it. 

Sam, Chuck and I flinch as a bright white light engulfs the angels, banishing them.

"Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch." Dean grumbles before looking back to us.

Chuck sighs, "This sucks ass."

~~~~~~~

I sit on one of the motel beds of the Regent Motel, a dingy little place under a train overpass. I huff as I clean my gun, the different pieces laid out in front of me on the covers. Dean, only a few feet away, is reloading some of the guns that were in the Impala's trunk at the table.

"Hey." Dean greets Sam as the younger Winchester walks in, making me lift me head from my current task.

"Hey." Sam closes the door and pulls out two little bags, tossing one to Dean, then to me. "Here. Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter."

"Where'd you get it?" I raise an eyebrow as I examine the small, brown cloth bag.

"I made it." Sam says, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

"How?" Dean puts the hex bag on the table.

Dean looks up at Sam as he hesitates for a moment, "I...I learned it from Ruby." Of course he did.

The older Winchester sets down his gun and approaches Sam. "Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?"

Sam shakes his head. "I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up."

"Supernatural methadone." Dean chuckles. 

"Yeah, I guess." Sam smiles slightly before hesitating again. "(Y/N), Dean—"

I lift my head from cleaning the gun again as Dean interrupts him, "Sam." He turns back to the table. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

Sam chuckles lightly, "Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I screwed up'? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right—"

Dean interrupts him again, yelling, "So why do you keep bringing it up?!" 

"Dean." I chastise, my voice sharp as I narrow my eyes at Dean. "He's just trying to make it up to us. He's allowed to feel guilty. He was manipulated. Sam really thought he was doing the right thing."

Sam sighs and nods. Dean turns back to him, bringing his voice down again. "Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it." Sam nods again and Dean continues. "All right, so, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"

"We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is." Sam mumbles.

I half-shrug, standing up from the bed. "All right. So we just got to find...the devil."

~~~~~~~

Sam sits at the table while Dean sits on the bed, his back to the headboard. I lay next to him, on my stomach, my head by his feet, the two of us watching tv while Sam reads from John's journal.

A lady on the Tv is talking to an environmentalist. "How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?"

"Two words. Carbon emissions." The man responds.

Dean just scoffs, "Yeah, right, wavy gravy."

 I look back at Dean with a small laugh before there's a knock at the door. Dean nudges my calf and then grabs his gun, standing up from the bed. I sit up, grabbing my own gun as well but stay by the side of the bed.

Sam answers the door, revealing a woman who seems to be having trouble breathing. "You okay, lady?" Sam asks, his voice sounding confused.

The woman pants, her voice breaking, "Sam...is it really you?" Sam turns back to look at Dean and I, I cross my arms over my chest, trying not to laugh. The woman steps forward a little, putting her hand on Sam's chest. "And you're so firm."

"Uh, do I know you?" Sam asks warily, eyebrows crinkled.

The woman puts her hand down and takes a breath. "No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're—" She looks passed Sam to Dean, "—not what I pictured." She then looks at me. "You're more...tomboyish than I pictured."

"Yeah, well, not much room for heels and cocktail dresses here." I roll my eyes.

"I'm Becky." She looks back up at Sam, ignoring what I said, before pushing past Sam into the room. "I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few—" Becky glances down, giggling nervously. "Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were."

"Chuck?" Dean asks, standing up from the bed.

Sam closes the door and Becky turns to the three of us, "He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."

"Right. Just, um," Sam clears his throat. "...what's the message?"

Becky closes her eyes like she's reciting a prayer. "He had a vision. 'The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.'" 

"The Michael sword?" Dean asks.

Sam glances at Dean before looking down at the woman, "Becky, does he know where it is?"

Becky nods, "In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Forty-two...dogs?"

"Are...you sure you got that right?" Sam questions.

"It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said." She steps closer to Sam. "I memorized every word." Her hand reaches up to rest on Sam's chest again. "For you."

Sam looks at Dean and I again, then back down at Becky. "Um, Becky, c—uh, can you...quit touching me?"

I snicker as Becky's hand rubs his chest, her eyes closed. She shakes her head with more labored breathing. "No."

~~~~~~~

Later, there's another knock on the motel door. I open it this time, revealing my adoptive father. "Hey, Bobby."

Bobby wraps his arms around my shoulders, my arms circling his ribs. He smelled like home, old books, whiskey and black coffee. "Good to see you kids all in one piece." Bobby then goes to hug Sam, who's smiling. 

Then he hugs Dean, patting his back, "You weren't followed, were you?"

Bobby glances between the three of us, "You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

I chuckle while Sam scoffs out a laugh. "You heard."

"I heard, Romeo. So...sword of Michael, huh?" Bobby sighs.

Dean's eyebrows crinkle, "You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?"

"You better friggin' hope so." Bobby says, opening a book to a painting of Michael surrounded by other angels on the table. In the painting, Michael looks like a woman with wings while the other angels look like naked babies with wings, almost like the stereotype depiction of cherubim. Bobby points to the painting, "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got."

Sam flips the page, showing another painting where Michael looks quite feminine. Dean leans over Sam's shoulder to look at the page, "You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

Bobby half-shrugs, "Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me. He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." He points to the sword in Michael's hand. "So if we can find it..."

"We can kick the devil's ass all over again. All right. So, where do we start?" I ask.

"Divvy up and start reading—try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense."

Sam stands up from the table, walking over to a pile of books Bobby brought. He stares at is, not actually picking one up. "Sam?" I call.

Bobby looks up from the book, "Kid? You all right?"

Sam turns to face Bobby. "No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Sam..." Dean warns.

"Dean. Shut up." I narrow my eyes at Dean.

Guilt covers Sam's features, "Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal."

"Sam, stop it." Dean raises his voice.

"Dean." I interrupt again, my volume raising to meet his. "Shut. Up!"

Sam's voice is soft and breaking. "I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."

"You what?" Bobby stands up.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on." Sam mumbles, sounding like he's about to cry.

Dean doesn't say anything more, but Bobby walks up to Sam. "You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant."

"I'm sorry." Sam apologizes, tearing up. I stand up, striding over to Bobby and Sam.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"

"Bobby!" I yell, offended on Sam's behalf. 

Sam nods numbly. His voice comes out soft, "There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

Bobby glares at Sam. "Yeah. You do that."

I look between the two men I have come to know as a father and a brother. I don't even recognize them anymore, if looks could kill, I'd be standing over their bodies. But I don't follow Sam, figuring he needs the space.

~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV:

Bobby and Dean sit at the table, doing research while (Y/N) sits on the bed. Her back rests against the headboard as she keeps her eyes on the book, not even wanting to give the two men in the room the time of day.

"I never would have guessed that your daddy was right." Bobby says to Dean after a while of silence.

Dean doesn't even look up from his book, "About what?"

(Y/N) doesn't look up either but she tunes into their conversation as Bobby continues. "About your brother." Dean finally looks at Bobby, "What John said—you save Sam or kill him. Maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Dean asks.

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him." Bobby sighs.

"Bobby." Dean huffs, his voice chastising.

"He ended the world, Dean. And you and I weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on us. I'm just saying, your dad was right."

"Dad." Dean mumbles in realization. 

Dean walks over to the bed where (Y/N) is sitting. He rummages through his duffel bag at the foot of the bed, his sister finally looking up at him as he mumbles, "It's got to be in here somewhere." Dean pulls out a Ziploc baggy full of cards.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asks from the table, looking just as confused as his adoptive daughter.

"Here." Dean pulls out the card, reading it. Bobby stands up as Dean starts to walk over to him.

Dean smiles, "I don't believe it."

"What the hell is it?" Bobby asks.

"It's a card for my dad's lockup in upstate New York. Read it." Dean replies, handing Bobby the card.

Bobby takes the card and reads it aloud. "'Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill'."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen as it hits her. "Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs."

Dean takes the card back as Bobby's eyebrows furrow. "So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant." Dean chuckles softly.

Bobby sighs, "Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me."

Suddenly, Bobby punches Dean, sending him through the divider between the motel room's kitchenette and the beds. (Y/N) gasps, getting up from the bed as Dean hits the floor. Bobby walks over, hauling Dean up. (Y/N) stomps over and tries to pull Bobby off of her brother, only for him to backhand her to the floor. Bobby then drop kicks Dean through the bathroom door and his eyes turn black. 

Bobby grabs (Y/N) by the throat, hauling her to her feet while two more demons enter the room, one male, one female. The male demon goes over to Dean, also pulling him to his feet. (Y/N) struggles against demon-Bobby, gritting her teeth.

"I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean." The female demon says.  "But I never dreamed you were so V.I.P." She sees Ruby's knife on the table, picking it up. "I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago." The female demon's attention then lands on (Y/N). "And you, we've always wanted you. I mean, an angel's bond just ripe for the taking."

"Ruby." Dean tries to identify weakly.

The female demon grins, "Try again. Go back further."

"Meg." (Y/N) identifies correctly.

Meg chuckles. "Hi. These are the days of miracle and wonder, you two. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It's Heaven on Earth. Or Hell. We really owe your brother a fruit basket."

"My god, you like the sound of your own voice." Dean strains.

"But you, on the other hand, you're the only bump in the road. So every demon—every single one—is just dying for a piece of you. Both of you." Meg smirks.

Dean just chuckles. "Get in line."

Meg stands in front of Dean. "Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby." her voice lowers to a whisper. "Let's ride." Then she plants her lips on Dean's. He grunts as her tongue swirls in his mouth before she pulls away.

Dean coughs, "What is that, peanut butter?"

Meg only strides over to (Y/N), licking her lips as her eyes wander the female hunter's form. (Y/N) glares at her, Meg cupping the back of her neck and kissing her as well, the demon's tongue claiming her mouth. (Y/N) cringes and understands why Dean asked about the peanut butter. 

Meg breaks away, taking a moment to wipe the saliva from (Y/N)'s lips, "You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake screaming in there. And I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you."

Meg hands demon-Bobby the knife, who brings it to (Y/N)'s throat. Demon-Bobby backs her up, pinning her to the wall. "Bobby!" She yells as she struggles. Dean also struggles against the male demon, eyes wide.

"Now!" Meg shouts at demon-Bobby as he looks back at her.

Demon-Bobby raises the knife again, ready to plunge the blade into his daughter as she yells, "Dad! No!"

The black fades from Bobby's eyes as the man comes to, seeing his hand on (Y/N)'s throat and a knife in his other hand. Bobby regains control, bringing the knife down. (Y/N) throws a hand up to protect herself, eyes squeezing shut and Dean yelling her name. But the pain never comes, she opens her eyes again to see Bobby has embedded the demon knife in his stomach.

Bobby flashes gold as the demon inside him dies. "No." (Y/N) whispers with tear filled eyes.

Dean takes the opportunity, breaking out of the male demons hold and fighting him and Meg. The male demon slams Dean into a wall before tossing him to the floor. The door opens again, Sam on the other side, seeing Bobby on the floor bleeding, (Y/N) pressing her hands to the wound, and Dean getting beaten.

"No!" Sam yells. Meg swings the motel room's landline phone into Sam's face, his back hitting the wall as she approaches him.

"Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you." She says.

"Meg?" Sam takes a heavy breath.

Meg smiles widely with a chuckle. Sam swings at her and misses, taking a punch to the gut, then a knee to his crotch before hitting the ground. Dean takes a kick to the stomach as Meg taunts the younger Winchester. "It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?"

The male demon kicks Dean again as Meg punches Sam. Suddenly, the male demon has his legs kicked out from underneath him, (Y/N) bringing the demon knife down into his chest before ripping it back out. The male demon flickers as Meg stands up and backs away. (Y/N) grips the knife tightly, her knuckles white as she advances on Meg, a murderous glare colliding with tear stains on her face. Meg screams as the demon smokes out of the vessel. The woman's body collapses and (Y/N) lets the knife drop, going back over to Bobby. 

~~~~~~~

Dean and Sam burst into the emergency room of the hospital, rushing in carrying Bobby with (Y/N) trailing behind them covered in Bobby's blood.

"Need some help here!" Dean yells as nurses rush over.

"What happened?" One nurse asked.

"He was stabbed!" Dean continues to yell, his voice strained from Bobby's weight.

"Can we get a gurney?" The nurse shouts as two other nurses rush over with a gurney.

Another nurse comes up to (Y/N), concerned about the blood. "I-It's not mine, p-please just save my dad." (Y/N) murmurs as Bobby is rushed off on the gurney. 

The nurse stops Sam and Dean from following. "Just wait here."

"We can't just leave him." Sam pleads.

"Just don't move. I've got questions." The nurse says firmly before walking away.

"Sammy, we got to go." Dean pants, looking at their little sister who seems to still be processing what happened.

Sam follows his gaze and shakes his head. "No. No way, Dean."

"The demons heard where the sword is. We got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already. Come on!" Dean rushes over to (Y/N), cupping her face in his hands to bring her out of the little trance she seems to be in. "Come on, sweetheart, we gotta go get that sword."

(Y/N) looks up at him, eyes searching Dean's as she nods, ready to kill every demon in existence for what happened. Dean presses a kiss to the top of her head before him and Sam usher her out the door.

~~~~~~~

The three hunters enter John's storage, guns ready after the boys let (Y/N) change out of her bloody clothes. Two dead demons lay on the ground, making the siblings confused. They look around at all the random hunting stuff before a voice is heard.

"I see you told the demons where the sword is." Zachariah says, flanked by two other angels on either side of him.

"Oh, thank god. The angels are here." Dean replies sarcastically, smiling.

"And to think...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." Zachariah waves a hand, shutting the door to the storage unit. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us." The angel explains.

Dean shrugs, eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "We don't have anything."

Zachariah sighs, taking a few steps forward. "It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword." Dean stares at him for a moment before the angel continues, "What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one."

"What do you mean, I'm the sword?" Dean almost growls.

The angel starts to pace as he explains, "You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle."

Dean squints at him in disbelief. "I'm a vessel?"

"You're the vessel. Michael's vessel."

"How? Why—why me?" Dean stammers.

"Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean." Zachariah takes a step forward. 

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun." Dean grumbles sarcastically. "I think I'll pass, thanks."

Zachariah shakes his head, disappointed. "Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes." He makes a finger-gun, pointing it at Dean, then shifting it to (Y/N). "Bang."

(Y/N) lets out a sharp cry of pain as a sickening crunch fills the air, her legs snapping like twigs and she crumples to the floor. Sam rushes over to her with a shout of her name, Dean glaring at the angel in front of him. "You son of a bitch!"

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than her legs." Zachariah threatens. "I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

(Y/N) pants through the pain as Dean takes a step towards the angel. "How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?"

Zachariah shrugs. "Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

A smirk grows on Dean's face. "There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Dean shakes his head. "Well, there's got to be another way."

"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written." The angel says.

Dean just nods with a smile. "Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no."

"Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby—we know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again." Zachariah tries to bargain.

(Y/N) looks up at Dean as he hesitates, ultimately saying, "No."

"Then how about we heal you from..." He takes a second to think. "Stage-four stomach cancer?"

Dean doubles over, coughing up blood into his palm. "No."

Zachariah looks down at Dean. "Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs." Dean turns to his brother, who suddenly is unable to breath. Sam gasps for air as the angel continues. "Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean."

(Y/N) gets up on her elbows, sitting up enough to try and help Sam, even though she knows she can't. "Just kill us." Dean grunts.

"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started." Zachariah taunts before a bright light flashes behind him. He turns to see one of the other angels collapsing, a stab wound to the throat. Castiel then moves onto the other angel, killing him easily as well. He lets the second body fall to the ground before walking up to Zachariah.

(Y/N), looking up from where Sam is laying, breathes a sigh of relief. She whispers, "Cas..." with a soft smile.

"How are you..." Zachariah trails off.

"Alive?" Cas finishes. "That's a good question. How did these three end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

Zachariah looks down in disbelief. "No. That's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put these boys back together and go. I won't ask twice." Castiel threatens. Zachariah narrows his eyes before he vanishes with a whoosh of wings. Sam sits up, looking around surprised. He stands up and helps (Y/N) up as well, Dean also getting to his feet. "You three need to be more careful."

(Y/N) walks around her brothers, throwing her arms around Castiel's neck, her nose buried in his shoulder. She feels him tense for a moment, hesitant to do anything. After a few moments his arms encircle her, his large hands on her back. "I'm so happy you're okay." She mumbles into his trenchcoat. 

"I'm glad you're alright as well." He replies softly, reluctantly letting her go, but keeping a hand on her upper back just below her shoulder blades. 

"Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought." Dean grumbles. 

"Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." Castiel steps forward, putting a hand on Sam and Dean's chests, both of them doubling over slightly with groans. (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrow, confused as she steps forward, wondering what Cas is doing to them.

"What the hell was that?' Dean's voice strains.

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer." Castiel explains, turning around to (Y/N), gently taking her right hand in his left one.

"What, did you just brand us with it?" Dean asks.

Cas looks at the older Winchester for a moment. "No. I carved it into your ribs." He then looks down at his bond, his eyes softening. "Your turn, Ol Allar." He says, calling her something in Enochian. She gives him a nod before he brings his right hand to her chest. (Y/N) grunts, gritting her teeth and then the pain dulls to an ache. 

There's a pause before Sam clears his throat awkwardly. "Hey, Cas, were you really dead?"

Cas hesitates for a moment, looking down at his hand that holds (Y/N)'s. "Yes."

"Then how are you back?" Dean asks.

Cas doesn't respond, just looking at (Y/N) before pressing his lips to her forehead and vanishing, leaving the three hunters with the dead.

~~~~~~~

"'Unlikely to walk again'?! Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Bobby yells from his hospital bed. (Y/N) sits next to him in a chair, Sam and Dean standing at the window. The doctor flees out of the room as Bobby continues to yell. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!"

"Dad..." (Y/N) trails off, gently grabbing Bobby's hand.

Bobby's eyes settle on her, then flicking to the boys, then back again. "You believe that yahoo?"

(Y/N) smiles apologetically as Dean says, "Screw him. You'll be fine."

"So, let me ask the million-dollar question." Sam chuckles lightly. "What do we do now?"

"Well..." Bobby starts. "We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're boned."

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. "What if we win?" Bobby, Sam, and (Y/N) all look at Dean incredulously. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" (Y/N) asks sarcastically.

"I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." Dean smirks.

Bobby looks between his surrogate children with a small smile. "You are nine kinds of crazy, boy."

Dean shrugs. "It's been said." He leans forward, patting Bobby on the shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. (Y/N)'s gonna stay with you. We'll see you in a bit." Dean smiles softly, heading for the door, Sam following.

"Sam?" Bobby calls. The younger Winchester stops. "I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that...that was the demon talking. I ain't cutting you out, boy. Not ever."

(Y/N) smiles and gently squeezes her father's hand. There's a pause before Sam sighs, "Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome." Bobby chuckles. "I deserve a damn medal for this, but...you're welcome." (Y/N) laughs softly as Sam and Dean leave the room.

~~~~~~~

An ambulance drives past as Sam and Dean walk out in the parking lot. The ground is wet, the moonlight shining in the puddles.

"You know, I was thinking, Dean—maybe we could go after the Colt." Sam says as he steps off the curb.

"Why? What difference would that make?" Dean asks, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there—"

"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit." Dean interrupts, stopping in the middle of the road, Sam stopping with him. "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that." He finishes before moving around Sam.

"Dean..." Sam starts, said hunter stopping again and turning back to his brother. Sam sighs. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

There's a long pause before Dean answers. "I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."

Sam rolls his eyes, "I would give anything—anything—to take it all back."

"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most besides (Y/N). And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." Dean pauses, struggling to find the right words. "I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?" 

Sam nods, his voice coming out soft. "What can I do?"

Dean chuckles sarcastically. "Honestly? Nothing." Sam just nods again, not surprised. "I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?" Sam gives another nod, still not surprised. "I just don't think I can trust you."

Now Sam looks up, that surprised him. Dean just shakes his head and walks to the Impala, pausing at the trunk to look back at his brother before getting into the driver's seat.

(A/N): for the Enochian I just Googled 'Enochian Translator' so don't come at me lol

Soulbound Taglist:

@fairy-alix @ltotheucy @delusional-paradise @moon-trash1507 @cnme2003 @harryssatellitee @bakusquadobsessed @chxrrywine @danniwerner

[dazedbythebolt]

"you're fired." - (marvel) !

𖤓 parings: tony stark x reader (non-romantic)

𖤓 warnings: none!

𖤓 summary: After storming into your restaurant only to leave without a word, you can't help but think there's more to Tony Starks thoughts that he puts out. And you are determined to figure it out, especially when he mingles with your private life.

𖤓 word count: 2.5k

𖤓 a/n: we back bby! thank you so much for the positive feedback, it really means a lot! sorry if this seems sort of rushed, I only had a rough idea for what to do for a next part, but lmk how I did and I hope you enjoyed!!

(PT. 1)

Of course my mind is plagued with thoughts. My manager abided by the billionaires request to send me off for the rest of the day, I’m guessing because he was just as shocked as I was. As I trudged back to my apartment once again a ring sounded in my pocket and I hastily picked up my phone, watching as the words Maria display across my screen.

“Hello?” I greet as always, watching my step on the concrete as I walk into a CVS, hoping to pick up a quick snack.

“Hey, it’s Maria! Warren was flailing all around the kitchen today bragging about how Tony Stark came into our restaurant and ate with you, is that true?” She questions, clearly on break as I hear the sound of pots and pans clanging around in the background.

“Uh yeah, it is. Super longer story though, I still don’t know why he did it.” I state to her, rubbing my eyes as I scan the fridge isles, looking for the drinks. 

“Do you like know him? Our restaurant has like 3 stars, why would he ever just walk in and call for you?” She starts and I can hear her thinking process before I answer.

“Yeah I know just as much as you. He laid me off for the day though so I’m just around the corner getting some food before I head back home.” I explain, finally grabbing the item of my choice and shuffling out to the self-checkout, holding the phone between my shoulder as she starts back up.

“Damn, that crazy I can’t believe I missed it. Oh and also- you weren’t here yesterday! you asked me if I was going to show up, I’m starting to think you were pranking me.” She tries to say angrily, but I can hear the smile at the end of her sentence as I shake my head at no one in particular. 

“No no I promise I wasn’t. It was the super long story I was talking about but I’ll have to catch you up later, I’m about to head back.” I say back, throwing away my receipt and reconnecting my phone with my hand as I exit the store, popping open my drink as I walk to the parking garage.

“Alright alright. I gotta get back to work anyway, lucky you. I’ll see you tomorrow for sure though this time, right?” She almost scolds me as he asks, clearly in search for a yes.

“Of course Maria, and if not I’ll promise to text you. Swear” I promise to her, a smile evident in my voice as she matches me back.

“Okay. See you, be safe.” 

“You too.” We both say as we end the call, and I finally make my way back to the garage. I almost walk past my brand new car before faltering my steps and realizing it was now the one I owned, and not the shitty Honda from before. 

I sigh, climbing into the drivers seat and starting the engine, slightly relived at the fact I now have a vehicle that doesn’t stall. I make my way out of the garage, and into the busy streets, turning up the radio as it plays its tunes smoothly, better from my old stereo. I make my way home calmly, in no rush as I enter my apartment and make the most of my day off in the best way I can think of. Watching TV and eating popcorn until I fall asleep. And of course, that’s what I did to end my night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Waking up the next morning still on the couch obviously wasn’t a way I wanted to start my morning as I slowly began to regret my late night endeavors, but I rise and collect myself nonetheless. Fixing my appearance, gathering my items, and walking to the garage was the same routine from before, of course with the exception of waiting 2 minutes for my car to fully turn on.

But as I made my way through the streets and into the parking garage next to my place of work, something felt…odd. But the past couple days have felt nothing but odd, so I didn’t let it deter me as I still made my way through the back of the restaurant and going to clock in. Yet as I reached the sheet to sign my name and time, a large hand lands on my shoulder stops me to face them.

I give a large look of confusion as my manger, Warren, looks me shakily in the eye. Our usual tough and mean boss was giving me a look of pity, almost like a puppy who had just been yelled at. i display a certain look on my face, hoping he can take my message and say what he has to.

“You’re fired.” He states simply, retracting his hand like I burned him. And I’m starting to feel like I practically did as my skin instantly heats up, my eyebrows furrowing and my tone harsh as I spit out.

“Excuse me?” I hissed, giving him a hard accusing look as I demanded answers. “What did I do? Was it yesterday? Because that had nothing to do with me I swear to you-“ I begin, searching for some sort of cause before he puts his hand up to stop me. 

“It’s not my decision. He called me, and told me to- don’t get upset with me. It’s not going on your record or anything, he explicitly told me to do so. God I hope I’m not next.” He mutters the last part as he doesn’t even meet my eye anymore, walking away with his shoulders hunched before hiding away back in his office. 

Rage isn’t even the word to describe what is coursing through my veins right now. 

I untie my apron at the speed of light before slamming it down on the tile floor, gathering the attention of the others in the kitchen, and I meet Marias eye. 

“Is everything okay? What happened?” She express her congress vividly on her face, rushing to approach me as he puts her hand on my shoulder. But I shove her off me. 

“Im so sorry Maria, but I have to go. He fired me. He fucking fired me. And it’s his fault, god what the hell did I get tangled up in.” I ramble more to myself as I shove past her, trying to will away the tears and replace them with the anger simmering beneath my bones. She tosses me a look of concern, but doesn’t push as she watches see flee out the same door I walked in not 5 minutes ago and I storm my way to the garage and into the shitty, stupid, expensive, sleek, car. 

I punch in the address I found of google and speed through the streets, the only sound in the being my heavy breath as I turn the last corner, parking the car and shutting the door closed loudly. I shove past the men in suits, ignoring their shouts and glares as I storm through the glass doors and up to the front desk. 

“I need to speak to Tony Stark. Right now.” I declare to the woman at the front desk, gripping onto the marble counter as she eyes me carefully.

“Do you have an appointment?” She sighs, starting to search on her computer as I look up the ceiling, hoping my tears can control themselves before looking back at her expectant face. 

“No.” I exhale, voice shaky as he sighs back shaking her head at me.

“Im sorry but I can’t let you in if you don’t-“ she starts, already exiting out a tab and fully turning to me before I interrupt her. 

“Tell him it’s the girl from the restaurant with the car. He’ll know. Just-…please.” I begin to beg, tears now prominent in my eyes as she only stares. Eventually, a heavy sigh leaves her mouth before she picks up the phone, calling someone who calls someone who eventually gets him on the line. 

She explains the current situation and I watch as shock displays her face before she hangs up, standing up and walking away from the desk to beckon me over. We walk over to the elevators and enter as she scans her card to bring us multiple floor s up. 78, 79, 82, I watch as the numbers continue to increase and my hear rate with it. 

Soon enough, we arrive at a floor and walk down a vast hallway, lined with clearly expensive paintings and magazine covers before reaching a double door, and she knocks before giving me a silent nod, walking back to the elevator. I watch confused before watching sunlight creep into the otherwise dim hallway, only to be met with the same face from before. 

“Oh hey, it is you! Make yourself at home, I’m guessing I already know what you’re here for.” He states like it’s so simple as he walks away from the door and to his desk, plopping into his chair and throwing his legs onto the table. But I don’t let him get too relaxed as I storm in after, pointing a rough finger in his direction. 

“You. You- you fucking fired me. The hell is wrong with you!?” I snapped, scrunching my face as I look at him accusingly. He only meets back with that same blank stare, fiddling with a pen between his fingers as he talks back. 

“You know a lot of people don’t come up to my office. And those who do, tend to use their words like the adults they are not- ratting their mouth like a toddler. Want some advice?” He says to me like I’m some sort of teenager, pointing the pen in my direction instead and tilting his head. 

“I don’t want anything more from you actually. First you destroy my car, which is sitting in a dumpster now thanks to you. Next-“ I grunt, standing up straight as I look at the wall behind him, ready to list off before be talks again.

“Well I know your brain might be a little stuffy from that hell hole you call work- but I replaced that pile of trash with a new little present. What, you forgot already?” He teases, but I don’t buy any of it as my expression remains the same. 

“Oh I didn’t forgot. And yes, it’s nice and..well thanks but-“ I start angrily before collecting myself, remembering I never thanked him before starting up again. “That doesn’t mean you can fucking fire me from the only support I have! It’s so hard for me to get a job nowadays, and you’ve just made my life ten times worse. Why. Why did you do it?” I begin to say in an almost desperate plea, feeling those same tears from before brimming in my eyes.

He looks at me slowly, inhaling a breath before speaking. “Because that place was shit, and you looked like you could do with a better one.” He says like its common knowledge, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he maintains eye contact. 

“So you think I deserve better, yet you now leave me stranded in the middle of the most expensive city, to find a job that I supposedly ‘could do better with’? Do you…not realize what you’ve just done to me? What-what you’ve done to my family?” I ask back to him, squinting my eyes as I try to get him to truly understand the situation at hand.

“Yeah of course I understand. That’s why I’ll give you a job here. Whatever you want, matter a fact- here’s your interview. Tell me all there is to know.” He perks up, throwing his feet off the desk and planting them heavily on the floor before ditching the one and clasping his hands together, pointing me towards the seat in front. 

I look between him and the chair in bewildered, waiting for him to chuckle or laugh but no, his expression remains the same. Instead, I do so. “You aren’t serious.” But his look says otherwise as he continues to point his eyes towards the chair. “No! Fuck no. You think I’ve just forgotten everything I said to you that night just because you handed me some pretty gifts and took my fucking job from me?” 

His expression remains still, but it only eggs me on. I decide to finally sit down and look him in the eye, challenging him. “Tell me why. Why the gifts, why the job, why I’m here. Im all ears Mr. Stark.” I conclude, folding my hands on my lap as I don’t break eye contact with him this time. But he does, as he searches for something behind me like all the answers lie there. It takes him a minute to gather himself, but eventually he leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh, watching his desk like it’ll play out the script for him. 

“I-hm.” He starts, but is clearly experiencing some sort of internal battle with himself. “What you said to me that night stuck. Not just you know your insults, but how my experiences differ from yours. I could go on a whole tangent about that topic, but even as a man who likes to talk, I just want to lay it straight. I feel bad. And not in like the ‘oh let me throw a pity party’ for you kind of way, but as in I apologize. In a way that’s like, I understand our differences and need to—clearly—become more aware of my actions during battles, conversations, what not.” He finally turns to me, resting both arms on the armrests of his chair. 

“So really i guess I’ll just say thank you. And I’ll improve on the maybe not so great ways I handle things. And money is the only way I know how to show that so, sorry if that’s not your forte.”

He concludes and I sit in silence, this time my eyes drifting to his table as he watches he slowly, tilting his head like that’s how he’ll gather more information. After a few beats, I lift my head back up to finally respond.

“Thank you. Not just for the gifts and stuff, but for the apology. If you’d call it that I guess, you know you have a weird way of saying things.” I huff out awkwardly, leaving a small chuckle at the end as I bring my hand to rest on my upper arm.

“Yeah well, can’t change.” He replies back, still watching me before he flops his head in the other direction. “Still want that job though?” 

“Well, if you could, I’d prefer you’d help me with the search. Not really ready to go against my morals just to please you, id hope you understand that.” I explain to him, saying it like it’s pretty much obvious as he just shakes his head with a smile.

“Yup. Should’ve seen that one coming. I really need to start going to those eye appointments Pepper sets up for me.” He says more so to himself as he adjusts himself, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen off his desk.

“Already little lady, tell me what you’ve got.”

𖤓 tags: @ifilwtmfc @daniesl

[bamtor1sss]

❝ SOMEONE OLDER, GUYS MY AGE JUST AREN’T THE SAME 2 ❞

— pairing: 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝖿.ᐟ𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 ⸝⸝ 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗒 𝗑 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾

warning :age gap, petnames, slightly suggestive, small make-out, fluff, not proofread!

continuation from Colder .ᐟ

wc 1.3k

a/n: i really love this fic concept and i just wanted to do something short and sweet! i’m in the fluff mood. what can i say~

Soobin was a happy man once he started seeing you. your little doe eyes lighting up did way more to him than you’d ever know, he’d stop by the café just to give you a hug and a quick kiss and bid you a good morning before heading off to work. 

he’d even buy you little gifts—your favorite snack or drink, too big gifts—a brand new-off the shoulder sweater that you’d been wanting for weeks that was insanely priced out of your budget. 

he told himself he’d never forget the day you tried the sweater on, tears nearly pouring from your eyes from how happy you were. you hugged yourself and spun around chanting “it’s so warm!!” “so cozy!!” “it’s like i’m getting an infinity hug from you binnie!”you said jumping as you hugged him, despite refusing the gifts, he’d still go out his way to give you things. he happily wanted to spoil you with expensive items, even though you adamantly declined him and lectured him. telling him how you didn’t get with him just to let him spoil you. he’d nod, leaving his hands on your waist. totally not listening to what you were saying.

you were younger than him by so many years, he thought it was so adorable when you tried to lecture him, he’d completely look at you with heart eyes—cut you off with a kiss mumbling about how he couldn’t help himself.

you really loved him—for him. and not for the luxury gifts. 

he couldn’t really help himself, not when you were so young and energetic. having you call him past midnight full of energy while he was barely able to keep his eyes open was so cute to him.

he’d pick up the phone even if he was sleeping, just to hear you. like now for instance. soobin was finally able to sleep after a painfully long day—he worked overtime, drove through traffic, and just his luck. the elevator to his apartment was in repair which meant he had to walk up a few flights of stairs. and once he got into bed he fell asleep instantly until—his phone buzzed. you were calling him, he groaned to himself. taking a deep breath before replying,

“mm yes princess?”  he said breathlessly, the vibrations felt through your side of the phone. his voice rough and full of sleep. 

“oh! binnie did i wake you up?” he sighed, he would be annoyed if he hadn’t imagined the cute pout on your face you probably had right now. “no you didn’t. how are you?” he yawned, turning in bed. “ahhh~ i’m okay! i’m a little restless honestly and i caaan’t sleep” you said with a sigh. “i wish you were hereee~ you’re like a big plushie!” you giggled. soobin couldn’t help but smile “mm—im a big plushie?” “mhm! you’re like a human heater that can move too” you said softly “i miss youu” he smiled to himself at your words “you know i miss you more” he yawned again, groaning softly into the mic “princess, i love you but you know i have to work in the morning mkay? i love you” he said those last three words in a sing song voice. you giggled “i love you moreee!” he huffed “im sure you do—mm good night my love. i’ll be sure to text you in the morning” 

he ended the call smiling to himself. he probably ended up having a sweet dream about you later that night. 

if there was something else soobin loved it was your voice—he could listen to it for hours and. in fact, he would invite you over just so you could sit all prettily over his lap, leaning onto his chest, idly playing with his hair. he’d sit there all focused totally not listening to what you’re saying, adding in the occasional ‘hmms’ and ‘i agree’. 

soobin often worked twelve hour shifts and the consistent overtime absolutely tired soobin out. just having you around—leisurely talking about your day and twirling your fingers in his hair was enough to lull him to sleep so easily. which to you seemed like the most romantic date ever. you wanted nothing more to be wrapped up in him—bringing some sort of comfort. 

“today was really busy, i had so many orders and i had to make a lot more pastries today-“ soobin leaned his head onto yours and sighed. feeling completely relaxed, “i’m- m’listening, don’t stop speaking” he mumbled softly, hugging tighter like you were some emotional support plushie. you smiled to yourself seeing him slowly drift asleep, speaking quieter and leaning down into him.  

soobin after a while woke up to you buried deep into his chest, fast asleep. he smiled to himself, hugging you tighter. thank god he has the day off tomorrow so he could see you all sleepy in the morning.

and when you did wake up? he was stoking your hair, your head slowly shifting up to meet his eyes. “mm good morning” you yawned stretching a little. “did my little princess sleep well?” you nodded smiling instantly “of course  i did! got to sleep with my little human heater!” you giggled, shifting your legs so you could be on top of him more. 

soobin moved his arms around you, “mm little heater? there’s nothing little about me” you paused, soobin noticed and he smirked. you on the other hand? you laughed burying your head in his neck “soobbbiin!—that sounds so suspicious” 

you laughed. 

he grinned, lifting your face up.

“come on. seriously? what’s little about me? do you not know? do i have to tell you?” he brought your face closer to his lips, not giving you a chance to reply. your lips almost touching—your breath hitched and you nodded.

he kissed you slow, both hands cupping your face. “mm-! wait bin- we—“ he pushed his tongue into your mouth, you didn’t fight it. you sighed softly. one of his hands moved from your face to your back, his large hand covering so much space. rubbing up and down the expanse of your back. when you finally gained a distance from his lips, the loss of contact making him whine.

“bin—we-didn’t brush our teeth” you panted, lips glossy. “do we have too—my little bunny taste sooo sweet?” he whined, hugging you closer. “mhm! germs are real, mkay? kisses afterwards” he pouted.

his lips found your neck again kissing down it “okay-just-one-more-kiss” he said between kisses. you giggled- “binnie! mm—don’t tempt meeee!“ 

which in fact he did, but you willingly let him. he’s just too sweet and cute to say no too!

-

ˋ°•*⁀➷ @lwriina

a/n : please please please reblog or comment if you liked~ also if you have any fic requests please send them my way!! ^^🤎

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Jump the Shark | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI!!!!!! FLEE!!! sexual innuendo, canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, general angst

Word Count: 4892

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

It was clear all of you were exhausted, but Dean wanted to keep putting as many miles between the three of you and Lilith’s last location as possible. At some point, you forced him to pull over. Given it was the middle of nowhere, you, Sam, and Dean had to sleep in the car. Sam slept across the back seat, and you slept atop Dean with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala in the front seat. 

The next morning, you gently lifted your head to see Sam was leaning against the hood of the car brushing his teeth. Dean groaned, alerting you to the fact that he was awake, too, and you sat up in his lap. 

“Dean—” you sighed, feeling something beneath you. 

“What?!” he exasperated. “It’s the morning! Not my fault.”

You giggled and slid off him to open the passenger side door. Next, you found your toothbrush in your duffel bag and went to stand beside Sam.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” Sam asked you.

Dean climbed out of the car and answered for you with a grumble. “How do you think? I'm starving. Let's get breakfast.”

Sam scoffed. “Where? We're like two hours from anything.”

“But I'm hungry now,” Dean groaned. 

“There's probably still a sandwich in the back seat,” the younger brother gestured with his hand before spitting out his toothpaste. 

You watched Dean while you brushed your teeth, and you giggled when he sniffed a sandwich bag and immediately recoiled.

“It's tuna,” Dean grimaced.

You handed Dean his toothbrush, and you stooped back to the duffel bag to find a comb or hair brush. Just then, you heard a phone ringing somewhere in the car. You felt your pockets, but it wasn’t yours. In fact, the ringing seemed to be coming from inside the glove box. You rummaged through the many phones within it before you found the ringing one at the bottom. 

Dean tossed you a quizzical look when you stood up as you stared at the phone in confusion. 

“Isn't that Dad's phone?” Sam questioned.

Dean nodded, and you opened it. “Hello?” you asked, putting it on speaker.

“Oh, sorry—” the voice immediately said, “I thought this was John.”

“He… can’t come to the phone right now,” you replied. “Whatcha need?”

“No, no, no—” the voice rushed out. “I really— I need to talk to John. This is Adam Milligan. He knows me.”

“I doubt it,” you said. “He died over two years ago.”

A small gasp came from the other end of the line, and silence followed. 

“Who is this, by the way?” you questioned, crossing your arms. 

“I'm his son.”

****

Adam instructed you and the brothers to meet him at a café in Minnesota. Ever the skeptic, Dean was plotting to bring as many monster-testing items as possible into the diner with him. 

However, Sam wasn’t so sure this kid was illegitimate. “Dean, look, best I can tell, Adam Milligan is real,” he explained as Dean sped into the parking lot. You handed him a folder of papers you’d found at a library you and the boys stopped at on the outskirts of town. You weren’t sure what to think as of yet, but your guard was certainly up. 

Sam read through the paper. “Um, born September twenty-ninth, 1990 to Kate Milligan. No father listed on the birth certificate. He's an Eagle Scout.”

Dean shoved various weapons into his pockets and jacket, and he even handed you Ruby’s knife. 

“Graduated from high school with honors and currently goes to the University of Wisconsin: biology major, pre-med… Dean? You listening?”

All Sam got was a grumbled response. “This is a trap.”

****

However, all signs pointed to it not being a trap. Adam passed every one of Dean’s tests; he wasn’t a shifter or werewolf, and as far as you could tell, he wasn’t a demon, either. There was even a section of pages in John’s journal from around the time of Adam’s birth that had been ripped out. Given it was a three-ring journal, John clearly left the remnants of the pages on purpose. 

As strange as it all was, you were beginning to believe it yourself. 

Adam explained his mom had gone missing, and he didn’t know who else to call. However, what interested you more was what Adam said about his relationship with John. 

“You know, called when he could. But still…” he trailed off before taking another bite of food. “He taught me poker and pool and even bought me my first beer when I was fifteen. And, uh, he showed me how to drive. Dad, he had this beautiful 'sixty-seven Impala—”

Dean cut him off. “Oh, this is crap. Y’know what? You're lying.” 

Adam recoiled in surprise. “No, I’m not.”

“Uh, yeah, you are.”

“I'm sorry, but who the hell are you to call me a liar?”

“We're John Winchester’s sons, that's who.” He gestured to himself and Sam. “We are his sons.”

Adam stared between the two boys. “I've got brothers?”

“No, you don't have brothers. Look, man, I don't know if you're a hunter or what kind of game you're playing here—”

“I have never been hunting in my life—”

Dean huffed. “Whatever. I'm out of here. C’mon, guys.” Your partner began to storm away, and you moved to follow him. 

Adam called after him, “I can prove it.”

****

Your heart was bleeding for Sam and Dean. The latter was currently holding a picture of a much younger Adam and John, and you swore he was on the verge of breaking the frame in his impossibly tight grip. “He took you to a baseball game?” Dean grunted, staring down at the picture.

Adam nodded. “Yeah, when I turned fourteen. Dad was around for a few of my birthdays.”

Sam gestured for you to come over. He showed you a page from the journal that was dated September twenty-ninth, two-thousand four. All he wrote beneath it was “Minnesota.”

“He took you to a fuckin’ baseball game?” Dean scoffed, his voice gruff. 

“Yeah. Why?” Adam looked at Dean quizzically. “What'd Dad do with you on your birthday?” He took the picture back from Dean, noticing Dean’s white knuckles.

Dean simply fumed, and Sam took the time to jump back in. “Adam, you said you called Dad because your mom was missing. How long has she been gone?”

“Three days,” he replied.

“Who was the last person to see her?” Dean questioned, returning his attention to the case.

“Mr. Abbinanti, our neighbor,” Adam explained. “He saw her come home Tuesday night, but she never showed up to work on Wednesday.”

You noticed a picture of John hugging a woman that looked almost identical to Dean’s mom. When you turned around, you saw Dean square his jaw and shoulders as he looked at the picture, too. 

Adam was explaining to Sam that the police hadn’t found anything, but you figured they wouldn’t. Your gut told you something was very wrong here. In Adam’s mother’s room, you and Dean began moving furniture while Adam questioned you about what you were doing. 

Dean’s replies to the young man were short, but you understood his frustration. 

“Dean, what else can you tell me about Dad?” Adam asked hesitantly.

“You knew him.”

Adam argued, “Not as well as you.”

Without looking at him, Dean said, “Trust me, kid, you don't want to know.”

Sam appeared at the door with a handful of papers.

“Give us a minute,” you said to Adam, brushing past him toward Sam. 

“You talk to the cops?” Dean asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah. Like Adam said, no leads on his mom.”

“Shocker there,” you added.

“But I did find this.” Sam flipped through his papers until he found a newspaper dated from 1990. “In nineteen ninety, there were seventeen grave robberies in Windom,” he explained. He pointed to a photo accompanying the article where you and Dean found John in the background of the image.

“Alright, so, he was hunting something. What?” Dean said.

“No idea. Those were the pages he threw out of the journal. But last month, the corpse snatching started up again. Three bodies from the local cemetery.”

“So whatever he was after, he didn't kill it. It's back.”

“And, what, it's stepped up its game to fresh meat?” Dean challenged. “I mean, Kate's missing, and, uh—” he found a photo in the paper of a man in large black glasses and turned it toward you and his brother, “so is a local bartender; a guy named Joe Barton.”

Your brows furrowed, and you headed back to Kate’s— Adam’s mother’s— room. “Hey, your mom know Joe Barton?” you asked the young man. 

He gave you a quizzical look. “Uh, I don't think so. Why?”

With your lashes fluttering, you looked down toward Adam’s feet. Something under his left shoe caught your eye, and you looked back at Dean. He’d apparently noticed the same thing. 

“Watch out,” Dean told Adam, and you immediately set to work moving the mattress off the bed frame with your partner’s help. Below the bed was a vent just large enough for someone to squeeze through.

Dean and Sam looked at each other briefly before motioning to begin rock paper scissors. 

“You guys are such babies,” you snickered, stepping into the metal bed frame. 

Sam helped you take the vent cover off, and you then began wriggling down the vent with a flashlight in hand. On your hands and knees, you moved down the next horizontal portion of the duct. 

As you moved your right hand to crawl forward, you nearly put your hand on a dry streak of blood. As much as you felt a moral obligation to grimace, you weren’t exactly fazed by such a sight anymore. However, it did set you on edge, and you quickly took out your handgun. 

You crawled forward just slightly more and looked around the corner of the duct where you were greeted by the sight of bits of flesh and blood surrounded by copious splatters of blood. Unable to move any further forward, you crawled back toward Kate’s room.

****

Dean sat at the desk in the room while you claimed the floor. The two of you cleaned various guns in the trunk arsenal, and you quite enjoyed the silence blanketing the two of you save for a few clicks of the guns’ inner workings. It made you happy to have a partner you could simply exist with. 

Sam was reading a book  on his bed, and every once in a while, he’d wince and shift uncomfortably; no doubt related to having slept in the car the night before. Then, when a hammering knock came from the other side of the door, Sam went to open it. 

Adam barged into the room, and you threw your shotgun under the bed while Dean shoved his under his jacket he’d discarded on the floor.

“Who the hell are you?” the youngest man questioned. 

“Adam, hey.” Sam closed the door behind him. “Take it easy.”

“No, don't tell me to take it easy, okay?” He began to pace, and all you could focus on was the leather jacket he continuously nearly tripped over that barely concealed Dean’s weapon. “My house is a crime scene, my mom's probably dead, and you three— well, you tell me to call the cops, but you got to bail before they show? So, who are you really?” 

None of you answered. You kept staring at the jacket.

“Cops didn't know where to look for my mom, Dean, but you did,” Adam continued. And I heard you talking earlier; something about grave robberies. You're not mechanics. I just want to know what's going on. Please.”

“We're hunters,” Sam finally replied.

“Sammy!” you and Dean scolded simultaneously.

“He deserves to know, guys.”

“What do you mean, 'hunters'?”

You dropped your head and sighed. 

Sam explained everything to him. It looked like everything he was saying to Adam wasn’t quite computing in his head. “Okay, so...basically, you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I’ve ever had, that's all real?”

“Godzilla's just a movie,” Dean smirked.

You cracked a small smile. 

“We hunt them,” Sam said. “So did Dad.”

Adam nodded, not looking at any of you. “Okay,” he said.

Dean scoffed. “ ‘Okay’? That’s it?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“That we're liars, that we're crazy. Nobody just says ‘okay,’ " replied Dean.

“Well, you're my brothers.” He looked innocently between the two boys. 

“You are way too trusting, kiddo,” you said. 

Adam gave you a strange look.  “ They're telling me the truth, right?” You nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“Then, I believe you. Now, what took my mom?”

Sam shrugged and took in a deep breath. “We're not sure. Something's in town stealing bodies, living and dead, but we don't know what.” 

“There's a long list of freaks that fit the bill,” Dean added.

“You think maybe she might still be alive?”

Dean looked down at the floor, then slightly toward you.

“I think you know the answer to that, otherwise, you wouldn’t ‘ve asked,” you said. 

“Oh.” Adam’s shoulders fell. “How can I help?”

“You can’t,” you and Dean scoffed.

“This thing killed my mom. If you're hunting it, I want in.”

“Absolutely not,” you answered.

“No,” Dean grumbled simultaneously.

Sam huffed. “Guys, look, maybe—”

Dean cut Sam off. “ ‘Maybe’ what?”

“He lost his mother. Maybe we can understand what that feels like.”

“Why do you think Dad never told us about this kid, Sam? Huh?” Dean grunted with no regard for the fact that Adam was standing right there. “Why do you think he ripped out the pages?” Before Sam could answer, the older brother continued, “Because he was protecting him!”

“Dad's dead, Dean,” Sam replied in a much quieter tone than his brother’s.

“That doesn't matter! He didn't want Adam to have our lives, okay? And we are gonna respect his wishes.”

Adam piped up sheepishly. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No!” All three of you shouted.

Dean tapped your thigh and stood up, heading for the door. “Babysit the kid,” he told Sam.

“Where are you going?” Sam scoffed.

“I'm going out! C’mon, (Y/N).”

You looked back at Sam one last time before closing the door behind you and Dean. 

Once you were in the Impala, you asked, “So where are we really going?”

Dean gave you a look. You could tell he wasn’t mad at you, but he was also too worked up to entertain banter of any kind. And you knew better than to talk about Adam or Sam. 

“I think I wanna work,” Dean spoke up after a moment of tense silence.

“Okay,” you replied, “I’m good with that.”

****

You and Dean went to a cemetery to meet with its director. The stolen bodies were from his grounds, and the only thing of note there was embalming fluid beside the opened tombs. It seemed as though the creature had ripped the corpses open when it took them. 

Your next stop was a bar. Working hadn’t quelled Dean’s anxiety and frustration much, so you’d suggested getting a drink. While Dean stared down at the papers he’d brought in, you waved down the bartender. 

She was an older woman with a sad look behind her eyes. Still, it seemed she did her best to look and feel put together. “First beer's on the house for cops. Feds too,” she said, pouring you and Dean a glass.

“Are we that obvious?” Dean chuckled.

“I know all the local badges.” She set your glasses down in front of you. “You've got that… Law & Order vibe. So, what's the FBI doing in Windom?”

“Looking into the disappearance of Joe Barton,” Dean replied, sliding a picture of the man across the bar. 

Suddenly, that sadness in her eyes covered her face when she looked at the picture.

“I assume you knew him?” you asked softly. She’d managed to evoke more empathy from you than anyone else had in a long time.

“A little. I'm his wife, Lisa.” Though she tried to joke, she couldn’t hide her grief. Her eyes stayed glued to the picture of her husband.

“Well, Lisa, what can you tell me about his disappearance?” Dean questioned.

“Same thing I told the sheriff. He stayed late Friday before last to do inventory. Never came home.”

“And the police?” he continued to press.

“Nothing. Truth is, I was scared they stopped looking. But now, you're here.”

You noticed a picture of the missing man behind the bar. “He was a cop?” You nodded to one of him in a sharp uniform. 

“Deputy. For a little while. That was a long time ago,” she answered.

Your partner asked, “He didn't happen to work the, uh, the grave robbery case, back in 'ninety?”

Lisa gave the two of you a strange look. “He did, yeah. Joe was the one who found those bodies. He got an award for that.”

“That was an interesting case,” Dean nodded. “He ever tell you how he did it?”

You scanned the newspaper image next to the photo of Joe in his deputy uniform, and it seemed Dean did, too.

“Most of the time, he said good, solid police work,” Lisa explained. “But after a few beers, he'd admit he had a little help.”

“From who?”

“A 'specialist'. That's all he'd say.”

“Cops ever find the guy that stole the bodies?” Dean took a large swig of his drink.

‘Aha. John.’ You’d found him in the picture.

“No,” replied Lisa. “But when I asked Joe about it, he'd say not to worry; that ‘we took care of what done it.’ “

****

“ ‘S kinda weird—” Dean said after many minutes of silence on the drive back to the motel. 

You turned to face him.

“—seein’ my dad in that picture,” he finished. “Don’t know how to explain it any more than that, but, uh, just wanted you to know.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I get it. Thank you for telling me.”

Just as Dean pulled into the parking lot, you saw Adam standing next to a large truck while pulling at someone or something beneath it. Before the Impala had even rolled to a stop, you were out of the car and running over. 

“(Y/N)!” Adam called worriedly. “It’s Sam! Help!” He was pulling one of Sam’s arms with both hands, and he was visibly straining. You grabbed Sam’s other hand and pulled with all your might. Together, you and Adam managed to get Sam’s torso free from under the car, and Dean ran over with a shotgun. He tried to aim at whatever was under the truck holding Sam’s ankles, but he couldn’t get a clean shot.

It seemed the youngest Winchester gave a hard kick to whatever was holding him, and the creature let go. You and Adam fell back on the concrete, and Sam flopped forward. 

“Where the fuck did it go?” you asked, scrambling to your feet. 

“Adam, move your truck,” Dean ordered. 

He obeyed, and you discovered a sewer grate under the spot where he’d parked. You were leaning against the Impala next to Dean. “Did you see anything?” your partner asked Sam.

He shook his head. “I didn't get a good look.”

“What the hell is this thing?”

Adam hopped out of his truck looking flustered. “Why— Who— Should we go after it?”

“No, no. In that maze?” Dean scoffed, nodding at the grate. “That thing's long gone.”

“Alright, so,” Sam began, “we don't know what it is, but we do know who it's going after. Joe Barton, Adam's mom—”

Dean cut his brother off. “And Adam. It was under his truck, just waiting for him.”

“It set a trap, and I walked right into it.” It was clear Sam was beating himself off.

“Doesn't matter. You're right; there's a pattern. Joe Barton was a cop. I'm pretty sure he helped out Dad. So we've got him, Dad's girl, and his son.”

“All the people Dad knew in town.”

“At least we know why it's back.”

“It wants revenge,” Adam finished.

****

“I hate this idea,” you said, standing beside Dean with your arms folded.

“Yeah, I don’t feel any better,” he replied.

The two of you watched Sam teaching Adam how to hold and fire a handgun. Sam had been insistent that Adam have his opportunity to get revenge despite the fact that you and Dean were not on board at all. 

Sam had spray painted a target on the back of a “no trespassing” sign in the middle of the rural field you’d found, and there were three small holes in the center of the rings from where Sam had just fired.

You watched Adam take the gun and confidently fire, hitting inside the bullseye. While Dean just seemed frustrated, you were put on guard. Sam was an amazing teacher, undoubtedly, but he wasn’t that good. Adam fired as if he’d known how to shoot a gun all his life despite having said he’d never even seen a gun in person on the car ride over. While you didn’t feel it was disturbing enough to share, you certainly used it as an excuse to overanalyze Adam’s every move after the fact.

During a conversation Sam was having with Adam in the kitchen of his mother’s house, you sat back and watched Adam quietly and meticulously. Sam was busy telling Adam about the wendigo the three of you hunted years ago, and the conversation then shifted to what the life of a hunter entails. 

“That's the price we pay. You cut 'em out, and you don't look back,” Sam was saying. “There's only one thing you can count on. Family.”

Sitting beside you was Dean, and he seemed like he was on the verge of boiling over. “Sam,” he grunted. “Can I talk to you?”

You followed the two brothers over to the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean whispered harshly.

Sam scoffed. “What?”

“ 'Hunting is life. You can't have connections.' Dad gave you that exact same speech, remember? It was just before you ditched us for Stanford. You hated Dad for saying that stuff, and now you're quoting him?”

“Yeah, well, turns out Dad was right,” the younger brother shrugged.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Dean, when I look at Adam, you know what I see?”

“A normal kid.”

“No. Meat. Because the demons and monsters out there, that's all he is. I hated Dad for a long time. I did. But now I think I understand. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same.”

Dean shook his head. “Listen to yourself, man.”

“You think I’m wrong?” Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly for a reply.

“I think it's too late for us. This is our life. This is who we are, okay? And it's fine. I accept that. But with Adam, he's still got a chance, man. He can go to school. He could be a doctor.”

“What makes Adam so special?”

“What, are you jealous of the kid?”

“Are you?” Sam shot back. “Dean… all this… it's not real. The dad Adam knew? He wasn't real. The things out there in the shadows; they are real. The world is coming to an end. That's real. Everything else is just part of the crap people tell themselves to get through the day.”

“Dad didn't have a choice with us, okay? But with Adam, he did. Adam doesn't have to be cursed,” the older brother argued.

“He's a Winchester. He's already cursed.”

“I still a little skeptical that he’s actually related to you,” you cut in for the first time.

“Whatever,” Dean huffed. “Whatever's hunting Adam, I’m gonna find it.”

“You already looked everywhere, Dean.”

“Well, then I’ll look again.” He stormed off to go to the car parked in front of the house. 

You stayed with Sam for another moment, trying to find the words.

“(Y/N), you coming?” Dean asked from the door, turning back only slightly. 

With one last look at Sam, you followed his older brother out.

****

The ride to the cemetery was silent. Both you and Dean were too deep in thought and operating on autopilot as you went down into the tomb the cemetery director showed you to the previous day.

Dean had found a tunnel behind a large stone on the far wall, and the two of you went down with your flashlights and guns in hand. In the corner of your flashlight’s beam, you saw limp fingers attached to a bloody arm that was partially decomposing, and a pair of black glasses were broken next to it.

“Sloppy Joe,” Dean commented, wincing. 

“God, the deputy,” you realized.

Then, you heard a sound behind you. You and Dean both wheeled around and fired several times, and the tunnel collapsed.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” He then tried to call Sam, but he had no signal.

“Son of a bitch,” you echoed, albeit more quietly. 

The both of you looked at the fallen entrance and immediately started trying to kick and shove the rubble out of the way. However, it was useless.

“Let’s just keep moving, then,” you said. 

Deeper in the tunnel, you found a sealed coffin with relatively fresh blood on the outside. Dean helped you shove the heavy lid off, and you both immediately recoiled at the smell it released. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed out, looking down at the dead eyes of Kate Milligan. Pieces of her arms and legs were missing, and her intestines spilled out of her abdomen.

Dean had noticed another coffin, and you went over to help him with its lid. Inside was the corpse of Adam Milligan. 

You and Dean immediately rushed to your feet knowing that Sam was alone with the creature. The two of you ran up the tunnel to shove at the collapsed rocks once more and much more forcefully this time. 

“Fuck!” Dean shouted. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a stain glass window depicting an angel near the place you’d found the corpses of the Milligans. 

“Dee, gimme a boost,” you said.

He ran over to the outer wall of the tomb with you and helped you pull yourself up to the small window. 

“Cover your eyes!” you told Dean as you took your jacket-covered elbow and smashed the glass with it. Once you’d made it through, the ground was just about level with the bottom of the window’s ledge. You laid on your stomach and leaned through the window, ignoring the glass shards poking your torso while you helped Dean out of the tomb. 

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You smiled a little. It was sweet how he checked on you even when you weren’t in imminent danger. When you nodded, the two of you immediately sprinted to the Impala to get back to the Milligan’s house. 

****

It was chaos when you found the creatures and a bloody, tied-up Sam in the basement of the Milligan home. You rushed to Sam’s side, being careful to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of the melee between Dean and the ghouls. Headshots were the only way to kill them, which Dean executed expertly. 

“You okay, Sammy?” you asked as you gave him a once-over. He’d been cut pretty deeply in his arm, and he groaned when you put pressure on it with a ripped-off piece of your shirt. 

“Dean, help me get ‘im up,” you instructed.

“Alright, here we go,” Dean told his brother as the two of you slung Sam’s arms around your shoulders. “Hang on, buddy.”

“Thank you,” Sam told you and his brother.

“Hey, that’s what we’re here for,” you replied. 

****

With Sam’s wounds dressed and your bags packed, you and the Winchesters set off into the night. In the clearing where Sam had taught “Adam” shooting, you set the body of the true Adam Milligan on a pyre wrapped in burial cloths.

“You sure we should do this?” Sam asked.

Dean poured a bottle of lighter fluid over Adam’s body. “Ghouls didn't fake those pictures. They didn't fake Dad's journal. Adam was our brother. He died like a hunter. He deserves to go out like one.”

You wrapped your arm around Dean’s to reassure him. 

“Maybe we can bring him back. Get a hold of Cas; call in a favor,” Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. “No, Adam's in a better place.” He lit a match and threw it on the body. You backed away, arm still wrapped around his. 

“Y’know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much,” Dean said. “You two were practically the same person.”

Sam looked over, but Dean kept his eyes on the burning pyre. The smell of rotting, burnt flesh began permeating through the air. 

“I mean, I worshipped the guy, y’know?” your partner chuckled awkwardly. “I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now.”

Sam gave a small smile. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

After a moment of silence, Dean said, “You take it any way you want.” 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[scarletskye64]

So a friend and I watched SOTM today

Spoilers below along with my first thoughts.

In hopes of summarizing what I know is going to get out of hand very quickly.

This game dies after Jackie’s section.

Both me and my friend agreed Jackie was essentially the best part of the game, and it is horrible how Steel Wool actively does this with their poster villains. Yes you can say that “Jackie was never the poster villain, the mimic was!”

Yes & No.

Jackie was the first costume/mascot/animatronic revealed for this game, she was all over the marketing, she was even built for Pax! Hell, she was even the main antagonist of the Pax Demo!

After an hour into the game, she NEVER appears again.

She suffers essentially what I like to call “The Dimitrescu Effect”, Lady Dimitrescu was basically the big ticket item for Resident Evil Village, the first villain revealed for it, she was the big focus of many trailers! Yet she came first and was rarely mentioned again. While yes that made sense for the game and was quite obvious she wasn't the main focus, it felt horrible to see her be over and done with basically a couple hours into a maybe 8-hour game.

So The Dimitrescu Effect is when a character gets marketed for the game to hell and back, but appears/is the focus for basically a short part of it.

I was extremely excited to see Jackie in the game but was thoroughly disappointed in how she was utilized, although a few horror characters suffer from this, what comes to mind right now is Catnap and Vanny. But if I talk about them that will dive down a deep AF rabbit hole

I was willing to excuse Jackie being a small part of the game initially as I could see it coming a mile away. But past the Big Top section, it all went downhill.

So my issues with the lore.

It sucks. To put it nicely. I could describe what I want to do to it but we’ll be here all night.

Early into the game I mentioned to my friend that Murray’s Costume Manor felt like what I imagined Afton Robotics to be like. And if MCM had been Afton Robotics, the game would’ve been…….. So much fucking better.

This game essentially ruins everything about the original series.

The springlocks? Edwin made those.

Monty & Roxy? Edwin made those!

Sun & Moon??? Edwin made those!!

FREDBEAR & SPRING BONNIE!? EDWIN MADE THOSE.

THE PUPPET!? okay well to my knowledge he didn't make that but he had the plans or idea for it.

THE ORIGINAL ANIMATRONICS!? MOTHER FUCKING EDWIN MURRAY MADE THOSE!!!!

my friend made an excellent point that Edwin Murray is the most Mary Sue character ever, everything was made by HIM!

I can't be alone in thinking, Afton has a big ego and probably liked taking credit for things. But this is a whole new and frankly horrendous level. In the game we find communications between MCM employees and Afton that reveal he stole basically everything from Murray and his employees. Essentially boiling Henry & William’s impacts to zilch.

The only good original thing left for William is he made the funtimes, and even then that's debatable now!

This game is just… bad.

I don't think FNAF is heading in a good direction unless Steel Wool take a very long look at what they’ve done to the lore and story.

Unless they start taking criticism and listening to fan feedback, FNAF… is in short… doomed. Truthfully it has been for a long time… part of me hopes there's no more games after this, but I know there will be. Just maybe, they’ll be good. But I doubt it.

Secret of The Mimic essentially killed all hope I have for this franchise moving forward.

I’ll like sing a somewhat different tune tomorrow as I'm probably riding the fumes of hatred for this game, but this is basically my first thoughts I guess…

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XXII: I’m Terrified, but I Can’t Resist

masterlist | playlist | pin board | prev. | read on ao3 | read bee’s diary

songs for this chapter: but not often, by microwave, finally // beautiful stranger by halsey, 2YL by the front bottoms, autumn dress by mat kerekes

chapter tags: fluff!, first date, swearing, drinking, smoking, adult language, flirting, making out, heavy petting?/dry humping, cumming in pants bc eddie’s pathetic. this chapter is LONG sorryyyyy love u mean it enjoy | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: i really have not seen LOTR… dont be mad at me.

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, my tumblr and ao3 are the only account that feature and contain this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere Reblog to support the author!

—

This time, you’re awake by nine a.m., mostly to avoid another interaction with Eddie while you’re in a towel. You stretch slowly, eyes adjusting to the sunlight streaming through your windows, the dull sound of your brother’s television floating through the walls, background noise in an otherwise quiet house. After rolling out of your bed and half making it, you dig through your dresser for an outfit. Having absolutely no idea what Eddie is planning to do for lunch, you stare at your closet at a loss for inspiration for about ten minutes before texting him.

>hey

Eddie: good morning : )

>holy shit ur awake

Eddie: what can i say ive got a hot date. too excited to sleep

>is this a date?

Eddie: i thought that went without saying! sorry. yes. i'm taking u on a date. : )

>ok smooth talker. where are we going?

Eddie: it’s a surprise

>can i at least have like, dress code parameters?

Eddie: wear something you’d wear on a date!

>ok then. guess i'll figure it out. see u soon

Eddie: cant wait : )

A date. You have a date with Eddie Munson. The word feels wrong, like a shoe on the wrong foot. You go back into your closet, sifting through the hangers of different thrifted items you’d bought without somewhere to wear them. Finally, you pull a piece from its hanger: a black, deep cut, form fitting dress that ends mid thigh. You pair it with a pair of chunky lace up boots, and a simple silver chain you clasp around your neck. You decide against taking your sweater, the air unseasonably warm for autumn lately.

Taking a deep breath, you observe yourself in the full length mirror. You look good, far too good for something that doesn’t even have a label on it. You groan, but decide against changing, and spray yourself with your favorite perfume instead before heading to the bathroom to do your makeup.

–

There’s a knock on your apartment door at noon, and you panic.

“Where you goin’ all fancy?” Chris asks, eyes not leaving his game on the screen.

“I um.” You can’t really lie your way out of this one, considering Eddie is on the other side of that door. “I have a date.”

“You what?!” Chris clicks a button on his controller, stopping the movement on the screen to look directly at you. “Is it with who I think it is?!”

This is it. This is how the entire town finds out you and Eddie are, well, the label is predetermined. You twist the knob and let the door fall open, and the sight before you is not what you’re expecting even a little bit. Eddie is dressed in a black, bicep hugging button down with its top two buttons open, and dark blue jeans with zero rips in the knees. Even his boots look a little shinier. He’s still wearing his worn out leather jacket over it, and his guitar pick necklace sits under his shirt collar, and his hair is fluffier than usual like he’s taken extra care to actually style his curls. He looks hot.

“No fuckin’ way.” Chris mumbles when Eddie hands you a bouquet.

“Holy shit. You look incredible.” Eddie’s smile stretches as he takes you in. “I um, I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like. I got these because I remembered you liked to pick ‘em as a kid.”

“They’re perfect. Thank you.” Little white daisies. You used to wear them in your hair during the summer, sometimes weaving them into headbands and giving them to Eddie. He’d wear them for you, every time. When you look up at him, you find him with bright red cheeks, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck like it’ll settle his nerves. “Let me put these in a vase, I’ll be right back.” Eddie nods, stepping over the threshold. “Chris, can you meet me in the kitchen for a sec, please?”

Confused, Chris pulls himself from the couch and follows you. “You’re dating him?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“No, Chris. I am going on a date with him. One. Singular. And you’re not gonna say a goddamn word about it to anyone!”

“Why are you hiding this? Everyone already knows he’s in love with you, and we’re pretty sure you–”

“This is why I haven’t told anyone. Everyone thinks they know exactly what the fuck is going on, that they know me better than I know myself. I am giving him a chance. I want to see this through for myself without having you, Rob, and Steve breathing down my fuckin’ neck. Okay?”

“Will you at least tell me if it goes well?”

“Maybe, if I feel so inclined.” It would be nice to talk to someone about Eddie, but you’re definitely not too sure Chris is the right choice. “But don’t nag me about it. Or him, that wouldn’t be fair to Eddie.”

“God, this is so strange. Just weeks ago you two were at each other’s throats. I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

“It better be, or I’ll make sure you never know another thing about me again.” You place the flowers into a pitcher, realizing you don’t actually own a vase. “Go buy a vase for these, and your debt will be paid.”

“Debt?”

“If you didn’t live with me, you wouldn't know this information. Now that you know, you owe me.”

“Ugh, fine. Is my debt repaid with the vase?”

“Not even remotely. Thank you!” And you turn from him, making your way back into the living room. Eddie offers out his arm for you, and you take it, ignoring the stifled giggles behind you. You turn to face your brother once more. “Don’t wait up.” With that, you close the door behind you.

“Should I have waited in the car? I figured I’d come to the door, this being a date and all.” His tone is teasing, but his eyes betray the worry underneath.

“No, it’s okay. I just had to give my brother a rundown on all the things that would happen to him if he shared this information with anyone.” You scan Eddie head to toe as you speak. “You look great, by the way. Loving the hair.” You wince at your awkward delivery.

“Why, thank you. Steve helped me pick out some stuff to try.” Eddie must catch the way your face twitches, because he doubles back. “No, no. I didn’t tell him what I needed it for, he figured I was experimenting for future Coffin shows. Don’t worry, my lips have been sealed.

You give him a small smile when he opens the door to the parking lot. “Okay. Thank you, by the way. I just don’t need anyone in my personal business right now. I just wanna have something to myself.” You look up at him again, nose scrunched. “I want you, to myself.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He yanks the passenger door to his van open for you, and you climb into the seat. Before you’re even buckled in, Eddie’s stepping on the gas pedal, his tires kicking up gravel. “About those sealed lips though,” He starts, and you turn to look at him. His eyes are glued to the road, unblinking. “They’re aching to move, y’know. Wonder if there’s anything else I can be doin’ with ‘em.”

“Huh, sounds like you’re in a predicament.” You play along with his false nonchalance, keeping your tone casual like you can’t feel your heart suddenly slamming against your ribs.

“Guess we’ll have to brainstorm then.” Eddie just shrugs, and you have to look away, out the side window, not risking letting him see the way you’re grinning like an idiot right now.

–

It’s only forty five minutes outside of Hawkins, but Indianapolis feels like a distant land to you sometimes. Your parents had never taken you into the city as a kid, and Chris had never been one to invite his “baby sister” to the shows he and Eddie had frequented as teenagers.

“Where the hell are we going?” You ask finally as Eddie cuts the wheel.

“You’ll see! We’re almost there.” Eddie winks at you, then slams on his brake. “HEY, FUCKHEAD! In no goddamn universe do people turning left have the right of way!” The windows are rolled up, you know the guy can’t hear Eddie’s cursing, but you join him anyway.

“JESUS CHRIST, they’ll give anyone a fuckin’ license!” He then exaggerates his breathing; inhaling deeply through his nose with flared nostrils, blowing out slowly through his mouth. “Okay. I’m zen.”

“Totally.”

“And we’re here!” Eddie pulls his van up to the entrance and you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“Oh my god.” Harry and Izzy’s. “Harry and Izzy’s?!” You whip around to gawk at Eddie, and he’s already got a look of glee on his face. “How did you–” Afford it? That’s rude, Bee. “This is insane.”

“Been savin’ for a rainy day. Turns out sometimes that means a first date with someone you… um, really like.” You feel insane. Eddie Munson is making you insane. “Shall we?”

“Ed, we can’t park here.”

“My dearest, sweetest Bee,” You blush at his cooing. “They do have valet parking here.”

Oh. “Right, yeah. Duh.” Eddie throws his van into park, and immediately an attendant is opening the door to help you out. “Oh. Shit, thanks.”

“Of course, miss.” You try not to betray your disgust at the way the man– or boy, probably no older than eighteen– addresses you. You have no idea how to act in this environment, and you feel like an imposter even setting foot into the restaurant. Once you’re out of the car, he lets your hand go and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Don’t go joyriding now, I know you’ve never seen such a sweet ride.” Eddie pats the kid’s shoulder, and you swear even he cracks a smile. No one can resist the Munson charm, not even snobby frat boy waiters in the city. Eddie skips onto the curb and offers you his arm, which you lace your own through. “Shall we?”

“Why the hell not!” You attempt to keep your nerves hidden, subtly wiping your clammy palm against your thigh. Eddie opens the door, and you let go of him to enter, reluctant to let go of him even for a second. He ends up stuck holding the door for a pair of exiting old ladies, who gush with praise at “The sweet young man holding the door,” and “Handsome, too!” before finally reappearing back at your side at the host stand.

“Welcome to Harry and Izzy’s. Do you have a reservation?” Shit. There’s no way in hell he’d have been able to make a reservation for only a day–

“Munson, party of two?” He leans against the counter, as if to block the waiter’s view of you.

“I’m not seeing–” Something cuts him off, and you pretend not to see Eddie slip the host a fifty dollar bill. Before he can finish his sentence, the guy is changing his tune. “Oh, of course. Right this way, sir.” He snatches two menus from the table top and punches in a few things on his tablet screen before motioning you and Eddie to follow him. Eddie takes your arm again, and you stifle a snicker at the absurdity of your circumstances.

“Emily will be right with you.” He places the menus and silverware down, pours you each a glass of water, and speed walks away before someone can scold him for taking a bribe from two hoodlums.

When he’s out of earshot, you turn back to your date. “You are something else, Munson.”

He shrugs. “Psh, that’s nothin’. You should see me talk my way out of a speeding ticket.”

“At this rate, I’m sure I’ll bear witness to that sooner than later.” You nudge his foot with yours under the table.

“Oh, yeah? Plan on stickin’ around?”

“Well, I mean… I thought that was kinda obvious?”

“The day is young, you still have time to escape.” Though he has a joking lilt in his tone, there’s a sharpness to his words, like he believes them to be necessary. He has to give you the option, the out.

“I’ve got nothin’ else goin’ on.” You shrug, tiptoeing around his offer. “I’ll let you know if that changes. Don’t count on it, though.” The way he looks at you as you talk shakes you a little. “What’re you lookin’ at?” You nudge his foot with yours under the table. Before he can respond, you’re approached by a waitress you can only describe as classically beautiful.

“Welcome to Harry and Izzy’s, my name is Emily. I’ll be takin’ care of y’all this evenin’.” Even the twang in her voice sounds like a crystal bell. When you look at Eddie, though, he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Trying to ignore the butterflies flapping in your gut, you shield your face with the menu. Emily then looks to Eddie, and he finally looks up at this stunning, radiant woman and doesn’t bat an eye. She, however, seems to notice how beautiful Eddie is, because how could you not?

He orders appetizers and drinks with ease, and Emily seems to write at a sloth’s pace, nodding her head without breaking eye contact, and you watch it all over the top edge of the menu.

“Alright, I’ll be right back with y’all’s drinks!” She has the audacity to brush Eddie on the shoulder as she walks away, her perfectly manicured fingers sliding across the fabric of his shirt. At this point, you’ve gnawed a hole in your tongue with how hard you’re biting it. There is no valid reason for the rage you feel for your waitress, you can’t even blame her.

“You alright over there?” Eddie brings you back to the present, and you meet his eyes again.

“Mhm, yeah!” You say, a little too enthusiastically.

Of course, he sees right through you. “What, her? No.” He shakes his head as he laughs, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Oh, please! She wants it, bad. You’re telling me you can’t see that?”

“I only have eyes for you, sweetheart.” He clasps his heart with both hands as he says it, drawing out each word, tone thick with intent. You gulp. “But enough about that. How are you?”

Still reeling from Eddie’s sudden confession, you stutter. “I– um. Hm. I mean,” He stifles a laugh with an exhale, and you join him. “Sorry, this is just so jarring. Kinda hard to do the first date small talk thing when I already know your deepest, darkest secrets.” Emily comes back, placing your drinks in front of you. You’ve chosen to go non alcoholic this time, a freshly squeezed lemonade instead, and Eddie’s ordered a coke.

“Appetizers will be right on out. Y’all need more time with the menu?” She only looks at Eddie, like you’re not even there. For some reason that seems to hurt worse than the fact that she’s hitting on your date.

“Yeah, just a bit. Thanks.” His tone is curt, and it surprises you. Emily doesn’t seem to pick up on that, though, and taps the top of Eddie’s hand this time before walking away. You take a sip of your lemonade and wish for vodka. “Okay, that’s, like, super uncomfortable.” Eddie scratches the back of his neck, averting his gaze to the silverware on the table.

“You want me to say something?” You offer, and immediately wish you hadn’t. It’s not that you can’t confront people. You’re incredible at it, in fact. What scares you is the idea of Eddie watching you do that to someone, even if she has it coming.

“I can’t ask you to do that. If you choose to, however, I will not stop you.”

“Noted.” Permission granted. “She’s coming back. Quick, hold my hand.” You put your hand out on the table, and he grabs it in his just as she returns with the three separate appetizers Eddie’s ordered without your knowledge. There’s an array of finger foods including bacon with root beer glaze, toasted ravioli, and the “world famous” shrimp cocktail. As she sets them down, you catch her staring at your entwined fingers, and her expression softens instantly. You want to laugh, but you want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Alright, what can I getcha?” She perks back up, looking first to you this time. Her smile doesn’t meet her eyes as she looks at you, it looks more like she’s gritting her teeth in pain. Ignoring the way her eyes bore into you, you rattle off your order in a single breath.

“And you, handsome?”

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me.” You blurt, and quickly slap your hand over your mouth to stifle a cackle as Eddie snorts. Emily’s eyes are wide with horror as she looks back at you.

“Pardon me, miss?”

“You see me, right? You know I’m here? You must, you just took my order.”

“I don’t understand–”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, miss, I see you.”

“You see me holding this guy’s hand then?”

“Well, ‘course I do, I–”

“So what the hell are you doing?”

“My job, darlin’! Chattin’ y’all up, workin’ my charm. I don’t see a problem with that. Much easier to fake it when the customers are pretty as him, though.” She winks at you, and your vision tunnels.

“You just flirt with people that are here on dates?”

Emily shrugs. “Makes my day more entertainin’. You got a good one though. Usually they’ll break their necks to look my way.” She looks at Eddie again. “You must love her, huh? How long y’all been together?”

“Oh we’re not–” You and Eddie both rush to correct her, and she laughs. When you don’t join her, she looks between the two of you.

“Seriously? So, you’ve just been in love with her for– wait lemme guess!” She brings her finger up to her chin, tapping as she studies Eddie’s face for clues. “Decade, at least.” You pretend not to catch Eddie’s eyes widen slightly when she says it. “Oh brother, I really stepped in it this time. Sorry, darlin’.” She smiles apologetically at you. “How about a round on me?”

At that offer, Eddie looks at you again and you shrug. “Why the hell not!”

The food is incredible, and things have been sorted with your waitress. The tension has completely disappeared from your bones, save for Emily’s voice on loop in your head: You’ve been in love with her for a decade at least. That can’t be true, can it? The pair of you end up ordering a second round of drinks, and have fallen down a rabbit hole of a conversation.

“So you’re tellin’ me you’ve never seen the Lord of the Rings movies?”

You shake your head, taking the final sip of your cocktail. “Nope, not once. Chris tried getting me to watch at least the original with him, but I fell asleep. Think he was too offended to even bother after that.”

“So your Halloween costume?”

“Was more inspired by the general idea of medieval elves. And Legend of Zelda.”

“Are you, like, completely opposed to the idea of watching them?”

You are absolutely loving the way Eddie’s looking at you right now, like a puppy begging for a treat. “Not entirely. I’m sure you’d be able to convince me.”

“Careful, I am not above groveling.”

“I don’t think I’ll make you do that. This time.” You giggle, and his head falls to his shoulder, smile stretching wider, giving way for deep dimples. You find yourself having to catch your breath after looking at him for too long. “You busy tonight?”

He shakes his head eagerly. “Not even a little.”

“Okay, that settles it. Movie night at yours, maybe I can stay awake long enough this time!”

—

Eddie pays the check without letting you help.

“Oh, c’mon. This place is so expensive, let me at least pay for my food.”

“Absolutely not,” He signs his name on the receipt. “I chose this place on purpose. Had some money saved for a rainy day anyway, this gives me an excuse to splurge.” He drops another fifty in cash on the table as a tip.

“That tip is massive, Ed.”

He shrugs. “She’s the reason you held my hand, gotta thank her somehow.” He says it so casually, but you can feel the tips of your ears warm at his words. “C’mon, doll. I’ve got more planned for us.”

You leave the restaurant with your arms linked, waving to Emily with big smiles and she calls out, “You better hold on to her, baby! She may not know it yet, but she’s head over heels!” You can only smile, unable to stop your facial muscles from betraying you.

Eddie opens the van door for you when the valet brings it to the curb, and you climb in to retreat from the chilly weather. The sun isn’t quite setting yet, but the air has gained a crispness, and you realize you’ve been inside the restaurant for at least a few hours.

“You cold?”

“Little bit. Didn’t expect it to be so cold today.” You shiver, and he gives you a smirk.

“Here,” He starts peeling his jacket from his form, and drapes it over your shoulders. “It’ll look better on you anyway.”

“Such a gentleman all of a sudden?” You poke his bicep and he winces dramatically.

“I’m tryin’ my hardest. You’re makin’ it real hard to be… polite while you’re wearin’ the hell outta that dress, though.” He lowers his voice, though no one’s around to overhear. “Been thinkin’ of how nice you must look underneath it.” You’re usually rather quick on the banter, but you can’t think of a single clever retort. It’s embarrassing, really.

“Slow down there, killer. The night is still young.” You glance at the clock on his dash, blinking 3:45.

“You’re right, I still have plenty of time to seduce you. The Rings movies have a total run time of nine hours.”

“Sorry, NINE?!”

“And three minutes.” He smiles teasingly. “And that’s just the theatrical versions. The extended cuts add up to almost twelve hours.”

“And we’re gonna watch them all? Tonight?”

He shrugs. “We can see where the evening takes up. But first, it’s taking us to the grocery store. For snacks.”

“I’m gonna need a caffeinated beverage if you’re expecting me to watch this entire trilogy with you.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

The automatic doors to the grocery store slide open, and you’re met with the icy cold air of the industrial refrigerators of the dairy aisle immediately to your left. You shrug Eddie’s jacket the rest of the way onto your body and wrap it tightly around your core, surrounding yourself with his scent. Meanwhile, Eddie makes a beeline for the candy aisle, not even bothering to grab a cart or even a hand basket for his goodies.

“You want popcorn too? I might have some at my place but I can grab more just in case.” He’s holding two different brands of microwavable popcorn in front of him, debating on them like he’s voting for president. “This one says extra salty, but this one says extra buttery. Why must we pin two queens against each other?”

You cackle, plucking the extra buttery popcorn out of his hand. “I prefer butter to salt.”

“Then butter it shall be.” He puts the second box back in its spot, and grabs a bag of M&Ms instead. “You want anything to snack on?” You scan the shelves, not necessarily searching for something specific, but you lock onto the brightly colored packaging and snag a bag of gummy bears. He nods in approval. “Good choice. Drinks?”

You nod, and follow him to the back of the store, where they keep the alcohol. He grabs a six pack of Red Stripe for himself, and you choose a four pack of hard seltzer. He scrunches his nose up at your choice.

“What?”

“You like that stuff?”

You shrug. “It’s light enough, doesn’t make me feel like shit afterwards. Tastes less like piss than that does.” Pointing at his beer, you wrinkle your own features in disgust.

“Well, I guess we’ll never have to worry about one of us drinking the other’s alcohol.” Your expression softens at the image of you and Eddie being in a relationship where you keep your drinks in the same fridge. “Okay! Anything else we need?”

“Not yet, but we are absolutely gonna need a few fillings after tonight.”

“Psh, bring it on.”

–

Eddie closes the door to his apartment, setting the bag of snacks on his coffee table before turning to you. “Did you, uh, wanna change? Not that you like, have to. But if you wanna get more comfortable I… have stuff.” His smooth persona seems to have crumbled in the privacy of his home, and he looks at you like you’re glowing: too bright to stare at for extended periods of time.

“Yeah, sure. That would be nice.” Finding yourself wanting to take advantage of his shyness, you follow him into his bedroom, where he motions to his dresser.

“Take anything you want.”

You nod, and yank the top drawer of t-shirts open, letting them spill over the sides of the drawer as you dig for a specific shirt you’re not even sure he still has.

“Aha!” Finally, you yank the fabric from its spot buried in the back, under a plethora of Metallica, Deftones, and Slipknot shirts. “I can’t believe you still have this thing.” Facing him, you hold the shirt up to show him. You had made the shirt for him in middle school, and he had made you a matching one: A collage of old pictures ironed on in a collage on the front of the shirt, with the words “FRIENDS 4EVER” written in sparkly fabric paint. “A relic of its time, really.”

“Jesus christ. Look at this thing.” Eddie yanks the shirt from you and examines it. “We made these for spirit week.”

“Yeah, you didn’t even wear it.” You cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him. “Killed me when you came to class in a hoodie.”

“I will have you know, I was wearing it. I just didn’t take my sweatshirt off. And I wore it to bed that night. And every night from then until, well.” He doesn’t finish, but you can piece it together.

“That doesn’t count!” You argue mostly just to break the tension. “Little me had no idea your grumpy, brooding ass was such a softy. I’m sure she would have killed to.”

“Well, consider my confession a peace offering. A way to make it up to little you.” He takes the shirt from your hands, unbuttoning his own with a quickness that sends heat through your body.

“No laughing.” You had no intention, the flex of his bare muscles far too distracting to do anything but stare. He slides the shirt, which is way too small for Eddie’s current frame, over his head and onto his body before opening his arms. “Tada!”

You know you’re supposed to laugh. Obviously, it’s funny, the shirt being way too small and covered top to bottom in silly pictures of you and him from the ages of five to eleven. But the humor seems to be lost in your throat, because all you can do is watch the way the tight sleeves of the t-shirt hug his arms, making them look bigger. You can see the outline of the tattoo on his ribcage through the shirt, the fabric stretched taut enough to become transluscent. This should not be turning you on.

He clears his throat, and you snap your eyes to his face. “You good?” He yanks his pants down and kicks them to the side, yanking on a pair of sweat pants slung way too low on his waist, leaving a gap between the waistband and the bottom of the shirt, revealing the sliver of skin you’d kill to put your mouth on.

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m great! Movie?” You’re sweating as you move back to his dresser to pick another shirt.

“You want this one?” Eddie moves to take the shirt off, but you’re not sure you can take seeing him bare chested again.

“No! No, that’s alright, you wear it. As an apology. I’ll wear… this one.” You pull a random baseball tee out and hold it to your chest. “That okay?”

Eddie’s pupils are blown wide when you meet them with your own.

“That’s my Hellfire shirt.”

“Oh, I can choose another–”

“No!” He says a little too loudly. “That one’s totally fine.” And he’s blushing. Ball’s back in your court, as easily as you lost it.

“Okay! You wanna unzip me?”

“Sorry, what now?”

“I can’t reach my zipper.” You point to it, on the back of your dress from your neck to your lower back. “Help me out.”

“Oh, right. Sure.” Eddie waits for you to turn your back, and you swear you can hear him exhale as he pinches the zipper between his fingers. He unzips your dress with gentle hands, careful not to linger on your skin too long. Once he’s reached your waist, he hesitates before unzipping it the rest of the way, to your lower back.

“Great, thanks!” You move to slide the garment off your shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Oh, you’re such a baby. Not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” You let the dress fall to the ground, grabbing Eddie’s Hellfire shirt from where it lay on the bed in one hand as you unclasp your bra with the other. You’re certain you hear his breath hitch. “Something wrong?”

He answers too quickly. “No! I’m good! Great, even. Uh, excuse me a sec. Need to. Um. Bathroom.” And he turns on his toes, bolting out of the room and leaving you to snoop through his things.

Slipping his shirt over your head, you move to the top of his dresser, where he’s displayed a few figurines you’re positive he’d made for Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. There are plenty of scary, bloody monsters, and heroic looking knights clad in chain link armor, but one catches your attention. She was obviously painted with care, every detail on her tiny face visible and crisp. Her eyes are the same color as yours, and so is her hair. She’s wearing a dress similar to the one you’d worn on Halloween, and you swear you don’t remember seeing her the last time you were at Eddie’s apartment. Placing her carefully back on the dresser, you move to the desk, facing the window of his room, and cluttered with all sorts of shit: crumpled papers holding half written campaigns, drawings of his characters, and a massive Dungeons notebook with his name scrawled across the front. His shelf is full of vinyl records old and new, each one protected with a layer of plastic. You browse his collection until you find one you recognize, pulling it from its spot in the alphabetical order on the shelf. You carefully release the vinyl from its cover, and place it on the player with a feather light touch. Just as Eddie comes back, you’re dropping the needle on the first side.

“Shit. Good choice.” You turn to where he stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

“Quit starin’, freak.” You throw the word out without any malice, and it bounces off of him with a chuckle.

“Can’t help it, y’just so pretty.” He tilts his head further to the side, eyes still unwavering. “Even cuter in my clothes, I gotta say.”

“What, my clothes aren’t cute enough for you?”

“Your clothes are perfect, doll. I just like how you look in mine. You could wear a garbage bag and still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll take note of that for our next date.” You try not to think about the implications of what you’ve said, but Eddie perks up at the sentiment.

–

Lord of the Rings is definitely not your favorite movie, but you’re willing to watch it if it means Eddie keeps looking at you like he is right now. You know he’s seen the films a million times, but he’s mesmerized watching you react to each scene, watching it play out through your lens instead of his.

At first, you had each claimed a corner of the couch, with Ethel asleep purring in the middle as you passed the bowls of candy and popcorn between each other. As the night progressed, you seemed to migrate closer to each other, eventually ending tangled together, horizontal across the length of the couch. By the end of the first movie, the world around you has gone dark, the sun long past setting as the credits roll. You’re more focused on the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he breathes.

“You still alive?” His voice is barely above a whisper, just in case you’ve dozed off in his arms.

“Shockingly so.” You mumble the response, senses hazy with his smell, his touch, his voice surrounding you, the thumping of his racing heart a soundtrack to the story on screen.

“Got it in ya for another?”

“Only if you can play it without moving. I’m comfy.” You nuzzle your head against his chest as if to prove your point.

Without making you get up, Eddie grabs the remote from the coffee table. A few clicks later, and the titles flash across the screen. With his free hand, Eddie traces down your back absentmindedly, fingers feather light as he taps your spinal cord along to the opening sequence. Feeling bold, you scoot your body up the length of his, positioning your head to reach the crook of his neck, where you rest your lips against the soft spot on his throat. You’re driving him crazy, and it’s emboldening you.

He chuckles under your touch. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Hm?” You peck kisses across his neck, losing focus on the movie, hypnotized by the softness of Eddie’s skin. “I’m not doin’ anything.”

He smells a little different tonight, more pine and less smoke. You melt with the sweetness in his voice as he talks to you, like honey in hot tea to soothe a sleepless night. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” His words sound like a blissful defeat. It’s not worth trying to convince you to watch the movie when you’re touching him like this, and it’s obvious he knows it, too.

“You can’t die on me now, I still have so much more of you I wanna kiss.”

“You cannot be sayin’ shit like that to me.” Voice shaking, Eddie speaks through clenched teeth. “Gonna make a damn fool of myself if you keep it up.”

“Yeah? How so?” You tease, feeling slightly evil, nipping at his earlobe. “You’ve been behaving pretty well so far.”

“‘M trying so hard to be a gentleman here.” He tenses each time your nose grazes his skin, breath ragged.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to break your concentration.” You peck a kiss on his jawline. “I think it’s working, too.”

“Alright. Fuck it. Jesus Christ.” The switch on Eddie’s caution is flipped instantly, he grabs you by the waist to pull you fully on top of him, completely horizontal. Giggles slip past your lips as he mouths at your neck, sucking and biting the skin there, claiming revenge for your teasing. With a careful hand, Eddie slips his way under your shirt, sliding calloused fingers up your back. “How d’you like it, hm?”

“Hm, almost as if this—,” you interrupt yourself with a sigh when he soothes a particularly harsh bite with a flat tongue. “was my plan the whole time.”

Underneath you, Eddie’s stopped his assault on your neck, his whole body now shaking with contagious laughter, loud and unabashed.

“What is so funny?”

“I’m a fuckin’ moron.” He untucks himself from your neck to look you in the eyes. He’s squished into the cushion to leave space between his nose and yours, and you poke at the skin under his chin as he tries not to laugh again.

“What makes you say that?” You’re too busy enjoying the way he’s holding you to see the way he’s looking at you, but you can feel it. His eyes are boring into yours with the weight of the entire world behind them. It’s freaking you out, honestly.

“I went way too hard on the first date, I’m never gonna be able to top this.” You try not to snort at the double entendre. “I can’t take you to fancy restaurants regularly. And you deserve to be treated like that.”

“Eddie,” You soften as you look at him finally, and you have to stop yourself from kissing the pout from his lips. “I don’t care about that shit, you have to know that.”

“Maybe not, but you should be treated like this all the time. I’m not the guy to do it for you.” The sudden sadness in his voice sends a stutter through your chest.

“You’re right. You are a moron.” You patronize, and his eyes widen, startled. “That’s not the part of tonight that made it special, Eds. I wouldn’t have cared if we sat on this couch and watched these ridiculous movies all day. It’s the fact that you planned something with me in mind. You cared enough to put something together, and you followed through. That’s what makes it a good date.” You plant a kiss on his nose, and before you can pull away, Eddie’s in motion. His free hand flies, whacking the popcorn bowl from the coffee table in the process, but doesn’t even stop to laugh and rests it on your cheek. He gently guides your face back to his, lips slotting easily into place against yours as his breath rattles his body.

“I can be your moron, if you like.” He says after breaking the kiss, and you take the opportunity to admire the way his skin has flushed, obvious even in the blue TV light.

“Ask me again in the morning. We’re both a little drunk.” Not really, but the idea of putting a label on it this late into the night makes it feel less serious, and more like sleep-induced insanity.

“Okay. I’ll set an alarm.” And he’s kissing you again with a new urgency, and you lose yourself in it. At some point it’s not enough to just be kissing him, so you slot yourself between him and the couch, pulling both of you onto your sides. In this new position, you’re able to more easily wrap yourself around him, sliding one arm underneath and the other around his waist. Taking the hint, Eddie slides his knee between your legs, notching deliciously against the thin layer of cloth covering your core. It takes everything in you not to grind against him like a bitch in heat.

“Use it.” You must be hearing things, you’re exhausted. “Get off. Use me. I wanna watch you.” He’s whispering these insane things between tender kisses, slow and lazy as the knot underneath your navel tightens. As if to daze you further, he slips his hand under your shirt again, resting firmly on your waist, guiding your hips to move against him. Your clit catches on the bone of his knee, clouding your ability to contain yourself. You kiss him again, hungrily as the lower half of your body moves longingly against his, fully out of your control.

And if that isn’t enough, Eddie moves to your throat again, marking it between whispers of sweet, dripping nothings.

“Doin’ so well, baby. You sound so pretty.” As you whimper each time your clit drags against him. His hand slides to your stomach, inching its way further up until his thumb rests just under your tit, halting as it waits for your permission.

You answer him with a broken “Please!” and he wastes no time grazing over your nipple, stiffening as he touches you, massaging it between his fingers as you moan desperately above him.

“Eddie, I’m gonna,” You don’t finish your sentence, he cuts you off, moving back to kiss your lips as you come undone, writhing against him.

“Shit. Fuck,” You huff the words between heavy breaths, coming back down only to realize the space between you and Eddie is much wetter than can be explained just by you. “Did you—?”

Eddie nods before you can finish your question. “Of course I did. That was fuckin’ hot.” Eddie’s out of breath too. “Now, as much as I’d like to stay here, I need to change my pants. Be right back.” He places a quick kiss to your forehead before stumbling clumsily onto his feet. You can only lay there, staring at his ceiling, replaying the last ten minutes in your head with a horribly cheesy smile on your face.

“I am so fucked!”

—

[everybondyoubreak]

every bond you break

Chapter 2: Georgia on My Mind

pairing: joel miller x female reader chapter summary: You and Ellie become closer and questions about your past start to come up. Joel confronts you to ask what your deal is.

tags: slowburn, seriously, like super slooowburn, mutual pining, blood & gore, tension, competence kink, enemies to friends to lovers, reader is age-appropriate, overprotective joel, eventual smut, eventual romance, found family

AO3 link here

A/N: I have the other chapters uploaded on AO3 for now! Trying to catch up and post the other chapters on here too. Thank you all for the likes and nice comments!

“You ever read this?” You called out to Ellie, holding up a water-logged copy of The Golden Compass. She popped her head above the bookshelves and made a face, “Hell no! You could hit someone on the head and kill them with that thing. How many pages are in that?”

This was your fifth supply run with Ellie and the rest of the crew. Things were going well, the two of you operated with a particular synchronicity. She’d stick by your side, making a two-person assembly line as you sorted through these abandoned places. Every so often, you’d pick up an item to gauge her interests.

For this particular week, Will had brought you all to an abandoned strip mall further out west. Most of the storefronts surrounding the parking lot were unrecognizable. You could still make out the tracings of a sign that once spelled out “Barnes & Noble”. You called dibs and dragged Ellie inside, promising that they also sold comics in these bookstores.

“Think the copy I had at home was about…400 pages?” You flicked open the book in your hands. The page numbers were smudged and illegible. The text itself though was still readable. “It was good.”

Ellie’s eyebrows raised, “When and why were you reading that?”

“Middle school,” You smiled, “For fun, I was a bit of a dork as a kid. Kinda like you now!”

“Ha-ha…” Ellie glared at you through a gap in the bookshelves.

“What? It’s not a bad thing, I was a lot more fun as a kid too.”

Ellie stepped out of the bookshelves and began hovering closer to you, “Well, what happened?”

You looked up at the dusty ceiling to recollect your thoughts. “I was very concerned about looking ‘cool’ once I got to high school.” You passed a book to her to survey, “Then you know, the world ended. You grow up pretty fast once that happens.” The next book you picked up you immediately tossed into your bag to bring back to Jackson. Webster’s Dictionary and Thesaurus, 2002 Edition. Could be useful.

Ellie tossed one of the paperbacks over her shoulder into the reject pile building in the corner, “So…what was considered ‘cool’ then? You know, back in your time?”

“Back in my time…” You grumbled. She looked up at you with a mischievous grin, “What? I’m curious! Like, what did you do all day?”

The question stumped you for a second. When the world went to shit, all you ever thought for about for years was the future that had been stolen from you. The past was painful and filled with broken promises. You decided it to be easier to just forget it and focus on the "now". Yet, as meditative as living in the present sounds, it can become dissociative without moderation. Now, you were scrambling for any semblance of who you once were.

Some things came to mind. “Well, I was on the equestrian team. I’d do fencing with my brother.”

“Did you just make a bunch of words up? What is a-quest-train team?”

Your realization of Ellie’s situation snapped your self-pity in half. She had no semblance of what life used to be. No idea of what the world was or what it was supposed to be for her. All she had were these strange scraps of a society. These words and concepts from your old life never made it into this one.

“Well, the equestrian team was a fancy word for horseback riding,” Ellie’s head tilted in confusion, “And fencing—actually you’d probably like it…it was basically sword-fighting.”

“What, like a pirate?” She exclaimed. You gave a half-smile and shook your head,  “Sort of. We’d use these really skinny swords and wear this heavy protective gear, it was more like fake-fighting.”

Ellie looked disappointed, disappearing her face into a comic book she found earlier. You kept quiet and sorted around for more items to bring along.

“What were you doing alone for twenty years?” She asked, her voice surprisingly timid.

You kept your eyes on the books at first and continued sorting through, “What do you mean?”

“You weren’t like, alone for all that time, were you?” Her tone teetering between curious and cautious. You turned to look at her and saw her big eyes holding onto you closely.

“No, I had my family with me for a while,” You said lowly, “Then it kind of came down to me and my dad. We had visitors here and there. People like Maria and her father. They kept in touch, my dad helped her dad with setting this place up in Jackson.”

A memory set upon you suddenly. Times when you were stuck accompanying your father on these visits or “very important” meetings. He’d boss you around, making you wait outside locked rooms where he was in deep discussions for hours. 

You didn’t want Ellie to feel that way. Shut out.

You tried to let her in a little more.

“My dad worked with a lot of people to try to ‘rebuild the future’” you took a deep breath in, “It obviously didn’t work.”

“Was your dad a Firefly?”

“No.” You asserted, trying to find a way to politely end this conversation. But you could tell Ellie was still looking to hear more, “He was…very supportive of their cause though, finding a cure.”

Your voice came out wobblier than intended. Ellie was sensible enough to stop asking at this point. The young girl started rubbing her nose nervously, she stood up and walked across the room, “I’m gonna check out the…DVD section down over there.”

"That's fine." You weren't sure who you were asserting that fact to. 

The rest of the time, you both searched in silence. Separately.

-

Later in the day, you all arrived back in Jackson at sundown. Everyone began to head off to their respective families waiting nearby. Before Ellie ran off, you quickly tapped her on the shoulder, “Hey.”

She looked up solemnly. You handed her the copy of The Golden Compass you found earlier, “Take it, I’ve read it a million times already.”

She gave a soft smile, “Uh, thanks.” Her eyes wandered about, her attention obviously elsewhere.

“You don’t have to read it.” You added. Ellie shook her head, “No, no, it’s nice, really. Sorry...I just got tired earlier. I’m having trouble sleeping here still.”

“Well, I could give you a longer, more boring book to read then, maybe that’ll help you fall asleep.”

Her smile widened, “I’ll let you know. Thanks again.” Something else seemed to come over her, as she suddenly wrapped her free arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick hug. The surprise burst of affection sent you into a brief shock.

You tried to recover quickly. Patting her awkwardly on the back was your best response. In a low voice, you could hear her say, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

There were a million things you wanted to respond to her. But you settled on a quick, “Thanks”. She broke apart, your hand lingering on her shoulder as she ran off.

“See you next week!” You called out, watching her run off to Joel in the distance. Even from this far away, you could feel his gaze locked on you. Was he watching this interaction the whole time?

Your rumination on his surveillance was broken by Will’s mention of your name. You looked over at him, “Hm?”

“I was just saying you’ve been doing great.” He nodded off in Ellie’s direction, “Especially dealing with her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “She’s been great to work with, actually.” Will shrugged, “I’m just saying, I told Maria she should really think about adding you to patrols.”

A part of you was excited to hear this, but you found your pride overpowered by a newer, stranger feeling, “What, why?”

“You could still do the supply runs. I just think you have a good eye. You know how to look out for others. Decent with a gun too.”

“Will, you saw me shoot a gun once,” You added, “And that…thing I shot was tied up.”

Sure, you had killed infected loads of times. You had been doing it for years. Always alone though. It was still taking time to get used to working with people again. Now, you realized you also had to get used to caring about other people again on top of that.

What if that infected from your first day hadn’t been tied up? What if it had attacked Ellie? Who would be the one to handle that? 

“I’ll think about it. I think...I just need more training.”

Will nodded, “Yeah, of course, we’ll have you do some practice. I can ask Tommy about setting something up.”

You nodded, and the two of you walked over to the stables to put the horses away.

-

Will gave a quick goodbye and “See you next week!” as he hurried home for the evening, leaving you alone with the horse you’d been riding the past month.

The first week or two, you had privately named your designated horse Georgia. She had a reddish-orange coat that reminded you of a ripe peach. The other day, you realized her true name, Misty. It had been carved on her stall door this whole time.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of the carving. You liked the name Georgia for her better.

As you took off the horse’s gear, you began humming the song “Georgia on My Mind”. You hung up her saddle and sauntered back to the horse. With everyone gone for the evening, you wanted to take your alone time out here slowly and sweetly. You began stroking the horse’s mane, singing softly as you patted her snout.

A low voice came from behind you, yanking you out of your trance, “What do you want?”

You peered around the stall, spotting Joel in the doorway of the barn. He was leaning against the door frame, so casual in contrast to his demanding tone.

You kept your hand firmly placed on Misty, trying to hide the fact that your hand was trembling, “What do you want?”

“You know what I mean by that.” He snapped back.

“I don’t actually. ‘Cause I’m not a fuckin’ mindreader.” You held your hands up in the air as if to convey your innocence, your literal empty-handedness. Joel looked around you cautiously, as if you had fire coming out of your fingers.

Maybe you were delusional, but you refused to consider him a threat. Your defenses took over.

You stepped towards him and tried to take charge, “What exactly is the issue here? And why are you cornering me at night like a weirdo about it?”

Something was rocking around inside you now, conflicted between getting even closer to him or getting the fuck away from him. He placed his gaze on you, “Maria told me about you.”

Your ears prickled. It was your turn to talk now, but you knew to keep it brief, “Oh, really?”

“Tommy, too. Told me about your father.”

Your mind pulled back to Ellie’s questioning from earlier today. Curiosity was contagious. You wondered who caught it first, Joel or Ellie?

You got closer, feeling the front of your face tighten, “What did they tell you about my father?” Looking up at him, your chin pointing up like a knife to his throat. 

His voice lowered as he looked down at you, “I don’t need you tellin’ Ellie about this high and mighty Firefly shit-”

“I haven’t told her a fucking thing!” You yelled right in his face. One of the horses in the other stalls cried out, clearly just as spooked as you were. 

The conversation in the bookstore was the first time you had mentioned anything regarding the Fireflies to Ellie. You hadn’t said a single good word about the Fireflies and you never would. To anyone.  The truth of that shot straight up your spine.

For the slightest second, you saw him falter. You could see the depths of his brown eyes waver.  His gaze still held onto yours, searching inside for the slightest hint of insincerity. You stood there, letting him take it all in with no sign of deception. He suddenly shook his head, ending your staredown, “Why does she keep asking me about them then?”

“I don’t know, Joel. Talk to her, she’s curious.” You stated, “She’s allowed to learn about the world we live in.”

“I’m fully aware of that fact-” He growled, lifting himself off the door frame to stand taller above you.

“Are you? I’m not too sure of that…” You side-stepped him, slipping through the doorway to make your escape.

You were about to storm off to safety, but you stopped to turned back around. Thankfully, he didn't seem to want to chase after you. He was still standing in that stupid barn, the lantern’s glow beaming behind him. The light streaming out covered his features, making him just a silhouette in the doorway. A shadow that seemed to just keep following you.

“Since you seem so interested in my father, Joel, let me give you some insight,” You took a deep breath, ready to blow,  “The whole controlling, obsessive thing you seem to have going on with your daughter? Doesn’t end well!”

You spun back around and charged off. The tears in your eyes made the whole walk home a blur. When finally made it inside your house, you kept your clothes on and laid on your bed, staring out the window until you finally fell asleep.

In your dreams, you dreamt of doors again. It was the closet door in Wilson Valley, but this time it opened to lead into the basement of your father’s house. You knew where it would lead you to. At the far end of the basement awaited a vaulted door.

You knew what was behind it.

And you knew you could never open it.

[astralfms]

she  takes  a  look  around  the  space,  maisie's  clothing  sprawled  about  (  per  usual  ),  a  dumbfounded  look  taking  over  her  features.  “why  do  i  leave  my  stuff  out  ?  okay,  are  we  having  the  same  conversation  ?”  she's  positive  that  they  aren't,  shaking  her  head  as  if  to  clear  it.  “cats  have  litter,  humans  also  make  litter.  that's  what  they  call  discarding  items  where  they  don't  belong.  you  know,  how  you  litter  your  clothes  all  over  the  place  ?”

“  if  you  like  to  clean  up  trash  why  do  you  leave  your  stuff  out  then  ?  ”  maisie  couldn't  help  the  dig  ,  a  grin  forming  as  she  brushes  her  blonde  curls  over  one  shoulder  .  easy  peasy  .  “  why  would  anyone  call  it  litter  if  it's  trash  ?  i  think  you're  getting  it  mixed  up  .  cats  have  litter  .  humans  have  trash  .  ” 

[sysig]

Let’s Geckin’ Gooooooo! (Patreon)