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jensengirl83 · 2 days ago

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Pining In The Pines

Dean x reader

Word count-3843

Warnings- Angst, some fluff

Summary- Y/N and the boys have to go on a hunt in her old hometown. She's not happy to go home, and especially not when Dean makes a comment that brings up bad memories. How will she take it? And will Dean be able to make it right?

A/N- This fills my Secret Passageway square for @jacklesversebingo

First, I suck at summaries 😂 Second, this fic is a little self-indulgent. I've written it about where I'm actually from and the stigma about the people in this area. I really hope you like it!

“So, get this,” Sam started the conversation as he looked at his laptop.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest. It never failed. When he found a hunt, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘So, get this.’ That’s how she and Dean knew to stop and pay attention. He had something they needed to hear. So, she tried to contain her laughter and give Sam the attention he wanted.

“Y/N…Do you have to laugh every single time?” Sam groaned but didn’t wait for a response, continuing with what he wanted to say, “There’s supposedly been a Wendigo spotted in Morehead, Kentucky. Homeowners caught it on their security camera for their driveway.”

“Morehead…Isn’t that close to where you grew up, sweetheart?” Dean wondered, looking over at the huntress beside him.

“It’s a few counties over, but yeah, it’s close enough. Did you say there was footage?” she questioned, leaning forward to look at Sam’s laptop as he spun it around for her and Dean to see.

Her breath caught in her throat as Dean put his hand on her lower back as he leaned forward to watch the video. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen in love with the eldest Winchester. But how was she supposed to be around him, living in the bunker with him, and not fall head over heels?

It was true that he had a temper, could be a real grump, and be downright mean sometimes. But, over the years, she’d learned that his temper flared most when someone he cared about was in danger. He would be grumpy when the weight of the world had gotten almost too heavy to bear, and he tried to push it down and keep it bottled up. He was mean when he thought he needed to push someone he cared about away because he was the one putting them in danger. To her, that was just the sign of a man who had been hurt, a man who loved deeply, one who cared so much that the thought of losing someone he loved was unbearable. So, how was she not going to fall for him at some point?

But that’s as far as it went. She would never admit her feelings. She couldn’t. The likely rejection would be her end, and she would have to leave the bunker. She’d rather pine for him in tortuous silence than not have him in her life at all. So, as always, she shoved her feelings back down, focusing on the screen in front of her, and prepared for the hunt she knew was coming.

“Earth to Y/N,” Dean nudged her, clearly seeing she was in her own little world.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching,” she rolled her eyes, trying to hide that she was fantasizing about the green-eyed Adonis.

“Where was that pretty little head of yours?” he teased, his words making her heart ache. If only he really thought that way.

“Just thinking of what I’ll need to pack. ‘Cause we’re clearly going to Kentucky, am I right?” she lied, hoping they would buy it.

“Yeah, we have to check this out. I’ve never heard of a Wendigo this far east before,” Sam answered, getting Dean’s attention away from her. Thank Chuck.

“There’s a lot of things in the Appalachian mountains that no one knows about. Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in those woods alone after dark,” she shivered at the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark?” Dean tried to tease, but she gave him a stern look that made him think twice.

“You should know that I’m not scared of the dark. I follow you into some of the darkest, creepiest places on earth. But, I grew up there, Dean. It’s not even just the monsters you have to worry about. I mean, there are bears, mountain lions, wolves…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention some of the crazy people that live in those mountains.

“Okay, okay,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it.”

“You better. You have to keep your head on a swivel while we’re in the woods. I’d hate to have to save your sorry ass from the real-life Yogi Bear,” she winked, “Because your ass will be the picnic basket.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed at her sarcasm as Sam laughed. Even though she was crazy in love with him, she could give him shit right back. And to be honest, she thoroughly enjoyed frustrating him. As she saw it, it was payback for him making her love him in the first place. She continued to chuckle as she went to her room to pack. Y/N didn’t like the thought of going home. Too many memories she’d like to forget. But duty calls, so she was packing her bags for the long drive to southeast Kentucky.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I highly doubt there’s a Wendigo here. They don’t stay in the wide-open woods,” Dean complained while trekking through the mountains.

“Dean, do you not know anything about the topography of Kentucky?” Y/N asked, shaking her head in annoyance. He’d been in a mood all day.

“Yes, sweetheart. I spend all my free time studying the layout of a state I rarely ever visit,” his sarcasm made her want to smack him in the head.

“Well, dear,” she said just as sarcastically, “Kentucky is known for its underground cave systems. You know, Mammoth Cave. One of the biggest cave systems in the world…”

“Of course! Because spelunking is high on my to-do list!”

“Oh! Look at him, Sam. He’s using big boy words like spelunking. I’m so proud of you, Dean!” she half shouted at him. Trying to keep her voice down so as not to attract unwanted attention to whatever was out there.

“Guys! Knock it off. We’re here to kill a Wendigo. Not for you two to kill each other!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“She started it,” Dean whined, acting like a child.

“Fuck off, Dean,” she growled as she walked ahead of them. Leading them to the caves she knew were close.

Y/N ignored the bickering between the brothers behind her as she made her way through the trees. She loved Dean, but today, she thought about leaving him in one of the caves they found. He’d been an ass since they woke up at the motel, and she couldn’t figure out what had his boxers in a bunch. They’d had to share a bed, but she didn’t think he’d be that pissed about that, but she wouldn’t put anything past him at that point. But, whatever it was, it tempted her to make him Wendigo lunch.

“Slow down, Y/N. We’re not born and raised hillbillies like you are. It’s taking us a little longer to navigate this hellscape,” Dean yelled, grumbling under his breath about her getting too far ahead.

Y/N froze. That was the last straw. Yes, she’d been born and raised in the area, but that word…Hillbilly. She’d been trying to get rid of that stigma since she left the mountains, and now hearing Dean, the man she loved, call her that derogatory term was too much to take.

“Let me tell you something, asshole! Yeah, I grew up here, but I’m not a fucking hillbilly! I’ll have you know not everyone who lives in Appalachia are backwoods, uneducated, rednecks! So, take that term, and shove it straight up your ass!” she screamed, her anger boiling over into dangerous territory.

Before either of the boys could say a word, a guttural, terrifying growl tore through the darkening woods. Y/N spun around to see what they’d been there to find. The Wendgio was only about thirty feet behind her, moving in quickly. Sam shouted for her to get behind him, breaking her out of her stupor. Once she’d cleared his line of sight, Sam grabbed his homemade flamethrower, flicking his lighter to ignite it, but nothing happened. He tried again but to no avail. Y/N’s screams tore through the night air…

“Run! Follow me!”

The boys were quick at her heels as she weaved them in and out of the trees and underbrush. Dean couldn’t help but think about how impressed he was at her agility in that terrain. He could tell she’d grown up here and knew her way around, which brought him to his next thought. How guilty he felt for saying what he had. But now was not the time to apologize. Right now, he had to concentrate on not losing sight of her and getting shredded to pieces by the monster on their tails.

“Here! Guys, hurry!” she shouted, an old moonshining cabin in her sight.

Once she reached the cabin, she flung open the door, waiting for the boys to enter before slamming it shut, silently praying that the rickety lock would hold just long enough to devise a plan.

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean asked, hands on his knees as he panted for breath.

“I don’t know! The flamethrower has never not worked before,” Sam answered with the same labored breathing as his brother.

“Well, we can figure that out later. Now, we need to figure out how to stay alive!” Y/N yelled, panic starting to set in.

“Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll be okay,” Dean tried to calm her down, but she was still too angry with him.

“Don’t! Do not ‘sweetheart’ me! You had no right to talk to me like that!”

“Look, swe- Y/N, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why that made you so mad,” Dean spoke as he looked around the cabin for something to use as a makeshift weapon.

“That was a shit apology, Winchester. Just…just don’t speak to me until we get out of this mess,” she groaned, then mumbled, “If we live through this mess.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted, getting her attention, “We are getting out of this. Don’t talk like that.”

“Can you tell me how you plan to get us out of here? Cause I don’t see another way out except through the door that Wendigo is now trying to beat down!”

As she walked toward Dean, her foot almost went through the floor, or at least it felt like it. She stopped, pushing down with her foot one more time. The bounce under her foot had her laughing loudly, and the boys looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Dean spoke as she started to rip the rug she stood on out of the way.

“Care to tell us what you find so funny?”

“This!” she continued to laugh in relief as she pointed to the hatch in the floor where she’d been standing, “It’s our way out!”

“How do you know that? It could be just an old cellar,” Sam asked, walking over to inspect what she’d found.

“Well, as Dean so nicely put it, us hillbillies would dig secret passageways to transport the moonshine back and forth without the police seeing them. They almost always lead to an abandoned coal mine or cave opening. Sometimes other cabins.”

“Y/N, come on, I tried to apologize. I didn’t know it would upset you that much,” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Well, it did, and…” she started to argue when Sam interrupted them.

“Maybe you two can finish this fight once we know we’re not going to die? Let’s go!”

Y/N and Dean simultaneously rolled their eyes. Sam would have told them they were two peas in a pod if they weren’t in such a hurry to save their asses. Y/N was the first one down the ladder, explaining that she’d be their best bet for not getting completely lost underground, and neither brother disagreed. Dean followed, with Sam on his heels. Once they were underground, Y/N led the way, and the boys were impressed with how well she could get around in the tunnels.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean was going to ask if she really knew where she was going, but before he could open his mouth, they turned a corner and could see a light up ahead in the tunnel's ceiling. Y/N was climbing the ladder through another hatch before Dean knew what was happening. Maybe her nickname should be Squirrel instead of him, he chuckled to himself. As the last brother made it out of the tunnel and into another cabin, Y/N slammed the hatch, pushing an old, heavy piece of furniture over it. Luckily, this one was still quite furnished, with beds still in the bedrooms and an old couch in front of a fireplace.

“This is home until morning,” she stated, looking around, finding, albeit dusty, pillows and blankets in a closet.

“Better than nothing,” Sam shrugged, walking into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door, leaving only one bedroom for her and Dean.

“Looks like we’re sharing again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah, take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” she whispered, not looking at him. Damn, she was still mad.

“I’m not taking a bed and putting you on an old debilitated couch, Y/N.”

“It’s fine. My adrenaline is still too high to sleep. Besides, I’ll keep watch so you can get some rest. You have to drive us back to the bunker tomorrow. I can sleep in the car.”

“Y/N…”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. Please, just take the bed. I’m too tired to argue,” she almost begged, wanting to be alone.

“I thought you said you weren’t tired?” he smirked, trying to joke, but she wasn’t having it.

“I’m mentally exhausted. I just need time to myself to wind down. Now, please, go get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning,” she pleaded, the look on her face breaking his heart. He had really hurt her with what he said.

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night,” he said dejectedly, knowing it would be a sleepless night. His guilt would make sure of it.

“Night,” she replied, turning her back to him, sitting down on the couch, staring out the window, never glancing his way. The click of the door made her wince as Dean went to bed.

Sleepless night was an understatement. Dean’s eyes didn’t close once as he lay there thinking how wrong the day had gone. He and Y/N had argued since their feet hit the floor that morning. Him being an ass was the reason for it. He hated fighting with her, but when he woke that morning, she was curled up at his side, her head on his chest. Usually, a man wouldn't complain about having a beautiful woman wrapped around him, but it tends to put you in a pissy mood when it’s a woman you love but can’t have.

Dean was ass over tea kettle for Y/N, but he’d never tell her that. She deserved so much better than being saddled with a man who could barely stand his own company most days. He drank too much, and he wasn’t good at communicating how he felt. He knew that. Sam had told him many times he needed to learn to open up, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the shitshow that was his mind. Especially her. So, as with his other emotions, he pushed his love for her deep and tried to ignore it. Lately, that hadn’t been working so well. As he lay there telling himself all the reasons he couldn’t have her, a sound caught his attention. He tiptoed to the door, cracking it slowly, and what he saw had him rushing out the door.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he quizzed her as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. Her sobs were what he’d heard.

“I’m fine, Dean. Go back to bed,” she hiccuped through her tears. She couldn’t tell him the full truth.

“Obviously, you are the opposite of fine. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, placing her chin between his thumb and index finger to turn her face to him, “Is this about today?”

“Partially,” she admitted, trying to turn her head back to the window, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. I know I was being an ass, but I had no idea it would hurt your feelings like that. Can you explain to me why? I’m not trying to fight. I honestly don’t understand.”

“I’ve tried to get rid of the ‘hillbilly’ stigma since I left this place. It's always the same thing whenever someone finds out where I’m from. There’s this image people have about people from the Appalachian mountains that just aren’t true. We’re not a bunch of ignorant, uneducated people who live deep in the woods and never come out. Unfortunately, movies and TV shows have depicted us in such a bad light that most people think that’s all we are. And when that term comes from the man you…” she gasped, catching what she almost said. But Dean caught it as well.

“The man you what, Y/N?” he asked, holding his breath. Was she about to admit what he thought? Maybe, just maybe, he could try to be better, be the man she deserved if she loved him too.

“Dean…” she whimpered, trying to turn away from him again, but he wasn’t letting her go now.

“Uh uh, say it. Say it, Y/N,” he pleaded, his eyes staring into hers, “Were you going to say the man you loved?”

“Yes! Okay? I was going to say the man I loved!” she shouted in frustration as she jumped from the couch, finally breaking Dean’s hold on her, “Now, go ahead and tell me that you don’t see me that way, tell me that you don’t want me, so I can prepare to pack my shit and leave when we get back to the bunker. Because I can’t stay there and see you every day after your rejection. I just can’t.”

Dean stood and walked to her as she stood staring out the window, her back to him after her confession. He touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Her look of sadness and despair nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He thought having his heart literally ripped out would hurt less than seeing her like this. He slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. A tear trickled down her face as she closed her eyes at his touch, and he swiped it away with his thumb.

“Is that what you want me to tell you, or do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked softly, waiting for her to open her eyes, which didn’t take a split second. Her eyes went wide.

“What are you saying?” she uttered shakily.

“I’m saying that I love you, too, Y/N. I have for a long time.”

“But, but,” she stuttered, trying to find her words, “You were so mad at me when we woke up this morning. That isn’t how someone acts when they love the person in bed with them.”

“Sweetheart, I was mad because I opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen curled up against me, and all I could think was how I wanted it to mean something, and I didn’t think it ever would. If I’m being honest, you could do so much better. And thinking I’d never have you that way pissed me off because I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you, Y/N. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and I fall asleep picturing you beside me. I know I’m not a good man, and there’s someone out there that could and would give you more than I’ll ever be able to, but if you really love me, I’m going to be selfish for one time in my fucking life and ask you to give me a chance. I can guarantee that I’m going to piss you off and probably hurt your feelings again, but it will never be intentional. So, what do you say? You want to give us a shot?” He poured his heart out to her, leaning his forehead against hers as he waited for an answer.

“Dean, contrary to what you believe, you are a good man. You love with your whole being and fiercely protect those lucky enough to get that love. I know you don’t believe you deserve it, but you deserve the world, Dean Winchester, and I’d be honored to be the one to try and give it to you.”

“Really?” he asked with a million-watt smile, leaning back to look her in the eye.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she returned his smile, both sighing in relief.

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately.

The kiss was better than either had imagined, and they both poured the love they felt for the other into it. They stayed that way until the need to breathe became too much, pulling away with smiles. He pulled her into a hug, laying his head on top of hers. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Dean broke the silence.

“So, you want to move your stuff into my room when we get back?

“I don’t know, Dean,” she pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip, “I really think we need to take this as slowly as possible. Make sure that we’re going to last.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he agreed, his heart clenching at the hurt he felt.

“I’m just joking,” she laughed, poking him in the ribs, “You’re not going to get rid of me now!”

“Damn it, Y/N! That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, not finding her joke all that funny.

“I think I’m hilarious,” she smirked up at him.

“You’re something, alright. Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We have a lot of packing to do when we get home,” he suggested, leading her toward the bedroom, “You have a lot of shit. I don’t know where we’re going to put it all.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “Well, we could always get rid of your vinyl collection to make room.”

“Hey! Those are fighting words,” he growled playfully, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip.

“Bring it on, old man,” she cackled as his eyes shot up his forehead in shock.

“I’ll show you an old man!” he said in faux anger, chasing her into the bedroom.

All that could be heard as the bedroom door shut was the laughter and playful banter between the new couple, and that’s how it stayed for the years to come.

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mapiforpresident · 2 days ago

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Together Always

Patri x reader x Pina

The press conference was over, but the sting from one question lingered in the back of your mind. You had been doing your best to keep your composure, answering the usual questions about the match and upcoming plans. But then, out of nowhere, the reporter had thrown in something personal, something cutting: "So, how does it feel to be in a relationship with two teammates? Do you think the pressure affects your performance on the field, or is it more of a distraction?"

The entire room had gone silent, a few journalists exchanging glances, waiting for your reaction. Your throat had tightened for a second, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn't give them what they wanted, couldn't let them see how much it hurt to be reduced to a headline instead of being seen for who you truly were.

You had given a polite, vague answer about how your relationship had nothing to do with your professional life, that your focus was always on the game. But inside, it felt like the walls were closing in, and all you wanted was to escape.

After the game Patri and Claudia had stayed on the field, still interacting with fans, while you had gone to do a post match interview. You slipped out of the press conference room as soon as the interview was over. You didn’t want to make a scene, not here, not in front of everyone. You just needed a moment. Just a moment to breathe.

The locker room was empty when you walked in, the sounds of from the stadium fading behind you. You quickly dressed into your sweats and shoved your kit into your bag, trying to stay focused. But the question from the press conference echoed in your mind, mocking you, prodding at the insecurities you had spent so long trying to bury.

How does it feel to be in a relationship with two teammates? Is it a distraction? Are you some kind of problem?

You sat down on the bench, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to tie your shoes. Your chest tightened, and before you could stop it, the tears started to fall—silent, hot, and too much to ignore.

You hadn’t expected it to hit this hard, not after everything. You had always known that being in a relationship with Patri and Pina would come with judgment, with people questioning the validity of what you shared. But hearing it so openly in front of the press, with everyone listening— it made it real in a way it hadn’t been before. The sting was sharper than you expected.

You barely even heard the locker room door open, too lost in your thoughts, until you heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, are you okay?" Mapi's voice broke through the fog in your mind.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until Mapi’s sharp gaze softened. She stood in front of you now, her eyes narrowing with concern as she took in your red-rimmed eyes and the way your shoulders were hunched, like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

Ingrid appeared behind her, glancing between you and Mapi. She was usually the more pragmatic one, but even she couldn’t hide the worry that crept onto her face.

“Why are you upset?” Ingrid asked softly, stepping closer.

You tried to wipe your face quickly, but it was futile. Your composure had cracked, and there was no fixing it now. “It’s nothing,” you said weakly, shaking your head. “It’s just… the press. They asked something stupid. I’m fine.”

Mapi sat down next to you, her hand finding your shoulder. It wasn’t the usual playful, sarcastic Mapi. It was the one who took care of people, who always noticed when something wasn’t right. "It’s not nothing," she said gently. "We’ve seen you after press conferences. You’re not fine. What happened?"

The tears came faster now, the pressure of everything—of the game, the media, the expectations—crushing you. “They… they just asked about us. About the three of us. If it’s a distraction. Like… like we’re some kind of problem. And I just—” You choked on your words, frustration pooling in your chest. “I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of having to defend us.”

Ingrid’s gaze flickered to Mapi, who nodded quietly before speaking again. “I’m sorry. That’s messed up. You don’t deserve that. You’re not a problem, and neither are Claudia and Patri.” Her voice was firm, but her hand on your back was gentle. “But I think you know that. You just need to talk to them. You need to tell them how you feel, not keep it inside.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes quickly. "I don't want to make it worse, though."

Mapi gave you a small, sad smile. "You’re not making it worse. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about the three of you. You’re allowed to feel upset about this. You shouldn’t have to hold all of this in alone."

Ingrid stepped back, her hand on your shoulder for a moment before she turned to head toward the door. “I’m going to let them know you’re upset. I’ll tell Patri and Pina that they need to check in with you, alright? Just stay here for a bit.”

You nodded, trying to find a way to calm down. Mapi stayed by your side, rubbing your back softly. “Hey,” she said quietly. “You’re stronger than this. You know that, right?”

You didn’t feel strong. You felt fragile, like a piece of glass that might shatter if you didn’t hold it together. “I just want it to stop. I want to be with them, just be normal. I hate feeling like we're being watched, like we’re some kind of show for everyone to judge.”

“I know,” Mapi whispered, her voice low. “But you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you. The team loves you, loves all three of you. And they know it’s not easy, but they’ve got your back.”

Ingrid returned moments later, nodding to Mapi as she opened the locker room door just a crack to let in Patri and Claudia.

When they stepped inside, they didn’t immediately speak. They just looked at you, the worry and concern obvious in their eyes.

“Baby,” Claudia said softly, kneeling in front of you and cupping your face. “Mapi told us. We’re sorry. I’m sorry.”

Patri stood next to her, her hand resting on your shoulder. “I should’ve been there. Should’ve gone with you, should’ve protected you from it.”

You shook your head, feeling the tightness in your chest again. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… everything. The media, the questions, the expectations. I don’t want to have to explain us every time.”

Claudia nodded, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t have to explain anything. We’re not a problem. You’re not a problem. The only people who matter in all of this are us, the three of us.” Her voice cracked slightly, her own emotions evident as she spoke. “We love each other. Nothing and no one can change that.”

Patri leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re allowed to be upset, love. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, together. Always together.”

You took a shaky breath and nodded, trying to regain some semblance of calm. The warmth from them, the safety of their words, began to ease the weight in your chest.

Patri's voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Hey,” she said softly, her thumb brushing across your knuckles, “Do you want to go home? We can leave right now, just the three of us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day, the pressure, the tears—everything—shifting slightly at the thought of being with them. It wasn’t perfect, but with them, you always felt like you could breathe again. You stood up, and without another word, the three of you left the locker room together, walking through the corridor in silence before stepping out into the cool air.

The drive back to your shared apartment was quiet at first. Patri drove, her fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel as she kept a steady focus on the road. Claudia sat beside her, one hand resting on Patri's thigh, the other awkwardly reaching back to hold your hand. You leaned your head back against the seat, letting the hum of the car and the beat of the music fill the space.

Then, after a few moments, something shifted. The familiar sound of an upbeat song came through the speakers, and suddenly, Patri cranked the volume up.

“Alright,” she grinned, her voice light despite the emotions still lingering. “This is the best song. You better sing with me, amiga.”

Claudia shot you a look before dramatically singing the first few lines of the song off-key. Patri was laughing too hard to hold a note, but that didn’t stop her from belting out the lyrics. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite everything. It was messy, and it was ridiculous, but it was exactly what you needed.

You joined in too, eventually. All three of you sang together, loudly and badly, at the top of your lungs. The tension you had carried around for the last few hours melted away with every note. It was cathartic, almost like the music was pulling out the last of the stress, leaving only the warmth of their company.

When you finally pulled into the parking spot of your apartment, you were all a little out of breath from laughing so hard. Patri parked the car, and you all got out, taking your time as you walked inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Claudia grinned. “I’m starving. Let’s order your favorite takeout, yeah?”

You nodded, appreciating the thought. “Sounds perfect. You two don’t even know how much I need comfort food right now.”

Patri playfully threw her arms around you from behind, her cheek resting against yours. “Anything you want, amor.”

Claudia chimed in, “I'll order it on my phone” She leaned in for a quick kiss on your cheek, before pecking Patri on the lips as she pulled her phone out.

It didn’t take long before the three of you had placed the order—your favorite comfort food that never failed to make you feel better. The delivery came soon after, and you all dug in, sitting at the kitchen island, eating together in comfortable silence.

After the meal, you all migrated to the couch, a blanket draped over the three of you. Claudia nestled into your side, resting her head on your shoulder. Patri sat beside you, her hand resting on your thigh. For a long moment, the three of you were quiet, content, just holding each other close.

A few minutes later, Claudia let out a little sigh and pulled out her phone. She glanced between you and Patri before turning her gaze to you, her voice soft but hopeful. “What do you think... maybe we should post something? Just to show everyone how we really feel. You know... not just for them, but for us too.”

You blinked, unsure at first, but when you looked at both of their faces—soft, serious, and filled with understanding—your heart warmed.

"Are you sure?" you asked quietly. "I don’t want to make it worse."

“Not if we do it right,” Claudia said, her tone gentle but insistent. “We don’t have to explain anything to anyone. Just a picture, a message. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”

Patri nodded, her fingers brushing your arm as she leaned in closer. “I’m with Clau. We don’t need to hide. We’ll do this together. It’s not about the world—it’s about us. And we’ll be okay.”

You took a deep breath, letting the weight of their words sink in. You could feel the love between the three of you, so strong, and maybe it was time to let others see it too, to stop hiding in the shadows of judgment.

You looked at them, nodding. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Claudia opened her phone and found a picture from one of your favorite dates—a candid shot of the three of you that Mapi had taken, laughing at something silly, leaning into each other in a cozy corner of a café. Your arms were wrapped around each other, and it captured everything about your relationship—soft, real, and full of joy.

She tapped a few buttons and added a simple message to the post: "My Loves"

Patri and Claudia leaned in, their heads resting against yours as you looked at the picture together.

“That feels good,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady.

“We’re stronger than anything they throw at us,” Claudia added, kissing you gently.

Patri wrapped her arm around both of you, pulling you both close. “Together,” she whispered, her voice steady and warm.

You kissed her lightly, and then Claudia again, each kiss soft and full of affection, grounding you in the moment. It was real. No matter what anyone said, this was real.

And later, when your teammates started showing their support in the comments—likes and messages of love and encouragement—it felt like everything you had just done, everything you had just fought for, was worth it. You weren’t just fighting for your relationship. You were fighting for the right to love freely and without fear.

As you snuggled deeper into the couch, wrapped in the warmth of your girlfriends, you felt more at peace than you had in days. This, right here, was where you were meant to be. Together. Always.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona femeni #woso imagine #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine #claudia pina #patri guijarro x reader #patri guijarro

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the-moon-files · 2 days ago

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Alright, so I just read through that language barriers post of yours and had a Blast Tm, BUT! Now I have several thoughts that need to be spoken. Firstly, what with english being this really ancient language now, yn‘s basically got a free phd in hyrule, don‘t they?? Predestined for exploration because of their „excellent skills with the language used in the ruins and temples of old, as well as their familiarity with the mechanisms“ or something. The ruin researchers probably beg to have them in their team.

Secondly, apparently accents are really appealing to some people? The chain already finds yn‘s morning voice really hot, but how would they even react to the way they sort of mispronounce the words? Idk too much about how japanese sounds, but maybe they emphasize the consonants too much which makes them sound harsh all the time, or the opposite, too much emphasis on vowels and sounding very soft. Just… brainrot about rambling and not trying too hard to speak perfectly accurately being all it takes to have the boys smitten and kicking their feet.

Thirdly!! What about a yn that knows multiple languages? The chain tries their best to learn english, and then yn comes around the corner like SIKE. THAT‘S NOT ALL OF THEM. YOU WILL NEVER COMPREHEND IT ALL. (That‘s what I‘d do at least.)

sorry for late reply i have a hectic life rn and i got hit by hurricane helene lol

ao3/writing blog author curse is so real u guys, this was like a 100 year not anticpated flood or smth, also we're in the mountains??

anyway gonna assume u mean masc/male reader bc of the reference to this post!! if u want context or a sorta part 1

this is just gonna be a quick reply so i can share anons ideas w/the world tho since ive been hoarding asks 😔

at the very least Wild's Zelda is harassing you

at the very most, every time u guys get near a town or city, u are kidnapped by hylian researchers

just the image of a bunch of nerd hylians mobbing u and fangirling while the rest of the guys, in full armor and swords just stand awkwardly behind lmao

(they get lowkey jealous after awhile i mean what who said that-)

the way Legend, Hyrule, Four, and Twi hover a little closer when you talk

Wild and Twi are practically like excited dogs whenever you speak, perking up when they hear your deep voice, u know, bc u tried randomly talking in the evenings abt nothing and watched them pavlov respond and look to you every time

even when u just started talking about the grass or some flowers

lowkey you accidentally almost mess up their dungeon exploring bc theyre just so used to your accented voice in their heads, just around them, or smth guiding them along, that when they all split up into smaller groups in the dungeon,

each Link pair accidentally starts following a man's voice echoing in the dungeon until they all accidentally converge in a main room and the Link equivalent of the point spiderman meme happens with you in the center with Time, who had been your dungeon buddy (he's laughing at them as every Link goes a little red after realizing they just followed you unconciously)

ur favorite thing to do is leaning down to whisper in each of the pointed hylian ears randomly, just talking about mundane or random things and watching it twitch, some trying to stay still like Time/Twi/Wars/Wild, while others leap away like u burned them lmao Legend/Hyrule/Four, and Sky managing to do both, trying to maintain composure before he inevitably breaks out all red and hides in his hands lmao

(Wind dared you to do it originally, and he snickers every time he sees you doing it again lol)

ok but the multiple languages is endless comedy gold

bc everytime a Link thinks he's got it or starts to listen then realize ur actually speaking smth completely different language

u get the most memeable faces of his confusion

like these gems

(four's blue is showing, he's offended u switched languages every other word one time)

they're actually so fed up lmao

☆

anyway sorry for late reply!! I hope u guys are having a good week so far, and ill try to post some more, tho cant guarantee when as the holidays close in for me

(rip my class is also getting near the end too im Stressin)

peace out anon,

🌙

#lu x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x male reader #link x reader #linked universe reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon asks #moon rambles #tysm for this fun ask <333 #there was so much more i couldve yapped abt but i couldnt make it into #yknow coherent thoughts #lmao

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granny-griffin · 15 hours ago

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1. There are a lot of people who think they're the only one who would speak up. Imagine what would happen if everyone who thought they were the only one... Spoke. But even if you do think you're alone... Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

I mean I think it is, and I’ve done it (or tried to). But I do tend to second guess my interpretation of a situation a lot more if I haven’t seen anybody else say something—maybe people sometimes aren’t sure if what they’re looking at is racist or not, and then decide not to do anything with that uncertainty because it would require thought.

2. There is a difference between feeding the trolls and speaking up when something wrong is happening. Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?

I think people are taught that the latter only exists in real life, and that if you try to do it in fandom you’re just yucking someone’s yum. People who do the second one generally receive the same kind of pushback as people who do the first one (even though they don’t deserve it).

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

Because trolls go away when you don’t pay attention to them. But like you already said in question #2, those situations aren’t the same. People are drawing a false equivalence between the two. And as far as bigotry I experience in fandom—I think I just assume that it will be there and not go away no matter what, and I’m pleasantly surprised when that’s not the case. But that’s not really the point of this.

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

I want to annoy bigots XD I love the excuse. Honestly not sure why more people don’t feel this way on tumblr, the website that’s all about being as annoying as you please.

At the same time, I want the annoyance to come because I’m giving them a message they don’t want to hear, not because I’m also being a jerk about it. Maybe it’s weird, but I care about bigots because they’re people, and their bigotry hurts them too, and I want them to listen to me long enough that they hear what I have to say and change what they’re doing. But even that isn’t a reason to try to keep from offending them—coddling somebody in their bigotry isn’t kind either.

I do think that people often don’t want to offend bigots who are good at creating fanworks, because they look up to them as a creative and/or don’t want to drive their skill away from the fandom. Yeah—the better you are at fanworks, the more you can get away with.

The second question is hitting me really strangely—yes, I think everybody deserves to have a comfortable space, and I want to defend that for others. I don’t know if I care to defend it for myself.

5. What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe? (Be honest with yourself!) Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

I mean I plan to listen to them, even if I don’t like the way they’re presenting their frustrations—if somebody’s mad at me for something that I really did (or sat by and failed to stop) then it’s so not my job to critique their attitude.

I don’t think I’m okay with the outcome—that’s why I’ve spoke out in the past—but the parenthetical is psyching me out. Maybe I do ignore things out of fear! I’ll have to keep introspecting.

I don’t want Black fans to assume everyone is against them, and I don’t think other people want that either—but I think fixing the situation requires people to be proactive. I think a lot of people think that just not being antiblack is enough, and then don’t think about it any harder. And so nothing happens, because instead of looking to do something right, people are only trying not to do something wrong.

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

YES 100%!! I don’t think we can accurately judge from within! This is one of my biggest struggles—it goes back to my answer to #1. I want to speak out against racism, but even though I’m trying to educate myself so that I can spot it, sometimes I’m really not sure. And calling somebody racist feels like a really big accusation—if it lands publicly in the right way it could get somebody blocked by all their friends. I wouldn’t want to do it to mistakenly. So I’ve been trying to watch and see when Black people call out racism so that I can amplify/support what they’re already saying.

But maybe we need also to have a less all or nothing approach? If we aren’t sure if someone is being racist, we could start a more private conversation to tell them about our concerns, and see if their response sheds any light on the situation. Sometimes I ask people leading questions about their thought process when making something instead of just telling them to quit being racist.

Inevitably, no matter what I do, I worry that I’m not using the right level of forcefulness. But I guess sitting here and angsting about the appropriateness of my approach is still better than doing nothing.

7. No one really answered my "what is the boundary" question at all. What I should have asked is, are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

Yes, and I think it’s tied to my struggle to judge situations. There’s a certain threshold of racism under which I can’t identify it with enough accuracy to feel comfortable making a callout. But again—maybe “public callout” and “do nothing” are not the only two possible responses.

Okay so after sitting on the responses from yesterday's question, I have some follow up questions to what seemed to be some consistent... Themes in the answers.

Like yesterday, I am asking with intent to listen (and maybe ask more questions) so I will not be arguing- at best, you'll get a "hm" to acknowledge i saw what you said.

My follow up questions:

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

*I also want to note that I'm not directing this to Black fans. I know that the context changes when you have to fight. I'm asking the people who have the privilege of fighting antiblackness while not having the identity. I.e. some marginal power in the area.

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scarletwinterxx · 1 day ago

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the grumpy cat's secret soft side - chwe hansol imagine

hiiii ~ tbh i liveeee for the black cat turn into golden retriever type of guy🥺😭😅 this one is soooo cute, i hope you like it🤍 i’m trying to make up for being gone in the past weeks hence why the back to back posts.

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’re hanging out with your friends at a café, and, as usual, Vernon is sitting at a corner table, a frown fixed on his face. His arms are crossed, his eyes barely leaving the book he's reading, and his presence is just… intense. You know the drill—no one dares to approach him unless absolutely necessary.

Your friends chatter away, but their eyes keep flicking toward Vernon, trying to gauge the seriousness of his aura. You can practically hear them whispering:

"Does he even smile? He looks like he's plotting something dark."

"I bet he has some secret double life where he's a villain or something."

You roll your eyes, amused by the misconception. Sure, Vernon has this reputation of being the "grumpy cat". The guy who scowls at anyone who dares to speak to him but you know the real Vernon. The one who’s soft, playful, and okay, maybe a little too clingy when you're alone.

You sip your coffee, trying not to laugh at the thought of what they would say if they knew. They think Vernon is all sharp edges and cool indifference, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s a total golden retriever.

Later, the café empties out, and it’s just you and Vernon. You lean against the table, watching him flick through his book, clearly trying to seem like he's deep in thought.

"You know, you should really smile once in a while. People are starting to think you're some kind of cold-hearted villain."

He grunts in response, his eyes not leaving the pages "I don’t need to impress anyone. Why pretend to be something I’m not?"

You can feel the smile tugging at your lips. If only they knew how dramatically different he was when no one else was around. Just the other night, he’d insisted on cooking you dinner and then gotten mad at the TV when you laughed at a cooking show he didn’t even like.

And the way his voice softens when he talks to you? Don’t even get you started.

"Mhm, sure. Just make sure no one sees you with your 'scary' persona, or they'll think you’re a supervillain." you tease him, a playful smile on your face

Vernon finally looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"You do realize you're the only one who gets to see me not acting like a 'villain,' right?"

You grin, taking a casual sip from your drink.

"Yeah, lucky me."

Fast forward to a few days later. You're out with Vernon and a few friends, walking through the park when you trip over a crack in the pavement. It's not that big of a fall, but you scrape your knee, and it stings just a little.

No one notices at first—except Vernon. His eyes snap to you, and you can see the panic flicker across his face.

Before you can even fully recover from the stumble, he’s already by your side, crouching down with an expression that can only be described as dramatic concern.

"Oh my god, are you okay?! Did you hurt yourself?"

You blink, slightly surprised at how intense he’s reacting. He’s usually so calm in public, but now his eyes are wide, his hand hovering near your knee like he’s afraid even the slightest touch might cause more harm.

"It’s just a scrape, Vernon. I’m fine." you stutter, still surprised by his actions

He shakes his head vigorously, ignoring your reassurances, his face completely serious.

"No. You’re not. You're bleeding, and... you’re my responsibility!"

You blink at him wide eyed, "It’s really just a small scratch. It's not like—"

"Small?!" He looks at the tiniest red mark like it’s an open wound that could be fatal. His voice grows louder. "You’re going to need a bandage! I’ll—I'll carry you home!"

You can’t help but laugh at how over the top he’s being. The guy who looks like he’s plotting world domination in front of others is now losing it over a scraped knee. But he doesn’t seem to find it funny at all.

"Do not laugh! You’re injured, and this is serious business." he scolds you, already helping you up still chuckling, as he holds out his arms like he’s ready to scoop you up at any moment.

"I don’t need you to carry me, Vernon. I can walk." you assure him

"I insist."

He’s so dramatic about it that it almost seems like he’s going to faint from the sheer concern he’s radiating.

"Is he seriously offering to carry you?" Dino asks, watching the whole scene

“What the hell is happening?" Seungkwan mumbles

You hear your friends muttering from the sidelines, their voices full of surprise, and you can’t help but smirk. This is the first time they’ve seen Vernon act this way, and they’re all shook by it.

"Vernon, seriously. I’m fine!"

But he’s already kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with wide, concerned eyes, ready to scoop you up into his arms like you're the most fragile thing in the world.

"Nope. I’m not risking it. Let’s go home. You need rest, and I need to make sure you’re not going to pass out or something."

You can’t hold back your laughter anymore."You're impossible."

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

You finally let him win, letting him gently lift you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, completely ignoring the curious stares from everyone else around. And despite how embarrassing this all is, you can’t deny it. You love how much Vernon cares about you. The "grumpy cat" persona is a total act.

You lean your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"You know, I’ve never seen this side of you before."

"Good. Keep it that way. I’m only like this for you, got it?" voice full of seriousness

"Got it."

And in that moment, you realize, as much as Vernon tries to hide it from the world, he’s completely smitten with you—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#fic #story #fanfic #svt #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen vernon #hansol chwe #vernon #chwe vernon #seventeen fluff #svt au #seventeen au #svt x readers #svt x reader #vernon imagine #vernon fluff

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godmadeaterribleerror · 20 hours ago

Text

Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water

Read on A03!

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings:

Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!

Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson

Word Count: 3.7k

“This looks kind of stupid,” you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that don’t sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.

“It’s not just stupid,” Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-“

He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.

“No moving, or you’ll make me have to start over. And none of us,” Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. “Want that.”

“Does it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Can’t we just put him in the shower?“

Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. “That is not how magic works, Samuel. We’re already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.”

“Clean of soul-“

“That wee little bellhop.” Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. “Only dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.”

“What.” Dean’s head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. “What do you mean, her breasts-“

“I mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.” Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. “Men.”

“Who the fuck was looking at her tits-“

“The bellhop, Dearie, keep up-”

“Can you just do the spell, Rowena?” You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. “Now?”

Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.

You bump Sam’s shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.” Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. “Rowena’s the best in the game, and we’re only stretching a few of the ingredients. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of you believe that, but you’re also running out of options. You’ve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean can’t keep killing people. It’s killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and you’re not stupid enough to trust her, but you’re also desperate enough to make a deal with her. She’ll do a spell to make Dean’s bloodlust refocus—make it more about things that make him happy, and less about murder—and you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.

If it works, it’s a win for everyone. Rowena doesn’t get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.

Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. “Hair.”

“What-“

“Hair, lass. The spell needs your hair.”

“Sam’s hair?” You frown. “Or my hair?”

“Preferably, both.”

You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice low—inaudible to Dean—as he mutters, “Why our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-“

“The bellhop is of no significance to Dean’s life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Mark’s corruption,” Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. “Hair.”

Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but you’re a little slower. You’re not someone Dean loves. You’re someone Dean cares about, but you’re not Sam. You don’t belong on the spell’s weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. He’d resisted this, you’d said please, and he’d caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didn’t want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot lately—Sam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through this—and it’s getting exhausting.

But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesn’t work, you can just start over and only use Sam’s hair. He has a lot of it to spare, he’ll be fine.

When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. He’d insisted on wearing his clothing in the pool—jeans, boots, flannel and all—he’s cross-legged in the water, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He still looks good. There’s an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever he’ll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until you’re wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and he’s not a burden, and if this doesn’t work, you’re going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think you’d look up at him under your lashes and he’d see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his hands—big and rough and so carefully skilled—would touch you-

“Be honest with me, Sweetheart.”

His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he won’t notice. “What?”

“Be honest,” he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesn’t look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.

“Yeah, okay. What-“

“This is dumb.”

You huff a soft, dry laugh. “It’s a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.”

“No spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Well, you’re not a witch.” You shrug. “And think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, that’s fun.”

“Bought my ass.”Dean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you and Sam stole this thing.”

“It was like, $40.” You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. “I am not paying that much for some plastic.”

“Even for a spell to save my damned soul?” Dean’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.

“You’re not damned, Dean.”

He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that it’s time to figure out what the Mark wants.

So now, in an old, dusty bar, Dean’s smiling. He hasn’t really, really smiled in a few months, and it’s incredible to see.

It aches a little that he’s smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where he’s leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from movies—he’s told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboy—but there’s a pretty strong chance it’s just Dean. It’s how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.

He’s hasn’t been Dean like that in a while, though. It’s been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but you’ve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean who’s managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when he’s in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. It’s why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why you’re facing the door in the booth—Dean always faces the door—and why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Dean’s smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isn’t you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Your attention turns to Sam—who’s looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcome—and you give him a flat glare. “What am I supposedto say to that.”

“Um, the truth? I think?” Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. “Hey!” He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. “That hurt-“

“Don’t look at him.” You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. “He needs this.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.”

“I don’t…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s weird. I read the spell-“

“Of course you read the spell-“

“Shut up, I always read the spells, it’s safer. And this one,” Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. “This one’s odd.”

“Oh no,” your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. “An odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.”

“This is why I wish you would just talk to him.” Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. “You get mean when things like this happen. And I don’t think it would be as horrible as you’ve decided it would be.”

You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. “That is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.”

He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. “I think that’s the worst case for Dean. You’d win custody.”

“Fair.” You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. “I do have a higher rate of income.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam frowns. “You make exactly what he does. Nothing.”

“Wrong. I’m a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that, we’ll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.” He makes a mock face of disgust. “We’ll die here.”

You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, “kiss ass.”

Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.

You really miss Dean. He’s just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want him—your Dean, the one that’s a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man you’ve ever known—back. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.

You look back to him in the bar—you can’t really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowd—and for a second you could’ve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasn’t because you’re something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now he’s antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowena’s terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.

You’ll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, you’ll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, you’ll just help Dean, and he won’t have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, it’s what you’ve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe he’ll turn his attention to me, and maybe he won’t, but no matter what I’ll have helped Dean.

It’s not like he doesn’t help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But that’s why you want to help.

And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but it’s helping Dean, so you’ll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when he’s better.

——————

Dean is really, really conflicted. It’s ripping him in half, because he knows he’s supposed to be polite to chicks—like the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesn’t deserve to hear—but her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesn’t want her.

Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didn’t feel like it anymore. Dean’s not great with words—he’s great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not words—and even he gets that bloodlust really isn’t the correct word for wanting something in a way that’s clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. It’s still a craving, it’s still insatiable, but it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s driving Dean to things he couldn’t really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so he’d driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didn’t have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.

Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldn’t come back. The not-bloodlust—that wasn’t a good term for it either, he’d need to come up with a better, catchier one later—had tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.

And that’s where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasn’t there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam weren’t any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldn’t keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didn’t deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.

The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyone—Dean wasn’t special—but the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Dean’s body.

That’s what won the conflict. He wouldn’t have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbye—she’d be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and weren’t overtly craving their best friends in the bar—and almost ran back to Her and Sam.

She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. “You’re back.”

“Well done, sweetheart, I am back.” Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.

“Did you, um,” She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. “Did you strike out?”

“Nah, just hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. He’d still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Sam’s voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. “Do you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-“

“Workin’ now. I feel good.” Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.

“Good?”

Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. “Real good,” he says Her name through his mouthful—crumbs falling out of his mouth—and she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He can’t hold it. He’s not even supposed to be talking right now—that was the deal he’d made with himself—so holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and that’s the last thing Dean wants to do. He’s freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.

Dean’s usually really good at making Her smile. He’s proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.

She’s not smiling now. She’s tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.

“You’re good.” She repeats his words slowly, but it doesn’t sound like she believes them. “And you think the spell worked.”

“Did work.” Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. “Don’t think it did, I know it did.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.

“Hey!” Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. “What the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-”

“It’s distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-“

“It did work. I don’t want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-“ He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Look, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.”

Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grin—all teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, I’m not going to kill anyone—but Sam’s attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tired—Dean still needs to make her smile—but she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.

“If he’s really good,” Sam’s pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. They’re a team, he’s allowed to hear this stuff. “We should get back to Kansas tonight. It’s not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-“

“I know,” She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesn’t smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. “Do you want to finish that, or-“

“Gimme three-“

“Chew, Dean.”

He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.

“Holy crap, dude.“ Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. “That was really fast, even for you.”

Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. “Don’t blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.”

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until She’s on her feet and they can follow Sam together.

“Not-bloodlust is a bad name,” She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. “What about, uh, what’s the opposite of blood?”

“Dunno.” Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. “Water? Waterlust?”

That gets him a small, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s my lust.”

“It is.” She meets Dean’s eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like she’s trying to find something on Dean’s face he doesn’t know how to get for her. “And if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.”

“Betterlust?“

“Starts with B,” Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. “Fun to say. Makes sense, too, you’re lusting after better stuff.”

Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good name—better than not-bloodlust—and he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.

“Betterlust it is, Sweetheart.” He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, I’m a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because I’m a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.

End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

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bambi-kinos · 2 days ago

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Why do people perceive John's love for Paul as unrequited? I confess that I fail to grasp this perspective. Paul is absolutely infatuated with John in every sense of the word. The difference between him and John, as Paul himself has stated, is that John voices his feelings out loud, while Paul excels at self-preservation; he knows how to navigate the rules of society while also enjoying the thrill of breaking them.

For the same reasons why Hanya Yanagihara wrote her eye wateringly boring novel "A Little Life." In "A Little Life" Yanagihara writes a Stephanie Meyer-esque novel about boys being turned gay via SA perpetuated by adult men and how they eventually grow up and become super rich and also they all have vague disabilities that cause a lot of pain but never get full definition because defining them would be inconvenient to the narrative. (Disabilities are debilitating and Yanagihara wanted to write about Sad Boys Who Were Turned Gay By Child Rape But Also They Are Rich And Go On Globe Trotting Vacations Everywhere All The Time While Being Depressed.) The point of "A Little Life" is not to tell a Sad Gay Man Story about the fallout from CSA, it is to depict a sexually exploitive miseryfest that uses disability as a way to pad the word count and add a layer of fancy fondant to the masturbatory and self indulgent text that makes it look more interesting than it is.

I bring this up because I think the phenomenon are related. There has never been a good justification for why Paul is magically indifferent or blind to John being a gay simp especially when you have so many examples of Paul being a gay simp for John in return. BUT it does make for an even sadder and more exploitive miseryfest where a Sad Gay Man died Forever Alone because he was so in love with a Happy Heterosexual Man who could never Return His Love and that is what a lot of people want. That's the only reason the narrative has any steam IMO.

It's just trying to make a sad story and make it even worse: more sad, more tragic, more gay, etc. If John and Paul were mutually attracted and in love with each other than that means they may have had stretches where they were happy together and that's unacceptable to a certain kind of mind. Because the point is the emotional and sexual gratification of seeing a Sad Gay Man Suffering, not to respect the Sad Gay Man and his story and the events and decisions that lead to his predicament. If Paul reciprocates John's love then the John and Paul love story turns into a mundane tale about a first marriage that started out happy but didn't work out because the two spouses grew apart over time. The point of "A Little Life" is the same, there's nothing genuine or cathartic about the Sad Gay Men or the Sad Painful Disabilities, they only exist so the author can circlejerk with her readers about how enlightened and noble they are. Needing the misery becomes all consuming to the point that entire rest of the story, the three dimensional nature of it, gets destroyed and swept under the rug. It's too real and some people just don't want to engage with that.

There's a mundanity to McLennon. Yes there was all sorts of stuff happening but at the end of the day they were just another couple trying to muddle through life together. The soulmate-ness of it all didn't save them when push came to shove. There wasn't a clear path forward for them to make up and get back together even as friends. This is much harder to bear for some people because it shows how the simple act of living your life can carry you away from the person who loves you most. John and Paul found each other but they still drifted apart eventually and stopped wanting to be together. The romance novel didn't end with "happily ever after." The fact that it was so relatable and downright boring is something a lot of people don't want to know or hear about. How can they jerk off to it? It's not miserable or indulgent enough.

Reducing their dynamic to Sad Gay Man Who Is Forever Alone and his Evil Oblivious Heterosexual Partner Who is Blind To His Yearning flattens it, makes it two dimensional, and thus makes it a lot easier to cope with and masturbate to, emotionally and sexually. And look there may be some people who genuinely believe this and don't type that narrative out with one hand, but they're outliers and outliers get discarded.

#mclennon #talktalktalk #anonymous asks

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tbyfandoms · 2 days ago

Text

Heart to Heart | Clay Beresford x Reader

Pairing: clay beresford x f!doctor!reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Summary: after crossing paths and connecting with new york’s most well known businessman, you end up in a whirlwind situation that’ll change your life forever

Warnings: reader is a heart transplant recipient, descriptions of heart transplant procedures and the healing process, mentions of overdosing and death of a mother, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: clay beresford, my angel bb! I was literally so excited when I got this request. I’m so absolutely obsessed with the awake movie and I think hayden did such a good job as clay. I literally need all the content for my little nyc golden retriever lmao! I really like how this turned out and I hope ya’ll do too. thank you sm to the person who requested this! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

Sterile.

That’s the only word you can ever come up with to describe the feeling of walking into the hospital each day. The white tiles, the bright lights, the almost burning scent of alcohol; it’s all so much to take in but somehow it also gives you a sense of peace.

Every time you come in through those doors it’s like a fresh start. No matter what happened the day before, no matter the heartbreaks or victories, the moment you step inside it’s another chance at new opportunities. It’s one of the reasons you love working here so much, love doing what you do. There are a lot of uncertainties in your line of work, but there are some risks worth taking.

Rounding the corner you start going over what you need to do today. Residency has been a whirlwind of an experience and every day is different from the last, but over the past few months since you’ve been at this hospital, you’ve started to get somewhat of a routine down. At least when you start your day it’s kind of the same every time, giving you a moment of normalcy until the real fun begins.

Changing into your scrubs in the locker room, you nearly jump as one of your coworkers, Jill, comes up beside you.

“Hey!” She squeaks, a gleam in her eyes you know all too well. She’s definitely up to something.

“Jesus, stop doing that to me! You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” you grumble. Shutting your locker you sit on the bench to change into your comfortable work shoes. They’re not the prettiest but they do wonders for your back and feet during these long shifts you endure.

“Sorry! But you’ll never guess who I just saw walk in with Dr. Harper.”

“Who?” You inquire—Jill’s giddy smile and shifty eyes beginning to freak you out.

“Clay Beresford,” she whispers, moving closer to you on the bench to ensure no one else can hear. Not like anyone would considering the two of you are the only people in the locker room.

“Really?” The name isn’t at all unfamiliar. If you live in this city, you know who Clay Beresford is, or his name at the very least. The man owns half the city at this point, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he owned all of it by the time he hit 30. All inherited from his father and even from his own doing too. You’ve seen a bit about him here and there in the papers and on the news. It surprises you how young he is and yet he’s already accomplished so much. It’s inspiring to put it plainly, especially considering how much good he’s done for the underprivileged.

It doesn’t surprise you Jill’s seen Clay here. When you started working at this hospital the gossip was everywhere. You couldn’t chat with a coworker without Clay Beresford being brought up. Apparently he has a bad heart and suffered a massive heart attack not long before you started. It was clear to you then that he didn’t have much time left without a transplant, and that was a while ago. You’re surprised he hasn’t been able to receive one yet considering his status, but amongst the whispers you were able to piece together that his blood type is rare and thus the transplant waiting game began. You’re unfortunately more familiar with that game than you’d like to be—having had your own heart transplant just a few short years ago.

No pun intended but your heart aches for Clay. You know that fear and anxiety he must be facing isn’t easy. The wait for a transplant is brutal enough as it is, but dealing with that is only half the battle. The road to recovery is a long and painful one and you just hope he has the support he’ll need once he does have the surgery. You’re not sure why your mind wanders to thoughts like that when you think of Clay, maybe it’s the transplant sympathizer in you, but there’s also just a part of you that feels like the Beresford heir is so much more than the media and other people make him out to be.

It’s sad, really, when you think about it. In reality Clay’s just like any other person trying to keep on living and get healthy, yet he’s talked about around the hospital as if HIPPA doesn’t exist. Sure he has money and power—as much as a man in New York could have—but that doesn’t change the fact he’s just a 20-something year old guy fighting for his life. You just wish more people saw it that way and wished him well instead of questioning what’s gonna happen to his company if he doesn’t make it out alive.

“-and I mean ohmygod I only saw him for a split second but I swear he is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even realized Jill has been going off on a tangent about her encounter with Clay.

“Wait, so did you talk to him?” Your eyebrows knit together as you look over at your friend, suddenly needing her to go back several steps in her story.

“No, I told you when I saw him walking down the hall with Dr. Harper I said hello to Doctor and that was it. I couldn’t exactly blurt out Clay’s name like I knew him. If I had I mean hello, stalker much?” You try to bite back your smirk, wanting to tell her that’s exactly what this whole conversation paints her out to be, but you let it go. Jill is always one for the dramatics. “But I did look at him as I was passing by and he smiled at me and nodded and honestly after that I’d say I’m pretty content with life now.”

Giggling, you shake your head. “You’re somethin’ else you know that, Jill?”

“Awh, c’mon! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t just die to have a conversation with Clay Beresford,” Jill teases, poking you softly in the side to try and egg you on. You swat her hand away playfully and roll your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s royalty. Sure he’s attractive and rich but so are a lot of men, some not so favorable.”

“Okay but he might as well be! He’s about as close as you can get to royalty in New York! And that’s the point, he’s not part of those not so favorable men. He seems like a really great guy! I know you think so too, I’ve heard your thoughts on him before. It’s good to have guys like him having a hand in what goes on in this city. God knows we need the help.”

“You got all of that out of a smile and a nod?” This time it’s Jill’s turn to roll her eyes and the two of you laugh lightly as you get up from your spots on the bench.

“Whatever, I’m just saying! You’ll understand where I’m coming from when you meet him in person.”

Reaching for the door handle you look back at Jill. “I doubt that’ll ever happen. I can’t think of one instance where he and I will ever end up in the same room together.”

“It’s possible, I mean look at me! I was just walking down the hall ready to come get you and there he was in all his glory,” she smiles. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into him yet considering all the times he’s here. I know he’s always with Harper when he is here and you’re not usually on his service, but still. I’m also surprised Harper hasn’t introduced the two of you considering your history. You could probably give Clay some tips, you know.”

Turning the thought over in your head you realize that’s not actually a bad observation or idea. “You know you’re actually right. I do have first hand experience with that stuff…but I mean so does Dr. Harper. Sure he’s never experienced a transplant personally but he’s performed them countless times. He probably knows better than me everything that goes along with getting a new heart. I’m just a resident, what could I really help Clay with?”

Jill hums, a sign that means she’s not giving up. “There’s nothing better than talking to someone who’s actually gone through what they have. Respectfully, Dr. Harper can tell Clay all he wants about the process but you’ve actually lived it. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you happened across him and were able to at least ease his mind if nothing else. Transplants are scary and dangerous, especially heart ones, but you’re proof they actually work and that he has a fighting chance.”

Glancing at your coworker you can see it in her eyes she’s being sincere. Sure Jill likes to joke a lot and is more unserious than not half the time, but she does have her moments and you’ve certainly found yourself in one. It warms your heart that she actually thinks you could be of any help to fellow transplant recipients, even if this whole conversation only started because of the fact she’s attracted to a patient.

“Thanks, Jill. Look I promise if I happen to see Clay Beresford I’ll make sure to give him all my expert advice on dealing with a heart transplant.” Saying it out loud kind of sounds ridiculous to you, still not believing the idea you’d ever even have a chance to talk to the businessman. But it seems to be enough for the woman beside you because in an instant she’s excitedly clapping her hands.

“Goodie! Now, let’s get serious.” Grabbing onto your arm as the two of you continue walking, she leans her head closer to yours—reminding you of when you were both in the locker room. “Do you think Clay has a girlfriend?”

And she’s back.

*****

After parting ways with Jill, you find yourself wandering the halls. A patient had asked you for directions and you took it upon yourself to just lead them to where they needed to go, finding it much easier to do instead of trying to explain it. Sometimes you swear you still get lost around here too.

You’ve ended up a long ways away from where you need to be so you’re quickly trying to find the easiest way back. You don’t have much to do right now but you’d still rather be closer to your assigned doctor for the day in case something comes up. Anything can happen and you want to be accessible if help is needed. You’re eager to learn any and all new skills whenever you can, plus you have a feeling it helps when doctors are deciding who gets to join in on surgeries, which—if you’re being honest—is the goal.

Turning the corner, you cut through the hallway where some of the operating rooms are. You’ve found yourself here countless of times in the past few months, either helping out with low-risk surgeries or merely observing. It gives you a rush in the moment, makes your heart beat a little faster, and although you know super high stress and a rapid heartbeat isn’t the best for you and your condition—it makes you feel alive. The rush and the heavy thumps of your heart remind you of all you’ve been through, all you’ve survived, and it makes you even more grateful to still be here. Grateful to still be able to go out there and help people just like you’ve always wanted.

Smiling at the thought, you quicken your steps, eager to get back to work and see what the day has in store for you. Though before you get much further, you look off to the side and see a doctor rapidly approaching you. It’s Dr. Puttnam, one of the doctors that works closely with Dr. Harper.

You’ve worked on his service a few times before but each time you were itching to get away. There’s just something about him you find a little off. Part of it is probably the way he so easily cracks jokes in the operating room while cutting open a patient and how he seems so cocky with everything he does. It’s like there’s this missing piece of humanity in him, he gives you the impression he only cares about himself and you constantly find yourself wanting to roll your eyes in his presence. You and Jill have talked about him before and she feels the same way you do—if not stronger. The two of you always tease each other when one of you unfortunately gets put on his service, and as he approaches you you pray he’s not here to tell you today’s one of those instances. That’d really put a damper on your mood right now.

“Y/N! Glad to run into you. Hey, do me a favor and let Dr. Harper know to saddle up. Riordan’s cabbage is in the ICU bleedin’. He took off for the fuckin’ vineyard so we gotta get in there. Harper’s supposedly in one of the operating rooms so just find him and let him know I’ll be waiting, thanks!”

You don’t even get a chance to respond because in an instant he’s back to rushing down the hallway. See this is exactly why you don’t like him. Who talks like that about another patient? It’s like taking care of people is a chore for him…as if it’s not his job.

Ugh.

Trying to not let it get to you, you take a peek in the operating room closest to you. You can see Dr. Harper through the window and can tell he’s talking to someone but you can’t see who it is. You’re pretty sure he didn’t have any surgeries this morning so you’re confused on why he’s even inside. You shrug and push on the door, feeling the weight of it as it slides open.

When you walk in you catch the tail-end of Harper’s conversation. “You might not have much of it left, okay?”

Your eyes cut from the doctor to the figure that moves on the operating table. As you step further into the room you nearly trip over your feet as you stop dead in your tracks. Laying on the operating table, forearms holding up the top half of his body, and staring straight at you, is Clay Beresford himself.

Oh my god?

For some reason you figured Clay would’ve been gone by now. Sure you knew he was with Dr. Harper, but considering his job you just assumed it’d be quick. You never thought in a million years you’d walk in on him laying on an operating table fully clothed and apparently discussing something serious with Dr. Harper. It’s strange but you’re also intrigued.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! How can I help you?” Harper’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you pray the heat you feel flush through your body isn’t visible as you finally look away from the blonde just a few feet in front of you.

“Dr. Harper, I-I’m sorry to interrupt! I didn’t know you were with a…” Words fail you as your eyes flit to Clay once again, taking note of the soft smile adorned on his face. Finally the word you’re looking for comes to mind and you shift your focus back onto Harper. “Patient.”

“It’s quite alright, we were just finishing up.” Harper turns to Clay and from the tone of his voice and look on his face, you get the feeling you actually were interrupting. “Was there something you needed, Y/N?”

Before you can dive too deep into the possibilities of what it is Dr. Harper was talking to Clay about, you remind yourself of the actual reason you walked in here. “Yes! Sorry! Dr. Puttnam stopped me in the hall and told me there’s a bit of a-uh emergency?” Going over Puttnam’s words in your head you try to piece together a more respectful version of them. “Dr. Riordan’s patient is apparently bleeding out and he’s away on vacation so Dr. Puttnam said it’s up to the both of you to treat the patient now. It seemed urgent and he said he wants you to meet up with him in the ICU right away.”

A flash of shock crosses Dr. Harper’s face as he takes in your words and you can see him start to revert to hyperdrive-as most doctors do with news like this. “Oh I see, alright, thank you for letting me know.”

Harper places a hand on Clay’s shoulder and you take this moment to do a once over of the businessman as his attention is being drawn elsewhere. He’s wearing a grey suit that is of course fitted to perfection and he’s got some leather shoes (that you’re sure are worth more than your rent) to match.

It’s funny, you would think that considering his well-kept appearance and cookie cutter styling, the Beresford heir would be oozing the feeling of wealth and prestige. But instead all you see as you look at him sat on that operating table, looking up into the serious eyes of his doctor, is apprehension and uncertainty wrapped up in expensive packaging.

Clay may have practically all the money in the world and an empire of a business backing him, but it’s clear in the unspoken message passing between him and Dr. Harper that there’s a lot more involved than what the public knows. It’s apparent to you, just like you thought earlier, that there’s more to Clay Beresford than just his money and pretty face, that he too has things—people—he’s scared of losing.

You can’t help the downward dip in the corner of your lips as you think about it all, as you think about how you were in his exact same position not that long ago.

“I have to go,” Harper says as he steps away from Clay, but suddenly he stops and you watch as his gaze flutters back and forth between you and the blonde. A thought seems to occur to him and you swear you can see a smile start to form on his face. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot you two have never met before. I don’t know why I didn’t think to introduce you sooner. Y/N, this is Clay, he’s a patient of mine that’s awaiting a heart transplant. Clay, this is Y/N, she’s a resident here and is actually a heart transplant recipient herself.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Where is Jill and how in the hell did she speak this into existence?

Before you get the chance to actually process the fact you’re being personally introduced to Clay, you watch as the man of the hour sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take a step forward and grasp it in your own, giving his hand a light shake as he nods his head and smiles up at you from his seat on the table.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says.

“You as well, Clay.” A beat passes between the two of you just looking at each other and it’s in this instance you notice how blue Clay’s eyes are. They’re pale blue—like the sky—and you find yourself hoping that a cloud never passes through them.

God, get it together, Y/N.

Letting go of Clay’s hand, you take a step back and put some distance between you. The pictures of him on the news and in the paper so do not do him justice. You take a second to remind yourself Clay’s still a patient of this hospital and, yeah, you’re still an employee of it too. Oops?

“Remember what I said, Clay. No regrets. The clock’s ticking,” Harper says as he walks backwards towards the door. As he faces forward and grabs onto the handle, he stops and turns towards you both again. “You know, Y/N, while you’re here maybe you can give Clay a little advice and insight on the importance and weight of this surgery? Have a little…heart to heart, if you will.”

The doctor smiles at you both before he disappears through the door, leaving you and Clay alone in the operating room.

As the door softly closes, you swear you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. For being a bustling hospital it sure is quiet out there…

“So, you’re a heart transplant recipient?” Clay breaks the silence first and you’re grateful for it. You’re not sure what you would’ve even opened a conversation like this with. What does Harper expect you to say? Hey, Clay! This surgery is super scary and you might die, but stay positive!

To be fair, it’s not like that’s a lie per say, but it’s incredibly blunt and you’re definitely not the type of person to just dish something out like that and move on.

“I am,” you start, finding it hard to fully look into the blonde’s eyes again. They’re so intense you’re not sure you’ll be able to be alone with him in this room, look into them, and not completely lose your mind. “It was a while back, nothing extremely recent, but yeah. It was…an experience.”

You don’t even know how to articulate the proper words to explain to Clay how monumental something like a heart transplant is. He’s not stupid, there’s no doubt he knows the risks, but having experienced it yourself and knowing first hand what’s it’s like on the other side of it all is hard to summarize.

“I bet it was,” Clay practically whispers. It’s in this moment you notice he’s lost some of that front he was obviously putting up for Dr. Harper. That joking edge in his tone is gone and is instead replaced by unknowingness. “Dr. Harper has tried to explain to me over and over how important and serious this surgery is, and I get it I really do, but there’s still a part of me that is completely lost on it all. I think if I believe it’s not that bad and just act like everything is fine that it will be. But I know that’s not how it works.

“I’ve tried to talk to Dr. Harper about it but it never comes out the way I want it to. I feel like it would kind of fall on deaf ears anyways. At the end of that surgery Dr. Harper will still be alive. I’m the only one in that operating room who has a chance at not making it back out of there and that terrifies the hell out of me.” Clay let’s out a breathy laugh, not because he finds anything actually funny, but because of the fact he can’t believe he actually said that out loud.

Since the moment he found out he needed this surgery, he’s never once vocalized the very real possibility of what can happen. He’s heard it spoken a dozen times to and around him, but never once has he heard it be spoken in his own voice. The weight on his shoulders seems to somehow get even heavier.

You know Clay is a busy man and that there isn’t a lot of time here to get through to him. But you feel your heart practically shatter in your chest at the blonde’s words, and it’s at this point you decide you’ll try your best, because for some reason the universe has given you this opportunity to be there for someone in your position—something you unfortunately didn’t have. You won’t stand to let Clay be in this alone. Family or not, the man clearly has no one around who’s gone through what he has and you refuse to let him deal with it on his own any longer.

“Clay,” you say, taking tentative steps towards him, not wanting to cross a boundary but also wanting to be close enough so he really hears what you’re about to say. “Dr. Harper isn’t wrong when he says how risky this surgery is. There is a very high chance that you will go to sleep on that table and never wake up.”

Clay’s eyes flick to yours and suddenly that jittery feeling you had looking into them earlier is gone. Now you only feel sincerity and determination as you look into them.

“I don’t want you to take that as me believing you won’t survive this, though. I mean look at me, I know first hand exactly what you’re going through, what you will go through, and I am still here. I am alive and healthy and proof that this can work for you too. I don’t know everything Dr. Harper has told you or asked of you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to let the fear control you. Yeah, this surgery is scary as hell. I didn’t think I was going to make it either, but I did, and I’ve lived every day since knowing this transplant is not a death sentence. It’s a chance at a new life.”

Something flickers in Clay’s eyes and you swear you can tell you’re getting through to him, in whatever way that may be.

“Yes, there are risks, and yes I agree with Dr. Harper in the sense that you need to grasp the fact this surgery and it’s repercussions are very real, but that’s not all that’s important. Of course there are things you have to think about and take care of before going into this surgery, but you also need to take care of yourself. It is your life, Clay, and if I took away anything from when I had my own transplant surgery, it’s that no one else can get you through this the way you can. Your decisions are your own and you have to look after what’s important to you first, no matter what or who that may be. But just because there’s a chance you won’t survive, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. You deserve to still be able to think about and plan your future. Dr. Harper is a good surgeon and I believe with all my heart that you will continue to have one.”

There’s a finality in your tone that you’re not quite sure on where it came from. Part of you feels like you were just standing on a soap box and maybe you shouldn’t have gone off on that little rant as much as you did, but from the look on Clay’s face you can tell it means the world to him.

“Y/N…why is it only now I’ve just met you?” Clay grins at you and you can feel your face flush at both his comment and awestruck gaze. “Somehow I feel things would’ve made a lot more sense earlier on if I would’ve met you when this all started. Not one person has ever made me feel the way you just did about this surgery. No one’s been able to give their honest thoughts and feelings on it all like that. This is the first time in almost a year that I’ve ever felt seen and heard.”

There’s a small blush on Clay’s cheeks and you revel in the way you words have affected him. You didn’t really have a plan, you kinda just went for it, so you’re glad it came off the way you wanted it to. If there’s anything Clay—or any transplant patient really—deserves is the chance to find solace in someone who can relate to them. Someone to help ease their fears, their burdens.

“There’s a lot of doctors and statistics involved in this whole thing, but there’s not a lot of relatability. Going through this process can be very lonely and nerve wracking, and I know we quite literally just met today but I want you to know I’m here for you, Clay. If you need someone that has any clue about what it’ll feel like, what the process of recovery is like, I’m here to answer those questions. Not everyone is the same, everyone’s transplant journey is different. But just know you no longer have to feel alone in this.”

As you finish your spiel, you try to hide your surprise at your own words. You’ve met this man officially mere minutes ago and yet here you are essentially offering up a shoulder to cry on. Even through your shock you find it weird how natural it feels.

“Thank you, Y/N, seriously,” Clay starts, clearly not feeling uncomfortable at the offer at all as an honest and warm smile adorns his face as he looks at you. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

That heat makes its way back to your face as you stare at Clay, watching as his eyes look up at you through his lashes as he continues to sit on the operating table. In this position you have the tiniest bit of height advantage on him and you curse yourself for noticing how easy it would be to lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an embrace.

After a few more beats of comfortable silence, the two of you just enthralled in each other’s presence, a daring thought pops into your head. It probably crosses so many lines in regards to HIPPA and just doctor/patient morals in general, but you don’t want this to be the last you see of Clay. Who knows when he’ll be back the same time as you, or if you’ll even get the opportunity to stop and talk to him when you are at the hospital at the same time. You’ve seen a lot of articles recently about taking things into your own hands, making the first step, and apparently this is your moment to practice just that.

“Clay-“ You don’t even get the chance to attempt to be bold because the moment the blonde’s name leaves your lips, his phone is ringing and his gaze is ripped from your own as he reaches into his pocket in search of the source of the sound.

You watch as he looks down at the screen and in an instant every thought of absolutely anything happening between you two is immediately dismissed. It’s so obvious in the way Clay’s shoulders relax, the crease between his brow flattens, and how his whole face practically lights up that clearly whoever is on the other side of that phone call is someone the businessman is in love with.

“Hey, baby,” Clay coos softly in the phone, looking so at peace in an environment that is the complete opposite of it. And that confirms it.

Your shoulders slump forward and you’re unsure why you feel so deeply affected by all of this. You don’t know Clay at all, never would have under any other circumstance, so why does it hurt so much watching him talk sweetly to another woman?

Quickly, you stand up straighter and plaster a smile on your face as Clay’s eyes flick over to you, seeming to remember where exactly he is and who it is he was talking to before his phone rang.

Pulling the phone away slightly from his face, he smiles at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should really head out now. It was so nice to meet you.” Clay gets up from the operating table and you find yourself taking a step back as his full height comes into view and he consumes your space.

“Of course! It was nice to meet you too, Clay,” you reply, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. A twinge of embarrassment floods through you. How naïve of you to let yourself daydream about this becoming anything else than what it actually is; a doctor talking to a patient.

You watch his retreating back as he makes his way to the door and you find yourself firmly planted in the spot he’s leaving you in. You won’t lie, a part of you doesn’t want to follow in the risk you’ll go in the same direction and you’ll be forced to hear him whisper more sweet nothings to another woman.

As Clay opens the door, he pauses for a moment before turning back to you and nodding his head. “See you around.”

The door slowly closes behind him and you let out a breath of air you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“See you around, Clay.”

*****

“God, I cannot wait to go home, curl up in bed, and go to sleep. I’m exhausted,” Jill groans as she rubs the back of her neck with her hand, trying to ease some of the tension there.

“Tell me about it, I feel like it was so brutal today. I guess it makes sense considering it is Halloween, but still.” Rolling your head, you feel a couple cracks in your neck and you can’t help the hum of satisfaction that slips past your lips at the feeling.

“Oh shit, it is Halloween, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t realize! Ugh all the good candy is probably sold out by now. You think some of the other doctors with families will bring in candy tomorrow they don’t want their kids to eat? I’d kill for a full size Hershey bar.”

You giggle over your friend’s comments and roll your eyes as you nudge her softly. “Jill, we can get those from the vending machines! Stop trying to mooch off of kids’ hard earned candy.”

“I know, but it tastes better when it’s from trick or treating! A-k-a when it’s free! Besides those kids don’t need it, cavities and all that.”

“Oh okay, I didn’t know you switched over to dentistry,” you laugh.

Jill rolls her eyes and smirks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, are you even working tomorrow? You better or when I steal a kid’s candy bar, I’m not sharing with you.”

“You’ll have to indulge without me then because I’m off,” you shrug and then laugh as you watch Jill throw her head back with a groan.

“Ugh, so not fair, you lucky, lucky girl! I’m not off until the day after.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get my karma then because I’m working when you’ll be off, so it all balances out in the end.”

Jill tilts her head and hums satisfactorily at that realization. “Huh, you’re right. All is forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and you shake your head at your friend’s antics. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

As the two of you round the corner towards the front door, you both slow down as you take in the sight of a small group before you. It only takes you a second to recognize Clay and even less time to realize he’s with a girl. A very beautiful girl at that.

“Woah, who’s the babe with Clay? You think that’s…?” Jill tilts her head slightly towards you, wanting to get your insight.

You don’t even have to guess that that’s the woman the blonde was talking to earlier on the phone. As you get closer you realize Clay has his arm wrapped around her as well, and your stomach lurches a bit at the sight.

“Y/N!” Your eyes are immediately averted from Clay’s embrace around his—presumed—girlfriend, and instead become locked in with those of the man in question. Those pale blues look somehow even brighter, happier than they were this morning. From the looks on everyone else’s face as well, you can tell there’s a reason for it.

“Hey, Clay,” you smile, finding yourself and Jill now wrapped up in the small gathering. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?”

“More than okay, Ms. Y/L/N! Clay here is getting his new heart tonight,” Dr. Harper chimes in. The smile that breaks out on your face is uncontrollable.

“What!? Clay, that’s amazing! Congratulations.” For a mere moment it feels like the two of you are the only ones standing there. Clay’s soft, grateful smile causes your cheeks to warm and a sense of adoration to flow through you.

The feeling swiftly leaves though as you pick up movement out of the corner of your eye. All too soon you’re brought back to the reality that you’re in a group of people, and the man you can’t stop fawning over is very much involved with whoever this woman is next to him.

Your eyes flit from Clay’s to the brunette woman’s and somehow Clay seems to pick up on it, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced you two yet! Sam, this is Y/N, one of the doctors who works with Jack. Y/N, this is Sam; my wife.”

Wife.

The word rings out in your head and you have to fight the way it nearly knocks you off your feet. “H-Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” You reach out your hand and Sam does the same, your eyes widening at the sight of her wedding ring as she grasps your hand in hers.

You quickly try to recover, not wanting to be too obvious with the way you’re feeling right now. Sam’s smile is big and infectious and you’re sure she doesn’t notice a thing.

Who would, knowing a man like the one next to her is her husband?

Lightly shaking your head, you let go of Sam’s hand and turn towards Jill, needing her now more than ever and also realizing she also deserves an introduction.

“And this is Jill! A friend of mine as well as a fellow doctor.” Jill wastes no time in taking Clay’s gaze off of you, moving in closer and sticking out her hand immediately.

“Hi! So great to officially meet you, Clay!” She says ecstatically before turning her head towards his wife and only slightly losing the excitement. “Sam.”

Clay grasps her hand in his and you can just tell by the look on her face that she’s eating this up. You have to hold yourself back from laughing. “I remember you! I saw you this morning while I was with Dr. Harper, right?”

You swear you see Jill die and then come back to life all in a split second. “Y-Yes, that was me!”

She miraculously lets go of Clay’s hand and you hear her let out a stunned huff as the takes a step back towards you. Not a second later you feel Jill poke you lightly in the side and you know immediately she’s never going to live this moment down.

You cover up the chuckle that escapes you by clearing your throat. As you regain yourself, you watch as Sam looks up at Clay and they seem to share a private moment, even while standing in the middle of a hospital. It’s evident the love they have for each other, the trust and admiration. It’s palpable and makes your heart squeeze, both in envy and despair.

You’d give anything to have a love like that. A man like that. Specifically that man in front of you, if you’re being completely honest.

“You girls heading home for the night?” A voice cuts into your stream of thought and you’re grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Clay and Sam.

It’s Dr. Puttnam, but you’re honestly not even mad about having to talk to him right now. You might even go as far as to say you’re thankful for him…maybe.

“Yeah, our shifts just ended so we’re on our way out,” you reply.

“Really? That’s too bad, I was hoping maybe you’d be here for the surgery. I figured since you work with Jack and all that you’d be in the operating room,” Clay says, drawing your attention right back to him.

“Oh-!” Clay’s words catch you off guard but also leave you feeling flattered. To think he wanted—no, wants—you in the operating room with him, it leaves you practically speechless. “Uh-no, I’m not on your case specifically, but I wouldn’t mind stepping in, if Dr. Harper is-“

“No!” You’re cut off by Harper himself and with his sudden exclamation, your excitement dwindles. An opportunity to be there for Clay in a way you didn’t think was possible would’ve been everything. Even besides that, to step in on a high profile heart transplant surgery this early in your career could’ve opened so many doors for you. You’re confused on the sudden shut down of the idea and by the look on Clay’s face, you’re not the only one. Harper clears his throat and gives a strained smile. “I mean, unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible. Although Y/N is more than capable of taking part in the surgery, due to the severity of this case I must insist we stick with only the original people assigned to this operation. We wouldn’t want to risk anything or have more people in the room than necessary.”

A valid reason, but still a disappointing one nonetheless. You just nod your head understandingly, your lips coming together in a tight line as you try to not let your upset emotions shine through.

“You could stick around in the waiting room with me? If you want to that is, I know you’re just getting off a shift. Clay told me earlier about the conversation he had with you and well, I just know it’d mean a lot to him to know you were around—at least in some capacity—for his surgery.” Your eyes snap to Sam and her offer takes you by surprise.

Damn, she’s nice, too? It’s gonna be really hard to dislike this woman.

You shift your gaze to the blonde before you and he nods his head lightly, encouraging the idea. Your decision is a no brainer. “I’d love to. Anything to help support Clay.”

“Great!” Puttnam cuts in with a clap of his hands. “The more, the merrier! I’m sure your mother will appreciate the company, Clay.”

The doctor looks on with a smile but it immediately drops as he takes in Clay’s concerned expression.

“What? Wait, she’s here?” Clay questions.

Clay and Harper share a look and you try to not come off as nosy as you attempt to read their expressions. It’s clear Dr. Harper and Clay have some sort of understanding with each other. It doesn’t seem odd considering their friendship, but it’s clear there’s some hesitation between them when it comes to Mrs. Beresford, at least from what you can tell.

“What? She’s on the call sheet,” Dr. Puttnam says in defense.

Clay sighs before turning to Sam. “I’m going to go deal with this and then I’ll meet back up with you. I think it’d be best if I just went with Jack to handle my mother.” Sam nods and you watch as the blonde leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead before turning back to the group.

You try to make yourself appear as if you didn’t just witness their tender moment by stepping a bit closer to Penny, trying to locate what room they’re gonna have Clay in.

“If you want,” you start, wanting to offer at least some sort of help. “I can take Sam up to the room you’ll be in. She can wait there until you’re ready to get changed for surgery.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Clay smiles. “That’d be perfect.”

Trying to hide the blush you just know is beginning to coat your cheeks, you smile and nod your head before stepping away towards Jill. The look on her face makes her appear as if she’s just won the lottery and honestly just knowing how Jill is, her talking to Clay is her version of winning the lottery.

You roll your eyes affectionately and smirk as you physically feel how jittery with excitement she is as you pull her closer to you. “Well, I guess this is happening?”

“Holy shit! Yeah this is happening! Look at you getting all cosy with the Beresford family! This morning you didn’t even think you’d ever be in the same room as Clay let alone getting to talk to him and now be his personal on call girl.” There’s a suggestive look on your friend’s face and you feel yourself wanting to curl into a ball over the fact she said that when everyone else is barely five feet away.

“Jill!” You squeak. She begins to laugh and you hate the fact you feel yourself fighting back a chuckle as well. “I can’t believe you.”

“No, I can’t believe you. I’m heading home but go and get cosy with the apparent new Mrs. B.” Jill lowers her voice and leans her head so close to you her forehead nearly knocks into the side of yours. “Maybe you’ll find out she’s really some horrible person and you can swoop in and steal the blonde god that is Clay Beresford away from her.”

“Jill! Never gonna happen!” You playfully push your friend away and watch as she laughs brightly over the whole thing. You just stand there and shake your head, barely noticing the intrigued look on Clay’s face a few feet away from you.

As your friend recollects herself, you let her absurd words float through your mind. You sneak a glance over at the woman in question and find it hard to believe she could have any trace of evil inside of her. Her smile and eyes are too kind, and the literal glow around her as she talks with her husband is unmistakable. It’s clear she makes Clay happy and you’re sure a man as good as Clay Beresford would never fall for someone cruel.

“You never know,” Jill shrugs. She yawns and then continues. “I’m gone, but call me if anything happens! Good or bad, I want the details.”

“Promise! Have a good night, I’ll see you later.” Jill waves in return and as she walks past the small group she wishes Clay ‘good luck’, which he instantly thanks her for.

Even with her back turned you can tell the woman has a smile on her face. You don’t even wanna know the thoughts running through her head right now. The idea makes you chuckle.

Rejoining the group you take in the fact it’s dwindled since you stepped away. All that remains is Clay, Sam, and Dr. Harper.

“Y/N, perfect timing! Dr. Puttnam has gone with Penny to get the operating room ready for Clay. Why don’t you go on ahead with Sam while Clay and I speak with his mother. We hope the conversation won’t be long,” Dr. Harper says before glancing at Clay. “But either way we will meet up with you both and get started right away.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say before turning towards Clay and Sam. “Sam, right this way.”

The brunette smiles at you warmly and you mentally curse yourself for even jokingly thinking about the idea of stealing her new husband from her.

After all, she is just evidently a girl in love trying to live a long, happy life with her husband.

*****

To say the atmosphere has turned a little...chilly would be an understatement. After bringing Sam back to the waiting room, it wasn't long before Clay's mother joined you two. She greeted you kindly, asked a few questions, and thanked you for staying to support her son. But the minute Sam tried to insert herself into the conversation, tried to find some connection with Clay's mom, Lilith immediately shut her down. Lilith wasn't very receptive to anything Sam had to say, which made having any conversation with the both of them basically impossible, to put it lightly.

So now you find yourself practically trapped between these two women who clearly have some sort of history, anxiously watching the time tick by on the clock you've had your eyes glued to for some time now. Lilith's occupied herself with some playing cards she had in her purse and Sam twiddles aimlessly with her thumbs, no doubt feeling anxious not only about Clay but also due to the tension between herself and his mother.

"Miss, uh..." The deep baritone of the nurse's voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you immediately hone in on the chance he might be bringing news of Clay. "Ramos?"

Your shoulders slump down in rejection, feeling no closer to getting any answers than you did before the nurse walked in. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he goes and sits down in one of the waiting room chairs close to Sam. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you wonder what it is he could want from her.

"Hi, how you doin'?" He asks Sam and you can tell she's having non of it as she replies with a cool 'hey'. "Can I help you with something?"

Wow, he's persistent, you think.

You go to roll your eyes, picking up on the fact that clearly this guy is trying to hit on Sam. Which, if you think about it, is a little sick considering where you are currently. Obviously that doesn't deter some people.

"Haven't I seen you around?" You lift your head up and look over at the pair, finding it odd the nurse would even say that. You assume if he has seen her around, she'd be with Clay and this guy would know she's taken. You mentally brush it off, this is probably just part of his game to get Sam's number.

The need to maybe step in on Sam's behalf is abruptly pushed to the side as you see Sam hold up her hand, proudly showing off her engagement and wedding ring.

You can't help the tiny smirk that graces your lips as you watch the nurse sigh and slouch down in defeat. Sam shut that down real quick. The nurse mumbles an apology before rushing off back to his job.

"You have two rings on your finger." Your smirk disappears as you hear Lilith speak up from beside you. It's the first time she's spoken to Sam directly since you got to the waiting room. Something tells you this is not gonna be good.

"What was that?" Sam questions barely above a whisper. She's probably just as shocked as you this interaction is happening.

"Why are you wearing two rings, Sam?" The way Lilith questions it, you know she already knows the answer and she is not happy about it.

Holy shit, you think. She had no idea her own son got married.

Things just got a whole lot more interesting.

Sam stays silent and it doesn't take long for Lilith to question, "When?"

"Just before he got the call," Sam shrugs, looking timid. Clay's mom sighs and quickly looks away from her, finding the playing cards she's been shuffling way more interesting than whatever it is her apparent daughter-in-law has to say.

"Lilith," Sam pleads, but it's no use as Lilith refuses to look up.

Yikes. Maybe I should've sat on the other side, you think. You feel at any moment those playing cards could go flying and you really don't feel like being in the middle of that cat fight.

Clearing your throat in the least awkward way as possible, you get up and head for the vending machine a few feet in front of you. Maybe a little refreshment will do you some good. It is Halloween after all, you deserve a sweet treat.

As you pick which of the drinks it is you want, you remember the tidbit Sam tried to give Clay's mom earlier when she first walked into the waiting room. You hold down a bit longer on the button and feel satisfied as you watch your treat get released to you.

Bending down to grab your drink, you startle a little as a crash sounds from behind you. You turn your head and watch as Sam hurries to the floor, a bunch of orange pill bottles scattered around her. She must've dropped her purse.

"Oh, shit!" She exclaims, trying to catch some of the bottles before they roll away. You go to help her pick them up, but you stop as she begins to speak, clearly to Lilith. "Levatol, Enalapril, Digoxin. He likes me to carry them around. If I left it up to him he'd be popping 'em like M&Ms. He could OD on these things, you know?"

Sam finishes gathering all the bottles and goes back to the chair she was sitting in. "Can't say I'll miss them. A lot of cute purses I haven't been able to use over the last year."

"I didn't know you did that," Lilith says softly, looking down at the ground. It's obvious she's taking in the fact Sam cares deeply for Clay. Why else would she cart around all his medicines like that? You don't do that for someone you're not serious about. "That you carried his meds around."

It feels as if there's about to be some big turning point for the two women right now, so you stay hovering by the vending machine, not wanting to get in the way of whatever moment they're about to have. You only hope it turns out well and doesn't become a screaming match.

"I tried not to like him. I honestly did," Sam starts. "Lilith, I know how much he means to you."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Lilith asks defensively. You barely know the woman and yet you can tell all of this is incredibly hard for her to fathom. Her son got married right under her nose and now he's in a life threatening surgery that she has no idea if he'll survive. You can't even imagine where her head must be at right now.

"I want you to tell him that he's as good as his father. I want you to tell him that it's okay to love me, and I want you to tell me that it's okay to love him back. He's already lost one parent, he can't lose another. He needs you. I'm not a bad person. I mean if you could just give us your blessing—"

There's a rawness and urgency in Sam's tone. At this point she has nothing left to lose. It's clear she's hanging on to every second Lilith is giving her, using every bit of that time to try and convince this powerful woman that she's deserving of her son. A part of you aches for her. To have a love you're willing to fight for is a rare thing, and you think anyone who's willing to sacrifice everything for the one they love deserves happiness.

"Okay, just stop talking." Lilith holds up her hand and that immediately causes Sam to halt her efforts. You prepare for the worst, but what Clay's mom does next shocks you. "Just make sure he takes his meds and...stop talking."

"What?" Sam asks, her eyes going slightly wide at Lilith's...acceptance?

"He has horrible allergies. Did you know that? Especially in the spring. Grass and flowers." You watch as Sam wastes no time in wrapping her arms around Lilith, bringing her in for a long awaited hug. The sight makes you smile. "Don't think this means I'm gonna be visiting every week."

Sam holds on a little longer and you can see Lilith start to stiffen a bit at the contact. She's not fully there yet, but you can tell this family is going to be okay. You may not know the whole story, but it's clear there's a lot of love involved. "Okay. Okay, let go. All right." Lilith chuckles a little and the two of them break apart, settling back into each of their respective seats.

You take this as your sign that it's all clear to take your seat again. You walk up and catch Sam's eye, you give her a warm smile and she gives you one in return. That glow she had around Clay earlier is back and you can tell this interaction she had with Lilith has lifted her spirits. That little envious feeling you had earlier too comes back, but you push it aside. Now is not the time.

As you sit down in between Sam and Lilith again, you open your drink and take a long sip. The cool liquid runs down your throat and you relish in the refreshing feeling. It feels like you've all been here for ages. You're starting to pick up on the feeling your friends and family must've had when you had your own heart transplant surgery. This waiting game is definitely not easy, and you'd give anything to get some answers.

Clay's wife must feel the same because not a second later she leans towards you and Lilith. "You know what? I'm gonna try and find out what's going on."

You both give Sam nods of encouragement, seeing it as the best bet. You thought about maybe trying to use your status as an employee as leverage to try and get some information, but the fact you're off the clock mixed with the fact you're not part of Clay's family had you second guessing doing that. Thankfully Sam's taking one for the team. "Sit tight, you two. I'll be right back."

The brunette walks off towards two doctors who have congregated in the hallway and you strain your ears to try and hear what they have to say, it's useless though, everyone talking in hushed tones.

There's a doctor in blue scrubs off to the right of Sam and you watch as he makes his way towards her. You've personally never seen him around before, but maybe he's new or he's been called in to help on a surgery. Whatever the case may be, you just hope he has some answers about Clay and his condition.

"You're not a doctor at this hospital!" You hear Sam bite out, and the comment leaves you confused. "I mean, you don't work here, do you?" She finishes in hushed tones, but it's just loud enough for you to hear, and by the looks of it so did Lilith. The two of you share a puzzling look, not understanding why Sam would say something like that. You chalk it up to the fact maybe Sam just hasn't seen this specific doctor before. You're sure she's decently familiar with Clay's team, so of course she'd have some questions if someone completely new is working on his surgery.

You give Lilith an assuring smile, trying to ease any worries she may have. She gives you one too, but you can tell it's not genuine. She goes back to holding her scarf close to her chest, no doubt what she's using to ground herself, and you mentally sigh. As with any patient's family, you want to give Lilith some sort of comfort to hold onto. A positive update. Good news on Clay's recovery. Anything at all. But alas, you're not able to offer anything and that alone breaks your heart.

Sam walks away from the doctor and you watch as she retreats down a hallway. You're not sure where she plans on going or how she plans on getting some answers, but maybe she knows something you don't. Clay is a high profile patient, to be fair. She could know a way to get access that you haven't heard of yet. Whatever it is Sam is doing, you just hope she's quick. You're not sure how much longer Lilith will be able to hold out without any information.

*****

It seems like hours before Sam makes her way back to the waiting room. In reality it was probably only ten to fifteen minutes, but every minute feels like an hour when it comes to something like this.

As the newest Mrs. Beresford walks towards you and Lilith, you watch as Clay's mother immediately springs to her feet.

"Is he okay? Is everything okay?"

"They wouldn't say," Sam offers. All that time gone and she has nothing to report? There's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that says none of this is right, things aren't adding up, but you let it go the minute you catch a glimpse of Lilith's face; a mix of both relief at no bad news, but also nerves from no good news either.

"You were gone so long. I started—" Lilith rolls her head back, her shoulders slumping.

"I know, I know. I'm scared too," Sam sympathizes.

The brunette rubs the arms of the older woman before leading her back to her chair. She smiles and nods at you, and you try your best not to make anything of her shifty gaze. It feels almost as if she doesn't want you too close, seeing past anything she's giving Lilith.

It must be paranoia, nothing solid has happened to make it seem like something is going on. Sam is a nice girl, she probably can just tell you have the hots for her husband, and as the clock ticks closer and closer to his surgery finishing, you're sure she's just becoming a little uncomfortable sharing such a personal time with you.

You technically are just a random doctor she met today who had a heartfelt conversation with her significant other and is now sitting with her and her mother-in-law during his life altering surgery. When you put it into perspective, the untrustworthy atmosphere seems to make a bit more sense.

Shaking it off, you readjust yourself in your chair. With no news at all, who knows how much longer it's going to be. Might as well get comfortable.

*****

"Something's wrong." Lilith's voice breaks you out of the trance you've found yourself in. For who knows how long now you've been trying to ground yourself. You're not sure why you're feeling so affected. Maybe it's because you do have a soft spot for Clay. Maybe it's the realization of how scary it is to care for someone going through a heart transplant. Maybe it's a coping mechanism to try and tune out the fact the three of you haven't spoken since Sam came back, anxiety striking you all silent. "I can feel that something's wrong."

"What Is it?" You ask Lilith, noticing her stricken expression the moment you look towards her.

"I can't just sit here like this. They should have told us something by now."

Sam straightens in her seat beside you, no doubt gearing up to try and calm Clay's mom. "Listen to me."

"No, you don't understand. He's not just my son. I was a kid when I had him."

"He's gonna be fine," Sam assures, shifting her gaze between Lilith and you, nodding her head. Your nervousness is probably written all over your face.

"We've grown up together. It's me and him," Lilith continues.

Sam has a contemplative look on her face, and you find yourself having deja vu. You take this as your opportunity to offer Lilith some comfort and advice, much like you did with Clay earlier today. Although, that seems so long ago now.

"He's not gonna die. Not now, not today," you say as you turn your body towards her. Confidence—or something—must overtake you because you find yourself reaching for her hand, feeling the slight shake in them. A mother's worries.

"How can you be so sure?" She whispers, not pulling away from your light grip.

With all the sincerity you can muster you whisper to her, "Because he's got too much to live for."

You can see the shimmer of tears brimming Lilith's eyes as she takes in your words. In an instant, you feel her squeeze your hand, no doubt trying to thank you for your words without having to actually say so, her voice unreliable at this point with the amount of emotion lodged in her throat.

You simply nod your head, letting her know you understand completely. What you said isn't bullshit, it's genuinely how you feel. It's clear as day that Clay is surrounded by two women who love him very much. There's no doubt in your mind that he laid down on that operating table today with every intention of waking up and going back to them.

The thought squeezes your own heart that you fought so hard for. To love is to be loved, and you're happy that Clay has a good support system around him to guide him through what is no doubt going to be hell for a little while. You remember your own restless days and recovery process. Lilith and Sam may not know exactly what Clay is gonna go through, but you're sure they'll do all they can to help him.

*****

You're the first to notice Dr. Harper walking towards you along with the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You lightly tap both Lilith and Sam with each of your hands to grab their attention. This is it.

"So?" Lilith questions after getting to her feet. Harper immediately shakes his head and your stomach drops.

"He rejected the heart." Four words. Four words is all it takes to completely throw you off balance. "We did everything we could, but the organ failed, and I am so sorry."

No, there's no way.

You feel Sam fall to her seat beside you and you wonder how it must feel for her. She married the love of her life not even a day ago and in just a few hours she lost him. You can't imagine a worse heartbreak.

"The organ failed?" Lilith questions, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Yes, it wouldn't respond to the procedure. But in cases like this, it's not uncommon for—"

"Don't you mean you failed?" Lilith cuts him off, and you can tell at any minute she might lose it. You can't blame her, you'd do the same in her position. You're positive Dr. Harper did all he can to save Clay, but this was a risk you were all well aware of. You just never thought it'd actually happen.

"No, we...we did everything that we could. It's just an imperfect procedure." Harper shakes his head and you can tell by the look on his face that this has broken him just as much as the rest of you. You don't know him or Clay that well, but it's clear they had a genuine friendship. He will never recover from this.

"Say it," Lilith bites out.

"Say what?"

"I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear you say you failed my son." Dr. Harper stands there in shock as Lilith walks away from him and sits on the opposite side of the aisle of chairs. "It shouldn't have been you. It should never have been you. I fucking knew it."

"I'm sorry, Sam." Harper whispers before slightly turning and barely meeting your eyes. "Y/N."

He leaves the room and all that's left is you, Sam, Lilith, and the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You find yourselves in utter silence. No other sounds can be heard besides the distant noises of other lives being saved and others being unfortunately lost. You think about how many more families will be devastated tonight just like the Beresfords. The thought pains you.

"I'm afraid we're gonna need your permission to take him off bypass." The doctor's words cause you to glance up at him. He stands tentatively at Mrs. Beresford's side.

"What?" She asks, looking over at him with tears streaming down her face.

"We'll need your permission," He says again, taking a seat next to her. "I'm so sorry to have to ask."

"I don't understand," Lilith shakes her head. "He's alive."

"Yes, but his blood's being pumped by a machine. He has no heart."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the image that's planted itself in your mind. You've seen countless people be put on bypass, it's your job, but it makes you feel sick to think about Clay being in that position with no way out. His chest open on that table with no heart inside to make him better again. You hate it. He deserved better.

"Then get him another heart," Clay's mother demands, not understanding the full severity of the situation. There is no other heart. You've heard enough about Clay and his case to know this one was a miracle as it is. To get another heart on such short notice, whilst also not having Clay on bypass for too long a time, is impossible.

"You don't understand. His blood type's too rare. We don't have one. I'm sorry. It's over." The doctor explains softly. Lilith merely thanks him before standing up and making her way to the corner of the waiting room, scarf still clutched in her hands.

"I'll be in the hallway," the doctor says before walking away form you all.

"Lilith," Sam says as she gets up from her seat.

"Could you leave me alone for a minute?" Lilith stops her in her tracks, not wanting Sam's comfort right now.

"Okay," she complies before walking away, going who knows where.

For a moment it's just you and Clay's mom. Nothing is said between the two of you, but just by looking at her you can tell she's struggling to keep it together.

You stand, taking a small step closer to the woman before softy calling out her name. "Lilith."

Suddenly, her eyes narrow slightly, a look of determination overtaking her grief-stricken features. "I'm going to the cafeteria. I need a moment alone."

She doesn't even await your answer as she swiftly makes her way around the chairs and towards the hallway, but not before snatching Sam's purse out of one of the chairs. You don't even question it at this point, you'd do just about anything else before standing in the way of a grieving mother.

*****

Time passes, and that nagging feeling you had earlier that something is severely wrong comes crawling back. Lilith still isn't back from the cafeteria yet, and you haven't seen Sam since Lilith asked her to leave.

You do the only thing that feels right. You go after Lilith. She's Clay's mother. If something is going on, she'd be the only one you could trust to tell you the truth. You need to talk to her, see if she feels the same way. You don't understand how this all could've gone south so fast.

Quickly making your way to the cafeteria, you looking around at all the tables and chairs, trying to find Lilith as quickly as possible. When you do finally spot her, what you see has your breath catching in your throat.

"Lilith!" You cry, rushing over to her secluded table. When you reach her, she's just finished shoving multiple pills in her mouth. You recognize the bottles as the same ones that fell out of Sam's purse earlier. Lilith has taken Clay's medication. She's trying to OD. "What have you done!? I need to get help."

Before you're able to rush off and call someone over to help you, Lilith has her hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "No! Please, don't."

"Why are you doing this? What's going on? I came to find you because I think something's wrong with what happened to Clay but-but-" You feel tears start to brim your eyes. Even though you hardly know the woman before you, you can't imagine her taking her own life. The pain she must be feeling is insurmountable, but she can't do this. She can't.

"Let me explain, please. I don't have much time." Lilith urges you to sit down and you do so immediately. The quicker she gets out whatever she needs to say, the quicker you can go for help and save her life. There's no way you're losing both Beresfords tonight.

"What is it?" You urge, leaning towards her in your seat, the anticipation and stress eating you up.

"I had a feeling something was going on, I knew it from the beginning, but I kept telling myself I was just paranoid. My suspicions were confirmed though when I found this." Lilith pauses to reach into Sam's purse, pulling out a small stack of envelopes and handing them to you.

"What is this?" You look down at the letters Lilith has given you and your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you notice Sam's name on them. Except, on each letter, she has one of two different last names. On some of her letters her name is Samantha Lockwood, but on others, specifically one from Varick University (a nursing school), it says her name is Samantha Tunnell. You feel like you're gonna throw up, quickly catching on to where this might be going.

"She's not who she says she is. It only took me a second to put it together after that. She's been to this hospital before. Think about it; the vending machine she somehow knew how to work? The nurse asking if he'd seen her before? Her saying one of Clay's doctors didn't work at this hospital? How would she know any of that stuff? I don't know the exact specifics, but they're all in on it, all of them! They tried to kill my son, they are killing him unless I do something about it."

"Lilith, I'm sorry there's nothing we can do. There's no other heart for Clay. His blood type—"

"Is the same as mine."

Lilith's sentence sends your mind reeling. Suddenly, the picture becomes clear.

She's going to give him her heart.

"Lilith, if what you're saying is true—"

"It is, and I need you to let me do it. I've already called Dr. Neyer, he's on his way to perform the transplant, I don't trust anyone else. It's happening and it's happening fast so please, listen to me. I need you to do me a favor, Y/N."

You're stunned silent. There are no words to describe what's happening right now. It was just supposed to be a heart transplant. The anticipation of waiting for Clay to make it out on the other side was supposed to be the most nerve-racking event of the day, but suddenly his murder plot is.

Trusted medical staff. His best friend. His wife. All in on it. Your stomach churns and your heart races, but as you stare at Lilith, you realize just how serious she is. How dead set she is on changing the story these horrible people have written.

Gone is the poised woman who was married to a business tycoon. What remains is merely a mother doing everything she can to save her only child. You'd find it admirable if you weren't already feeling so frightened and worried about it all.

What she's set in motion cannot be undone, and as she stares at you eagerly, hoping you'll agree, you can't help but to take a leap of faith and do just that. "What can I do to help you?"

"Hold onto those letters like your life depends on it. Give them to the police directly the minute they get here. She cannot and will not get away with this. None of them will. But most importantly, what I need you to do is look after my son."

Lilith reaches out and grasps your hands in hers, much like you did earlier when you were assuring her Clay would not die today. Unlike earlier, though, her hands are no longer trembling. She is the most stoic you've seen her all day, and her determination is slowly but surely rubbing off on you.

"Lilith, I—" You can't find the right words to reply to her with. Obviously turning in evidence to the police is a no brainer, but looking after Clay? A man you met not even 24 hours ago. Your heart knows it's right, but your head is trying to reason otherwise.

"It's okay, I know it's a big ask, but please Y/N. Clay will have no one else on his side after tonight. I know you just met me, just met him, but for some reason I trust you wholly. I can tell your heart is pure. You stayed by Clay's side just for the mere fact you wanted to be there for him. You know personally what he's gonna go through after he wakes up from that surgery. I have no one else to turn to, no one else to ask. I know it's not fair of me, but I need you. He needs you."

Your heart swells. Emotions run wild through your mind, only one thought clear amongst the chaos. You have to do this, you have to do what she's asking. You want to. God knows no one else will get it all like you do. No one else will understand Clay and be there for him to answer any questions he may have. You truly will be all he's got.

With tears slipping down your cheeks, you nod your head. "Yes, absolutely. I'll do it, Lilith. I promise I won't let you down, I won't let Clay down."

"Good," she smiles, her eyes starting to droop closed. No doubt the concoction of pills she downed working their way through her bloodstream. Any minute now her body will shut down. Her heart will stop beating. She'll never wake up again. "Now hurry. Go find Neyers. He should be here any minute if he's not already. Bring him here and make sure he gets started right away. Clay doesn't have much time."

Noting your head, you stand up from the table, removing one of your hands from Lilith's grasp to wipe away your endless tears. Before you can take back your other hand, Clay's mother squeezes it tightly, causing you to look directly at her.

"Thank you," she whispers, her body slumping back in her chair, her head beginning to lean on the wall to her right. "Clay deserves someone like you."

You smile weakly at the woman, your heart squeezing for more reasons than one. "Goodbye, Lilith."

The older woman lets go of your hand and uses it to prop her head up. To anyone walking by she just looks like a tired loved one, looking to pass the time in the hospital cafeteria. But you know what's really going on. You watch as her breathing slows, her chest rising and falling less and less as the seconds tick by. It'll be any second now, but you can't bear to witness her final moment. Instead, you do as she asked and haul ass to the hospital entrance, looking for the man who's going to save the life of the Beresford heir.

*****

Knowing Clay was going under the knife a second time was no easier than the first time. Dr. Neyer is an incredibly capable doctor, but considering the events of today, you could say you're still a bit uneasy.

There was no way you were going back to that waiting room from earlier, you'd rather walk around aimlessly for hours instead of reliving those moments again and again in your mind. You're beating yourself up over the fact you didn't truly notice anything was off earlier. If you just would've trusted your gut feeling a little more or asked a few more questions, maybe things could've been different.

You shake those thoughts away, though, knowing there's nothing to be done now. What's done is done and all you can do is hope and wait for Clay to get out of that surgery safe and sound.

After meeting up with Neyer and the police, you discovered they already caught Puttnam and Penny. They're still looking for Harper and Sam, but you're sure they'll catch them soon. They're in this hospital somewhere and there's no way they're coming out of it without wearing handcuffs. There's officers at every exit, so it's just a matter of time.

Your sadness and confusion has morphed into anger now. You feel betrayed for Clay and his family, and you feel betrayed for yourself for the fact these doctors you trusted turned out to be nothing but heartless, greedy monsters. These people who you looked up to, who you wanted to be like, are nothing but frauds.

Heat starts to travel up your neck, and the feeling only intensifies when a loud noise ahead of you catches your attention and you spot a familiar brunette trying to open a locked door.

"Hey, Mrs. Beresford," you call out, Sam's head instantly snapping in your direction. "Or should I call you Ms. Lockwood? Or Ms. Tunnell? Or I know! How about just Sam? Considering that seems to be the only name that stays consistent through all your different identities."

Samantha smirks as she stalks towards you, a look of smugness all over her face. It's hilarious how she clearly thinks she's won. If only she knew how far from the truth that is.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she sighs. "All I'm doing is looking for some answers on my husband's death. I'm just the grieving widow, remember?"

Your blood boils at her comments. How dare she feign innocence when she's probably the one who killed Clay. Your mind goes back to when she was gone from the waiting room for so long, looking for updates on Clay's surgery. She was probably meeting up with all of them, planning on what they were gonna do next. It takes everything in you not to lunge for the woman before you.

"Cut the shit, Sam! I know what you did, and so do the police. Nice work on carrying around your mail with you. Couldn't even cover up your tracks properly. You'll never get away with this no matter how hard you try or how many fake tears you cry."

Sam's smirk falters. She knows she's caught. You can see the realization flash in her eyes. Her mistakes, her missteps, her failures.

"Oh, please," she scoffs, trying to gain back the upper hand. "And who are you, exactly? Nothing but a wannabe surgeon with a little crush on someone else's husband. Real nice."

"Yeah? At least I'm not a killer. And unlike you, I am a surgeon, which is more than you'll ever be while you're locked up behind bars." Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to the side and call over your shoulder, "She's over here, officers!"

Sam's eyes widen, quickly realizing you had her right where you wanted her. You saw the police officers coming up the hallway off to your right, you just had to buy them some time so they could catch up to you and arrest Sam once and for all.

Now it's your turn to have the smug look on your face as the officers rush past you and get Sam down on the ground. She never even had a chance to try and outrun them.

Walking over to the woman on the ground, you squat down to try and be more in her line of vision. You really wanna make sure she understands the words you're about to utter.

"Oh and, Sam?" You start, practically batting your eyelashes at her as she glares at you. "It's ex-husband now. And trust me, I'll take real good care of him for you."

The woman practically screams as you stand back up and turn on your heel towards the recovery rooms. Clay will be out of surgery soon and you wanna make sure you're there for him when he wakes up.

As you turn the corner, you spare a quick glance back down the way you came. Although you wish everything that happened today never occurred, it gives you great satisfaction to see the officers yank Sam up off the ground and practically drag her towards the exit.

Good, you think. She'll get what she deserves.

*****

After several more hours, you've found yourself sat in a recovery room. Finally.

Not long after the police apprehended Sam, they found Harper and arrested him. He was just sat in his office, evidence laid out on his desk. He was ready for them. If you had to guess, he's probably the only one out of that group who genuinely feels remorse for what they did. You find it hard to sympathize with him at this current moment, though.

Dr. Neyer informed you the surgery went well. They lost Clay right at the end but thankfully were able to bring him back one final time. He lays in front of you now on a hospital bed, the beeping of his heart monitor and his soft breathing the only sounds filling the room.

It's been a few hours since they brought Clay here, and you used that time to catch up on some much needed sleep after being up for nearly twenty-four hours. It was a quick nap, but you feel much better.

You're still trying to process everything that happened. Even with Clay laying here in front of you like this, you and him being the only ones in the room, it still doesn't feel real. Part of you thinks that maybe you'll wake up at any moment and it'll all have been a dream. Another part of you worries that it's all too real, and that there's a chance Clay might not wake up.

Dr. Neyers stopped in a few minutes ago and informed you that Clay should be waking up any minute now. He might be a bit groggy but he would be awake nonetheless.

You’ve practically jumped out of your seat every other second since then each time you thought you saw movement. So far still nothing, but you’re hopeful it’ll be soon. You need it to be. You promised Clay’s mom you’d look after him, and you don’t plan on breaking that promise anytime soon.

Sighing, you get up from your spot in the chair next to Clay’s bed and instead take a seat to the left of him, your hip brushing his blanket covered thigh as you try not to fall off the side.

He looks peaceful as he lays there sleeping. So innocent from all the horrors that went on while he was in surgery. You dread the moment you’ll have to fill him in on all that happened. When you’ll have to tell him his mom—the woman he loves so dearly—is dead.

Emotion floods you and you try not to let it take you over. Instead you reach forward and grab Clay’s right hand in yours. His skin is warm and soft under your touch and you find comfort in it. You hope that when he does wake up, he’ll find comfort in yours too.

Rubbing your thumb back and forth over Clay’s knuckles, you look over at the EKG machine he’s hooked up to. His heart rate is steady, strong. You’re glad he made it out of the surgery, it’s rare people make it out of one transplant, yet alone two on the same day. Clay’s strong, you know he’ll get through this. He has to. His mom died to save his life and you don’t know a worse tragedy than one where neither one of them makes it out of this. The thought alone—

Your head snaps forward instantly. You wait a second and when it happens again you know you’re not just imagining it.

Clay’s hand squeezed yours. Twice!

Leaning forward, you watch as Clay’s eyes shift back and forth under his eyelids before finally, finally, they open. Immediately you’re met with two pale blue eyes.

He’s awake.

“Clay,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him. His eyes quickly find yours and you smile as you feel him squeeze your hand again. “Hey there. You’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay.”

Clay tilts his head to the side and you watch as he feebly attempts to sit up, no doubt trying to get some water. He winces and gives up immediately. You know that pain all too well.

“I got it, it’s okay. Don’t move.” Reaching over, you grab the small cup of water you poured a bit earlier incase Clay wanted it when he woke up. You hold the straw for him and bring it forward, allowing him to take a few sips. He tilts his head back when he’s done and you place the cup back on his bedside table.

“Thank you,” he croaks out, his voice raspier than normal. Even though you figured that would be the case, the deeper sound still takes you by surprise. You try not to take enjoyment in the sound, all things considered.

The blonde clears his throat and reality hits you as you realize you’ll now have to do the thing you’ve been dreading; telling Clay everything. You’re not sure where to begin, but you figure the beginning is probably the best place to start.

“Clay,” you say, uneasiness already settling in your voice. “I have to tell you something.”

A beat passes and as you go to continue, Clay beats you to it. “My mother is dead.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “How-How do you know that?”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath before saying, “I know everything. About Jack, Puttnam, and Penny. About-About Sam.” Pain crosses Clay’s features, but you’d bet anything that this time it isn’t physical. “When I was under, I wasn’t actually asleep. I don’t know how to describe it other than saying it was an out of body experience. I saw everything, heard everything, felt everything.”

“Oh, Clay,” you sigh, your heart breaking at his words. Immediately you know what he’s referring to. Intraoperative awareness is rare, and to think Clay was experiencing it during one of the worst possible surgeries and during one of the worst possible times absolutely blows your mind. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“What do you remember last?” You ask him. You don’t want to push Clay, but you need to know if there’s any gaps you need to fill in for him. Does he know he’s safe? Does he know everyone who tried to hurt him last night is never going to get near him again?

“The last thing I remember is talking to my mother,” he says it almost as a whisper and the sound nearly brings tears to your eyes. “She told me what she did, what she asked you to do. I get why she did it, but God, I just—“

Clay cuts himself off, tears beginning to fall from his eyes and down his pale cheeks. The sight tears you in two and causes tears of your own to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Clay.” Your voice cracks, the ability to hide any emotion completely disappearing. You reach out and brush away some of Clay’s tears with your thumb. The man practically melts into your touch and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to just wrap him in your arms and tell him it’s all gonna be okay.

“Did the cops catch them all, at least?” There’s resentment in his tone that you don’t blame him for at all. You can’t even begin to imagine the betrayal he must feel right now.

“Every single one of them. They’re all on their way to the station right now if they’re not already there. The evidence is solid, they’re never gonna see the light of day again and if they do it’ll be when they’re old and gray. You’re safe, Clay. I promise you that.”

The businessman nods his head and you can see him relax a little bit more. Silence settles over the two of you again, but it’s comfortable. Clay has also retaken ahold of your hand and this time he’s the one rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Even though he’s the one that’s been through hell, he’s trying to comfort you. The thought makes you chuckle lightly and Clay smiles at the sound.

“Before all the doctors and cops realize I’m awake and start flooding in, I just wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry.” The blue-eyed man looks at you sincerely and you find yourself trying to hold back a frown.

“Clay, you don’t have to thank me for anything, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no control over what happened to you, over what these people did to you and your family.”

“I know, but you also didn’t have to get wrapped up in it. I should never have asked you to stay earlier. You were going home and I should’ve respected that and let you go. And my mother asking you to look after me? It’s too much, you don’t deserve—“

“Clay Beresford, stop it right now. Don’t you dare feel guilty about anything. No one forced me to stay here and no one forced me to accept what your mother was asking of me. I did it all on my own. The first time we spoke I told you that no matter what I’d be here for you, in whatever way you may need me, and I meant that. No matter what happened or no matter what will happen, I’m here for you and I don’t want you to ever feel like that’s a burden on me. That you’re a burden on me. We met for a reason and even though what’s happened after that is horrible, I will never take that for granted. I care about you, Clay, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Clay just lays there and smiles up at you, reveling in the passionate look on your face and in your eyes. He saw it yesterday when you guys met and talked about his fears and thoughts on the surgery. He admires your ability to speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and how you feel. People like you are rare to him, and he feels incredibly lucky to have found you.

“You don’t know how badly I wish I could hug you right now.” The two of you burst into laughter but Clay’s laughs are suddenly cut short when he groans at the ache in his chest. “Ugh, I’m definitely not gonna get used to that.”

You try to tame your laughter, not wanting to trigger Clay to start laughing and hurt himself again. “Trust me when I say it’ll get better…eventually.”

Clay smirks before sighing, his eyes finding yours. “Seriously, though. Thank you for everything. I can’t imagine not having you by my side right now or what would’ve happened if I didn’t have that conversation with you yesterday. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, no matter how little time we’ve known each other.”

Heat rises up your neck and into your cheeks at his kind words. To think this is where you’ve found yourself when you didn’t even personally know this man twenty-four hours ago. It’s funny how life works sometimes. “You’re welcome, Clay. I appreciate you too.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door and not a second later Dr. Neyers walks in, clipboard in hand. “Good morning, Clayton. We have a lot to discuss.”

Clay nods his head and the two of you share a look. Clay would never say it, but you know he thinks it’s best if he handles this part on his own. He and Neyers have a lot to go over and you’re sure the officers that were walking around the hall earlier will be in to speak with him soon as well. You’ll be here when he needs you, though. You always will.

“I’m gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. I’ll be back, but call me if you need me.” Clay nods his head and you quickly grab his cellphone from the table before placing it next to his hand. That way he won’t have to try and reach for it if he does need you before you get back.

Dr. Neyers gives you a small smile before you walk out of the room and close the door behind you. The click of the door handle fills the silence of the empty hallway and you find yourself grateful for it. You were worried your coworkers would be standing around waiting for any and all updates on Clay, and more specifically you and Clay.

When you were making your way to Clay’s room after the surgery, you caught a few of the nurses and other residents whispering to each other in the hall, no doubt trying to figure out why you’re suddenly involved in Clay’s case. You definitely can’t wait to see what the story is when you come back to work tomorrow. This hospital sure is gossipy.

The walk to the cafeteria is peaceful, though, and that’s only broken when your phone starts buzzing in your bag. You reach in and grab it and nearly laugh out loud at the message on your screen.

Jill:

Umm why did I just overhear people talking about you being here all night with Clay!? What happened, is he okay??? And why are there cops all over the place??? Fill me in on everything!!!

Oh, God, you think. Where do I even begin?

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x female reader #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen imagines #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford x you #clay beresford x y/n #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford fanfiction #requested

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acknowledge-reigns · 2 days ago

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Rivals With Benefits | Jey x Black!fem OC (18+)

Description: Jey and Jax disagree on plans for Roman and Iris engagemennt party.

Chapter: 1/5

Face Claim: Ariana Debose.

Warnings: Arguing, Mild Angst, Strong language.

This is set in an AU in which the og bloodline reunited before wrestlemania 40 and Roman retained. This is the Jey x Jax sequel to Swipe Right. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. While there is not smut in Chapter 1, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. This particular story features Jey as a Daddy Dom (Not Mysterio, you fucking nerds 😂) google if necessary and if this isn't for you, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 1,867

My masterlist can be found here

Iris and Roman sat down with Jax and Jey to discuss the details of their engagement party. They'd decided against the stereotypical Bachlorette and bachelor party and just wanted to have one big gathering. After some discussion, they decided to leave the planning to the two of them, knowing that they could handle it.

However, as soon as they started planning, it became clear that Jax and Jey were not on the same page. They argued about everything from the venue to the guest list to the menu. Just like their first date.

Jax was frustrated with Jey's need to control everything. "Why do you always have to be in charge?" she snapped. "Can't you just trust me to make some decisions for once?"

Jey rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Jax's accusation. "I'm not trying to control anything," he retorted. "I just want things to be perfect, and that includes every little detail."

Jax scoffed, not believing him for a second. "You always have to have everything your way," she retorted. "It's not about perfection, it's about finding a balance and making decisions together."

"Roman will have my head if we fuck this up and upset Iris. You're not bloodline. You don't get it." Jey snapped.

Jax was taken aback by Jey's harsh words, but she refused to back down. "You think I don't care about Iris's happiness? she's my big sister!" she retorted, her voice shaking slightly. "And just because I'm not part of your 'bloodline' doesn't mean I don't understand what it means to be family. you are so full of yourself!"

Jey's face darkened at Jax's comment, his eyes narrowing. "I am full of myself?" he said through gritted teeth. "You're the one who can't seem to get past our first date, even a full year later. You still hold it against me."

Jax clenched her fists, feeling the familiar anger and hurt bubbling up inside her. "Of course I do," she snapped. "You were arrogant and dismissive. You didn't even try to make me feel comfortable."

"I was trying to be a gentleman!" Jey argued back.

Jax let out a derisive laugh. "Oh please," she said sarcastically. "A gentleman doesn't ignore his date's feelings and make her feel like a fool."

Jey's jaw clenched tighter, his anger rising. "You're impossible," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "You never give me a chance to explain myself or make things right. You just assume the worst of me."

"And you never take responsibility for your actions," Jax shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. "You always blame everyone else for everything. I'm sick of it. You want to control everything because you lack control in your professional and family life because you let Roman push you around like a little bitch!"

Jey's face twisted into a snarl at Jax's harsh words. He was used to being pushed around by Roman, but hearing it from Jax felt like a personal attack. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides.

Jax crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "Oh, I think I do," she retorted. "You're a yes man, always doing what your lil tribal chief tells you to do. It's like you have no spine or thoughts of your own."

Jey's anger reached its peak. He took a step forward, his body tensed like a coiled spring. "You think you know everything, don't you?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. "But you're just as controlling as I am. You always have to have your way, and when things don't go according to plan, you throw a tantrum like a damn child."

Jax's eyes narrowed, and she met his gaze head-on. "At least I admit it when I'm wrong," she shot back. "You just wallow in your own stubbornness and blame everyone else for your mistakes."

Jax took a deep breath, realizing that they were both getting nowhere with this argument. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. When she opened them again, she looked directly at Jey, her expression softening slightly.

"Look. I'm sorry," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I know we have our differences, but we need to work together for this engagement party. Can we just try to put our differences aside and make this work?"

Jey was taken aback by Jax's apology. He wasn't expecting her to back down so easily, but he could see the sincerity in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, letting go of some of his own anger. "I'm sorry too," he said, his voice softer now. "I shouldn't have let our past get in the way of our planning. Let's try to focus on making this engagement party a success."

Jax nodded, relieved that they had managed to reach a truce. "Good," she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Now, let's go over our ideas again, without all the yelling this time."

They sat down again, this time in a more relaxed atmosphere. Jey took out his notes and went over his ideas for the engagement party. He explained his vision for the decorations, the food, and the entertainment, with Jax listening intently.

To her surprise, Jey had put a lot of thought into the details and had even taken into account her preferences. She was touched by his effort to make the party special for Iris and Roman. But she damn sure wasn't going to admit it.

As Jey continued to share his ideas, Jax found herself nodding along, agreeing with many of his suggestions. She had to admit that he had a good eye for detail and had a great sense of what would make Iris and Roman happy.

She started to feel a sense of gratitude towards him, realizing that they could work well together when they put their minds to it.

"I have to say," Jax said after Jey finished speaking, "your plan is actually.. alright I guess. I think it will make for a wonderful engagement party."

Jey's face lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. "Really?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. "You're okay with it?"

Jax smiled at him. "Yes, I am," she said firmly. "You've put a lot of thought into it, and it's clear that you want to make this day special for my sister and Roman. I trust your judgment on this one."

"But we are NOT serving waffle house" Jax added

Jey chuckled, remembering the heated argument they had about food earlier. "Aight, fine." he said with a nod. "We can skip the waffle house and find something else that's more upscale and appropriate for an engagement party."

"Look at you growing up." Jax teased in response.

Jey rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smirk at her teasing. "I've always been mature," he retorted playfully. "You just refuse to acknowledge it."

"Yeah yeah yeah. As if, Yeet-man." Jax couldn't hold back her chuckle.

Jey shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're literally insufferable."

Jax suddenly remembered the harsh words she had said earlier about Roman and how they had affected Jey. She knew she had crossed a line, and it was time to apologize again.

"Jey," she said, her voice sincere. "I want to apologize again for what I said earlier about Roman. It was uncalled for and I know it hurt you. I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry."

Jey's expression softened at Jax's apology. He had been hurt by her words, but he could tell that she was genuinely sorry.

"It's okay," he said quietly, his voice filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I know you didn't mean it. But you're right, Roman does push me around sometimes, and it can be frustrating."

Jax could see the frustration and pain in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman. She realized that there was a lot more going on beneath the surface than she had initially thought.

"You know," she said softly, "you deserve better than being treated like a puppet. You have your own strengths and talents, and you should be able to stand up for yourself more."

Jey nodded, his expression contemplative. "I know," he said, his voice laced with resignation. "But it's hard to break away from Roman's control. He's been in charge for so long, and it's just... easier to let him take the lead. Besides, it used to be much worse."

"I can't believe Iris is marrying into this soap opera" Jax said.

Jey chuckled wryly at her comment. "I know, right?" he said, shaking his head. "It's a real mess. But at the end of the day, I'm just happy that Roman has found love and happiness with Iris."

Jax nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm happy for them too," she said. "And even though Roman can be a bit... intense, I have to admit that he's been good for her. She's never been happier than when she's with him."

Jey leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing distant as he thought about Roman and Iris's relationship.

"Roman is... different with Iris," he said quietly. "He's more patient, more affectionate, more open. He treats her like a queen and dotes on her every need. It's almost as if he's a completely different person when he's with her. She makes him better."

Jax could see the affection in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman's relationship with Iris. It was clear that despite their differences, he cared deeply for his cousin.

"I've never seen him like this before," Jey continued, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Jax took a moment to think about what Jey had said before asking, "You know, you said that Roman's different with Iris. Do you think you'll ever have someone who brings out that side of you too?"

Jey looked down at his hands, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I hope so. But I've never really been lucky in love."

Jax's heart ached at Jey's words. She had never seen him so vulnerable before. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she wasn't sure if he would welcome the gesture.

Jey could feel the silence growing heavier, and he looked up at Jax, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He was grateful that she hadn't offered any platitudes or empty reassurances, but at the same time, he was feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time.

Jax could see the vulnerability in Jey's eyes and knew that he needed some space to process his emotions. She didn't want to make him feel more uncomfortable, so she decided to change the subject.

"So, we've got a lot of planning to do," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's get back to it."

Jey nodded gratefully, glad for the change of subject. He quickly returned to the conversation about the engagement party, grateful to have something to focus on besides his own personal feelings.

"Right," he said, taking out his notes.

Prologue ●◉◎◈◎◉● Next Chapter

#Jey Uso #wwe jey uso #main event jey uso #jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fic #the usos #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #bloodline fanfiction #Spotify

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orleans-jester · 2 days ago

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She saw Koda looking behind him and she gave him a little peace sign with her fingers, bursting the bubble with her tongue. She watched her own rearview mirror and playfully moved to swerve next to the VW, her open window meaning that she could reach across and ruffle Dale’s curls.

After that, GoGo sped on ahead, feeling her groove the same way that Kuzco did when he had a guitar in hand, the same way that Valerie did with a microphone, the same way that Delta did when she had her wings out, the same way Frank did as he kicked at a suspended reporter, making his body sway on the hooks while he read.

GoGo had been a girl who fell in love with cars, a real engine geek, and didn’t have much love left over for people. Not even her family. Once it was clear that they weren’t going to understand her, that they were going to try to dictate her life as if she was anyone else, she had given up on them. They became roommates. They didn’t do family dinners, or going out together, or even celebrations of birthdays.

It had taken a while for the Laveaus to permeate through that. It wasn’t even as if Go-Go had big walls up, the way that Elsa did, trying to protect herself or thinking that she was protecting others. She just hadn’t even realized that there was a door that they could even knock on. But it had opened and - now, she couldn’t imagine a world without them, the same way she couldn’t imagine a world without cars.

Loud music coming out of stereos, the noises blending together during the split seconds that they were near one another. Her eyes would dart over to see who it was, and would make faces over at Scout if it was her, and then would chuckle to herself. Her heart was beating with the engine, almost feeling like they were one. As she went up in speed, plowing through a zombie or two, only flipping on the windshield wipers as her reaction, she thought to herself, ‘This is better than masturbating.’

Unlimited speed. No cops. No sirens. No one telling her to slow down. If someone got in the way, hit them. This is just what the Autobahn must be like.

The sounds of gunshots weren’t even unwelcome. They echoed through the empty streets, with no one looking out windows, or running for cover. They would be heard up from the tower, where Frank and Delta were busy, but weren’t bothering them much either. As long as it wasn’t pointed towards them, or their people, Frank didn’t give a fuck. He was too deep in … well, a fuck.

She would have kept going when Dale was out of the window, but realized a moment or two later when there weren’t any more headlights in her rearview mirrors. Curiously, she turned her own car around and encroached on the scene. She had her own window down and climbed out through her window, exactly like Dale had been sitting when he had been ejected.

It was rough seeing Dale laying on the ground, like a piece of roadkill. It was rough seeing Chip behind the crumpled hood of the car, the windshield broken, pieces of glass. It triggered something in her. She couldn’t move for a moment. It felt like she was underwater. She could just about hear the garbled voice of Dale talking to Scout, and Chip’s eyes being open as Koda got him out of the car.

Tadashi. The outline of him, the silhouette, against the fire as he had run in like he thought that he was fireproof. Like he was immortal. Like he was a goddamn hero. The situations were different but the feelings were the same in that moment, a clenching around her heart and her stomach, a sense of loss. Everyone was, thankfully, preoccupied with the twins and the body and texting while she had her moment or two of panic before she felt like she was able to breathe again.

She wasn’t thinking the clearest though. She climbed off of the car door, walking around the glass-littered ground, the blood-soaked asphalt in her bare feet, and approached Dale, still on the ground. The panic was still in her eyes, the tenseness of her bones, all of it. And what she did was lean down and gave Dale’s head a smack.

“You don’t get to come close to dying, do you hear me?” She said, and then realized that her own little hand was barely going to do anything to Dale’s head, not through those curls anyway. She took a short march towards the dead body, picked up an arm that had been driven over, detatched at the shoulder, and then used that arm to hit Dale again. “You stupid, egg-headed shitpuddle!”

After hitting him a third time with the arm, she threw it down and then ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her face to try to calm herself, taking deep breaths. “I’m not losing another friend,” She said in a quieter tone this time. It was only then that she seemed to realize what she had done. That there was a detatched arm beside her that had been attached to a body only seconds ago. She leaned down and then wiped her hand on Dale’s shirt because she wasn’t going to do it to her own dress.

While this was happening, Scout’s phone would get a text. Thomas was paying attention to his drunk wife, but also to his phone because he had meant what he had said when he offered to pick Ches up, all she had to do was text. Same with Scout, but that went without saying.

‘If Chip doesn’t want to eat it, I’m sure just tossing it into a sewer or something is fine? Just don’t leave a big mess.’

Go-Go was coming down from that short-lived panic attack. It hadn’t gone full blown, just enough for her to go full-throttle rather than her more subdued self. She was a bit embarrassed so decided to gloss over what she had just done rather than address it, and move onto the next topic.

“If anyone asks, zombies did it?”

"Yeah-yeah!" Scout knew the punch buggy game. Who didn't know the punch buggies? She loved that was GoGo's first thought.

Somehow even though GoGo called it out the boys in the car didn't think to do anything for themselves and Scout started to punch them. A slug to the side of Jetsam's arm and then she could be seen hanging over the back of her seat trying to reach Koda while he was dodging and blocking. He'd call out for Jetsam to do something with his daughter. Jetsam of course did nothing but laugh. Nor did he do anything remotely parental like tell her to turn around in her seat or put her seat belt on, but that was to be expected. All fun and games to Jetsam. He even jabbed her butt with his elbow to push her more into the back to help her reach Koda. It made her fall through the middle.

It was all laughter from there.

What started as a joyride, music blaring, each car in their own world, GoGo had their vibe, the twins had theirs. Chip and Dale were blaring Nascar 2000 sountrack because their brains thought in video games and outlaws. Car guys were sometimes just big boys playing out their outlaw fantasies on the track. Then there were Chip, Dale, Scout, and the like of GoGo who took their speed games to the illegal side and were actually outlaws of their own kind. It was how Dale knew GoGo would go against her parents eventually. It was too in her nature. She wasn't just an adrenaline junkie. Even an adrenaline junkie could be a conformist in Chip's book if they never let go of the safety line. She wasn't. Dale always just had him a feeling.

Then there was Jetsam's car, driver controls the music. However he did not exactly bring his playlist from the land of the dead. He had to get Scout to hook up when the radio failed to appease him. She hooked up and was put on what she considered dad music. It was stuff she remembered him listening to when he was alive. She had the lists and would listen to them over and over missing him. She put one on now and it made her face light up when he started to jam to it. It made her feel like she did something right and good which was all important to the good missing her dad dynamic.

This parade of cars started out as a loud joyride of ecclectic music and wired minds. Then the weaving would start. Jetsam dodged the first zombie out of habit used to having to weave if he was causing a rukkus in public in Nola. Then when he realized it was of the dead variety and even moreso a little part of him said even if they were alive he'd be gone by day light and what was anyone gonna do? Kill him? Send him to Hell? BWahahahaHa! No. He decided right then he didn't care either way and suddenly he got a bloodlust in his eyes as he peered through that windshield.

That's when Jetsam's car became a bowling ball and anything walking became targeted bowling pins. It started to be more like Simpson's Road Rage than a regular joyride. He'd hit the first one and the body would swirl up into the air over his car and smack down onto the hood of GoGo's.

"WoahEwww!" The twins yelled out. A second would come flying as they were trying to dodge the tailspin of that one sliding off her car and in their car's path. "Shit. Watch out."

Then the next thing the twins knew they were cracking up at their own tailspin after regaining control. "Sure you don't want me to drive?"

Chip gave him a, "Not in this lifetime" expression. Then Dale started to get his shoulder hoisted out the window ready for some target practice. Every now and again he'd swing and knock over a mailbox just to feel like he was playing baseball again like the old days and started keeping score out loud with the butt of his gun. Chip indeed gave Dale a side eye for that too if only because it was his gun he might damage in doing so, but then said nothing because fuck it. He had so many more. They were having fun.

This kind of driving could go on through the streets of Feral as long as they wanted, a rip revving, zombie bashing good night. The challenge would come more whenever any of them decided it might be time to end it. Whether it was because someone crashed or because the driver of a certain vehicle was about to disappear the moment would come the group would have to slow down after they'd riled up the town's undead population.

It would be getting closer to that time too when Dale had propped up his hip on the window ledge as he was shooting. Chip would start to slip into more of slow motion daze and was having hard time releasing the gas pedal much less lifting it to push the break. When he went into that sort of middle minded haze it was harder for him to communicate what was happening too. He'd appear like he was driving forward full throttle on purpose in adrenaline mode, so Dale didn't realize at first. That was, not until he saw the flag pole coming way too fast. They were swerving off road wrong. It didn't feel on purpose. "CHIP!" But before he knew his body went flying thrown from the VW and landed in someone's lawn.

He laid there in pain looking up at the night sky smiling.

Scout would start screaming for Jetsam to turn and go back. When they got there Koda jumped out fastest and had run up to check on Chip. Scout ran to Dale. "Was it worth letting him drive?"

"So worth it. How far did I fly? That was impressive, right?"

Another corpse was nearby that Jetsam hit earlier. It was pooling bright red blood. "Oh shit. I don't think that one was dead." Koda would say as he walked with Chip's arm over his shoulder over to where the others were.

"I guess that's Zombie Formula One Racing. If you weren't a zombie before racing you'll become one." Jetsam gave no fucks. "That's the formula."

Chip stared at it from over Koda's shoulder still looking dazed with a bruise on his head attempting to speak. It came out slow but he managed it. "I should eat it."

He was used to having to get rid of the evidence when they had accidental murders in the family anymore so to speak.

Scout looked around unsure. "I don't know. Maybe you don't have to? I don't think we can get in trouble here can we?"

All the kids looked at each other like they were confused for the first time in their lives. They knew family rules and how to go about things, handle business to keep the family safe, but they also understood Feral was a little more lax and secure from the rest of the world. They also didn't live here so they weren't used to thinking so freely as if they didn't have to cover their own trails.

If GoGo had turned around and came up at all she'd hear the group conspiring to cover up a rando murder and speak of cannibalism as if it was nothing. Maybe she kept going with her car on her own, who knew? Or maybe she'd be right there after everything finally listening as if nothing could shock her anymore, just a part of the whole wild bunch?

Scout looked down at Dale still on the ground. "I don't know. Ask Dad." Dale answered never being the cannibalism expert and was slightly jealous still that Savvy picked Chip when he left Flotsam. Their dad Jetsam was standing right there and yet Savvy didn't seem to be taking over here in leadership, so when Scout heard 'ask dad' her mind went to Thomas. It also felt right to go to him when something felt wrong and to ask for help.

Scout texted Thomas. This would come in around the time they were going to the inn.

Scout: Dad! SOS. Dead body. Dale and I don't have our bone grinders. We can make some. Should Chip still have to eat it in Feral? Can we just leave it? Or no? ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Jetsam was groaning. "You guys worry too much."

#GoGoxScout #GoGoxDale #GoGoxChip #GoGoxJetsam #GoGoxKoda #ThomasxScout

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just-your-average-author · 21 hours ago

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TIT RECAP/THOUGHTS

SPOILERS OBV

Okay so firstly the open PSA that Dan wrote about "no photos or videos if you do, I will sue your ass to the ground" and "no flash photography do you want Phil to fall off the stage...again?!?!?" killed me. it was so cute

preshow playlist, stunning, beautiful all around bops.

the sudden cut off of the music and lights to signal the show started, genuinely shocked and I was SAT let me tell you.

THEY CAME OUT AND THEY WERE REAL?!? NOT A SIMULATION?? listen I still can't get over that, I can't believe they were real people who look and sound exactly like they do on my tv at home!! I was so focused on them and soaking every moment in, I couldn't handle it

have I mentioned how attractive they are?!?!?

okay also literally Phil straight up STOPPED THE SHOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO SNEEZE AND DAN JUST STARED AND WAS LIKE PHIL WTF and I loved every second I was like yes this is straight up what they do in videos, let's have our little squirrel moment babes.

plus it made it feel even more silly and improv, overall I know obv they scripted a lot but it was sooo interactive and they ad libbed so much and I adored it

the dollhouse recap i swear wtf. first off, it was such a creative and fun idea and the different sets, and dressed up dolls that the clothes matched!! also okay I'm so sorry I had no idea the random sex positions would be a theme of the show so I was gobsmacked, but the 69ing during pinof??? "so we did what 2 closeted twinks did upon meeting each other for the first time.... put sharpie's cat whiskers on!!!" shut up for the love.

I genuinely loved the role model or no-el model segment. my show was in NC so they first option for Dan as the Mr. Lawyer was he bans ___ and someone said south carolina and they both just were rendered speechless and were like damn oh dear but laughing too.

The boxing match was so hot dear heavens, Dan's expression when Phil came out in the fake- *cough* I mean very real abs. He was acting for his LIFE.

the confessions were so good, just wish it lasted a little longer. the yapping was good and also idk if this was standardized but the whole thing where Phil said "I have a cute but also sociopathic thing going on and I think it's working for me 😌" like shut up you're so adorable

omg the quick change where they kept their mics on and narrated so many innuendos I was dying omg so silly and so funny I loved it. I was really impressed with how fast they changed, but also talked the whole time.

I loved every single solitary part of this show and I loved how they joked about how they were sorry we all went to school with whiskers then got out in the trash (cause yeah basically) and how they literally did raise us and should be blamed for us being feral not our actual legal guardians.

okay so. this show 9/10. here's where the last 1 point went.

please don't kill me, but I wasn't a fan of the song. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the whole show was so raw and perfect and then the song was just really synthetic and overly autotuned where I personally didn't even hear their voices. like I couldn't tell who was singing which part. the ukulele part was cute, and I really hoped that would've been all of it, I guess the internet is here and interactive introverts and everything's fine just was so good you couldn't raise the bar again, but that was just my personal opinion, I know a lot of people loved the song and it was catchy and cute, I'm just not personally a fan of kpop/synthesized music so I was a little disappointed in the song but the dancing slapped so hard.

Dan flawlessly executing every move and strut and making eye contact with us while Phil very intentionally was focused on not tripping or walking off the stage and looking at Dan a few times to check if he was doing it right MY HEART.

cuties, gay, both of them, love them

overall I spent last night frantically calculating if I could afford to spontaneously go see the Nashville show as well and spend another 10 hours in the car today but regretfully thought against it.

#pineapple chats #dan and phil #phan #dip and pip #dan and phil games #tit preshow #tit tour spoilers #tit spoilers #titspoilers #tit tour #terrible influenence tour spoilers #terrible influence spoilers #terrible influence dnp #dan and phil terrible influence #terrible influence tour

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writing-hat · 2 days ago

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shattering

/!\ Spoilers for Dragons Rising S2P2!

(very original title) hiii i'm still not dead <3 sorry i'm not active but y'know. life.

here's a jay fic!! about him experiencing shatterspin for the very first time but this is actually more me trying to make the wolf masks kinda gory and made out of flesh it's. it's an experiment. as well as like. physical effects

i'm just having fun and trying out some things (ig it's not really a fic then but idk adfkjsegd)

/!\ TW : Blood, Gore, Wounds, Death (tell me if I forgot something)

Also not beta read and I don't read that well behind myself yaddi yadda y'know the drill (especially since this is more of a bunch of scraps assembled together and not a real fic akfjzsgv (I might cross post it on AO3 at some point we'll see))

This is around 6.8k words so it's half a short? anyway enjoy

Jay narrowed his eyes at the mask he held.

It seemed to be looking back at him. And to be frank, he wasn’t a fan of how it looked back.

A shiver crawled down his spine as he passed his fingers on the front. It was meant to be a mask, but the fact that there was hair there, even if short, was somewhat disturbing to realize. He didn’t know how to feel about the idea that these could be made of real fur. Or worse, that they were somewhat organic, and used to be alive.

He checked the eyes; they seemed colorless, and dull, when inactivated. Glassy.

Dead.

That last realization brought relief. Yeah, it was dead.

Whatever it was.

He knew he was supposed to put that shit on at some point, but… it didn’t seem like a great idea, in hindsight. At least that’s what his guts were telling him.

His mind was on a whole other setting. He trusted Ras, after all. Why shouldn’t he? He had saved him, from the insanity that the Administration had been.

Thank goodness this is over. He was grateful to the man, and had taken the time to hear his interests, and plans. Things Jay wasn’t bothered by, too big to be of a concern to him. But since they were important to his savior, well, who was he to refuse helping him?

He passed a hand on the fur again, before turning it around to see the inside. He winced.

It had been… somewhat ‘polished’, but one could not look away from the flesh that had probably been ripped apart from some unfortunate creature, the whole mask made of stitches between different kinds of skin. But he didn’t dare to touch it to confirm his fears. Had it been the same specie, every time? He did wonder if asking himself that wasn’t the most unimportant question of all.

Living beings had to die, for these masks to be made.

Jay hated how his brain was sure of it.

That, and there was some… sort of taint, at the bottom of it. Where the mouth was supposed to be.

It wasn’t on all the masks, but enough of them had it to pique Jay’s curiosity.

He hadn’t talked about it to Lord Ras yet, of course. He doubted others had noticed what these visages were made of. He wasn’t even sure how he had noticed the details in the first place.

Perhaps due to his weird anxious nature about everything that’s been happening since starting his life in the Administration. His only life, actually, since he couldn’t remember shit from before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket. Its sudden presence making itself known made him frown.

This piece of metal was all that was left to him. He wasn’t even sure how the ones that had found him in the Land of Madness hadn’t taken that away from him, just like all his previous belongings.

He placed the mask back in its place, giving it a final glare, before walking away.

He looked at himself, unsure of what to think of his clothes.

They were comfy, that was for sure. Much better then the suit he’d been forced to wear for years in this damned Administration. And looking much better. He did enjoy the patterns that had been added to go along his powers. Symbols of wolf could be seen as well, on his chest, making sure people would know which clan he belonged to- in case the mask wouldn’t be enough.

But the fur covering his neck, and the gloves… he didn’t like as much. They hid away scars, important parts of himself.

Then again, he still had the ones on his face, definitely due to his own powers when it came to the lightning paths, and probably from fights where there were cuts, and skin that had been torn.

He wasn’t a fan of keeping them away.

But, having his body completely protected when it was clear he was going to fight in the future wasn’t that bad of an idea. Are we going to fight now? Jay doubted it. A lot of the new recruits had probably no idea of what they were getting into. Had probably been enrolled with the idea that they were going to become better fighters, with something close to powers. Lots of people didn’t listen fully when about to drastically change their lives, he had seen it many times in the Administration.

With a heavy sigh, he passed a hand on his face. To be honest, Jay hadn’t thought that long about this idea of joining Lord Ras’s forces as well.

But I owe him. He was there when no one had tried to help. It was all that mattered.

Jay could hear people getting closer. He turned around, seeing Cinder and Ras coming towards him.

The latter still had the same expression as always, severe, and mildly pissed off at people for breathing in front of him. The master of smoke, on the other hand, often had a smug expression there, knowing he was above everyone else, and enjoying it way too much. Not too far from them, he could see Jordana, the sort of witch- he didn’t completely understand what her deal was- who looked away as soon as she saw Jay noticing her.

He didn’t get to focus on that, though, when Ras made sure to be the only thing in his vision.

“I take it you’re ready for today.”

No. Not at all. But this wasn’t what their Lord wanted to hear. “Yes.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to resist the need to fidget with the fur around his collar.

“A first test, to make sure everything will go smoothly for the first battle.” Cinder chuckled at Jay’s expression, before handing him the wolf mask. “You’re lucky to try it before the real deal, Jay.”

He glared at Cinder. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Though, with how the master of smoke was looking at him, mocking, he wouldn’t call any of this luck.

Inhaling sharply, he tried to not let himself show how nervous he felt. He hadn’t expected to wear it so soon. He grabbed the mask that was given to him, nauseous at how he was about to wear unknown skin on his own.

He tried to compare it to leather, but fuck that had nothing in common. He passed trembling fingers on the inside, wanting to confirm his fears.

…Yup. Organic tissues. It was repulsing.

Cinder quirked an eyebrow. “Are you hesitant now?”

There was a threatening growl coming from Ras that echoed with the other’s words. Jay closed his eyes, and shook his head. At least… there weren’t any smell to go with the thing. “No. Not at all.”

“Good.” Ras crossed his arms behind his back, walking towards the arena. “Then get ready. You will be tested along our new soldiers.”

Soldiers. Why did he hate that designation? Wasn’t he supposed to be more, with his elemental power?

He adverted his gaze, focusing it back on the inside of this mask. “Sure.”

It was the first time he entered the shadow dojo. The outside had been eerie, with nothing but the strange orange and red light on their paths, but the inside was a whole other deal.

It was… poorly lighted, somehow, despite the bright lights coming from outside, with candles offering a soft blue glow all around them. He wasn’t sure how the flames managed to stay in that hue, but couldn’t really focus on that when he was trying to avoid all the others that entered with him. Some were chatting, apparently already knowing each other.

Jay didn’t want to know anyone in here. He didn’t see the point.

There were runes everywhere as well. He had no idea of what they meant, but they were glistening too, in that same color as the candles. Plants had grown as well on the wall, somehow.

He sat on the ground, unbothered to stay up like the others. From here, he could see that the only one on the ground like him was someone with a large hat, covering most of his face. His eyes were revealed briefly when he raised his head to watch who had come here for the first trial, allowing Jay to recognize him.

He was the guy he had seen many times speak with Ras. Although speak was a light statement; more so yelling and arguing, with the latter always having the last word, letting the other clearly frustrated.

Nokt. That was his name. He remembered him due to the electrical device placed on the back of his head. Even if he wasn’t sure he had heard his name right earlier, since it seemed like he preferred to keep to himself, as proved when he lowered his hat down again, effectively shielding his expression away from everyone else.

But there was something Jay managed to see before he did.

A spark of amusement, of all things, akin to one about to watch some sort of entertainment unfold.

…Jay didn’t think he was going to like that guy.

His attention shifted back to their leader, when he hit the ground with his hammer. He gave a speech, one Jay half-listened to, about being ready to change their lives for this better form of power, and so on and so on. Monologues are always so tiring.

…Where had he heard boring monologues like these before?

A glimpse of- something, from before, barely there, that escaped him as soon as he tried to look for it, smothered away by another hit of Lord Ras’s hammer against the ground, and someone getting on their feet and walking to the center of the room. Jay thanked his luck helping out for once, since he definitely wouldn’t have heard his name if he had been first.

Watching the guy, he gave way to his urge, and started to play with the fur around his neck to keep himself calm. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like his anxiety was eating him alive, starting with his insides, and pulling on his guts and get him to run away from there as fast as he could.

He gnawed on his lip. He couldn’t make himself worry about nothing. This was just… apprehension, that came with every test he had to take.

Except if he failed this one, he might’ve to be forced back into the Administration. Damn it.

Deciding on ignoring the painful cramps his overreacting unconscious gave him, he focused back on the scene before him, observing the one that had been called.

The guy nodded his head to Lord Ras, and placed the mask on his face. Jay winced, clutching his other hand around the one he was holding; he really didn’t want to know how centuries old flesh would feel on his face. But he supposed he had no choice.

Holding his breath as Ras approached the gong, he tried to think of the power that wearing this mask would mean for him. He knew there was something about a forbidden technique of some sort, the Shatterspin, which he’d been taught the basics, but what about his powers? What would be the effects?

He’d seen Cinder. He’d seen how much quicker and agile he became whenever the mask would fuse with him, and gift him an armor instead of staying as a mask. The red eyes, he wasn’t that fan of, but if it meant finding who he was supposed to be, by feeling his powers better then ever before…

The scar under his left eye throbbed, forcing him to rub it. Not that he didn’t feel his power now, but he didn’t quite think he had a good grasp on it. He managed a few zaps here and there, and sparks to help him when it was completely dark, but other then that, not much else.

There is potential within you, Jay Walker. These had been Lord Ras’s words.

And he couldn’t wait to unleash that potential.

The gong was hit a first time.

Jay jumped out of his skin when the one put on trial shrieked in pain. Someone beside him gasped, letting him know that he definitely wasn’t the only one to be surprised.

He walked back, holding his face in pain and doubling over as the mask’s glowed that bright cyan. Not letting him the time to rest, or even wonder what was happening to him, the gong was hit a second time with a sound that echoed all around them. It was enough to make the room shake, and dust fall from the unexpectedly stable walls of this place. All the blue lights turned red.

The guy screamed again. Jay watched as he tried to remove the mask, pulling on his hair when trying to remove the strap that kept it in place. But it didn’t budge, despite his knuckles turning white from the force he was using for this one thing.

Jay felt sick, witnessing all this. Glancing around, he noticed how disappointed Lord Ras looked, and the way Cinder let his disgust appear.

…Shit.

His attention shifted back to the man in the center when he heard him puke. From here, he couldn’t really see what came out, and couldn’t help his flinch when the sound of retching reached his ears.

Chocking sounds could then be heard. It surely didn’t help when he threw his head back, gasping for air, too far gone to realize that he was making things worse.

Jay couldn’t look away from him. Doing so… doing so would mean he wasn’t cut for this role. It would mean showing weakness, and not being worthy of the chance offered to him.

Doing so would mean abandoning the man to his fate, a far side of his brain whispered. Jay took a deep breath, brushing that thought aside, just like he always had back in the Administration. Kindness and pity weren’t the way to go when one wanted to master Shatterspin, and the power of the Wolf Clan. He remembered Ras’s warnings too well.

Speaking of which, he couldn’t help but check a second time their leader, breath getting stuck in his throat when he did.

Lord Ras was watching them, not the poor guy struggling to survive against the surges of powers that went in his body forcefully. He was quick to understand; he wanted to see who was able to stomach it, and who would be useless in the future to him. And fuck, Jay didn’t think he could do that, but he didn’t have a choice. His body and mind didn’t have a choice.

The man screamed in pure pain and terror one last time, turning Jay’s insides. His hands grabbed at his skin, scratching with abnormal nails that had grown after the gong had been hit a third time. It made deep wounds, forcing crimson to pour out, but it seemed like the man couldn’t care less, just wanting to get rid of that cursed mask.

He heaved, then coughed, falling on his knees with a final yell, yielding to the pressure of energy that must’ve been coursing through his body. Unable to adapt.

And then…

He fell to the ground.

As soon as he did, the red lights came back to the blue hue they had first seen when entering the room.

When others gasped, and some cried, one, Jay heard a snicker. He looked around, trying to see who was sick enough to have that kind of reaction to someone dropping dead in front of them.

He frowned when he found out who.

Now he knew why Nokt had seemed amused at the beginning. He must’ve known this could happen. What a fucking psychopath. He looked away from him, and back at the center of the dojo.

Ras growled, stomping his boot on the ground at the result. He then turned towards Wolf Warriors, a finger pointed at the now dead man. “Get it out of here. We aren’t done yet.”

Shit. Shit. Jay swallowed hard, unable to look away from the blood, as well as the one the corpse left behind when pulled away in a messy trail.

Their leader hit the ground with his hammer, demanding attention from everyone in the room. “The reason he failed, was his resilience against our power. To become powerful, one must learn to bend to the rules that make it all. Only then, can you be one with the Wolf Clan’s powers.” He pointed his weapon towards the recruits, snarling when most of them took a step back in front of it. “Another one of his mistake was doubting me, and being a coward.”

His eyes scanned the room, glaring. “If any of you feel that way as well, you may as well leave. Now.”

That would be a mistake. Yet, some people immediately hurried out, not needing to be told twice. Not a lot- four of them, he counted. Jay closed his eyes, and tried to ignore how two Wolf Warriors followed after them, their claws ready.

What had he gotten himself into? What was going to happen to him?! How many others were going to die? Not that he questioned of the others’ loyalty, but there was no doubt that witnessing that guy’s death must’ve changed their will to join.

Now that Jay knew this was the consequence of failure… fuck. Fuck. His guts were twisting in there, hurting his stomach physically, at this point. His ears were ringing, clouding his mind from everything else. What if all that he had done, all this ‘surviving’ shit, had only lead to his demise?

Jay clenched his fists. He’d never allow that. Cinder had managed to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

This was an opportunity. To find purpose, and a place where he would belong. He couldn’t screw this up. He wasn’t a damn coward. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fight back the power that was about to allow him a new beginning.

This was a cruel world after all. Hadn’t he learned that over and over again? And he couldn’t be at the bottom of it all just because others weren’t able to keep up.

He would not. He would survive through it all, no matter what it meant to wear that mask.

No matter the price.

Ras called his name. He was the second one to be tested.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, and faced the Lord’s eyes with a fierce glare.

Slowly, he got up, ignoring how his stomach still felt like a pit, and how his head was still hurting from the panic he had felt earlier when seeing that man die, his pulse somehow perceivable in his ears.

Still, he got to the center of the room. Only when he did, his eyes found themselves unable to detach from the splatters of blood everywhere. Some were older. Some were on the walls.

They had all witnessed that many times, hadn’t they? And they hadn’t told anyone.

It was… it was…

He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to loose it.

A dark paw handed the mask to him. It allowed Jay to focus his eyes in front of him, and away from the red splatters. Something he regretted doing, when meeting Ras’s eyes.

They were harsh, and unforgiving.

Jay couldn’t mess up.

He was being given a chance. A chance, that could be taken back, and handed to any other elemental master. He wasn’t the only one gifted after all, Cinder was the proof of that. Ras didn’t need him for this grand plan; he had an army, and people ready to follow his every order.

On the other hand, Jay needed Ras. And he owed that new chance at freedom, to him.

Straightening up, he grabbed his mask, and tried to not think back on how it was made of skin. Instead, he tried to concentrate on how there was metal there as well. When tying the strap behind his head, he tried to not remember how the one before him hadn’t been able to remove it when wanting to escape.

No turning back.

Darkness cornered his vision, the latter becoming defined by the constricted sight given to him.

Once settled, he placed both his arms along his body, and nodded to Ras with a dry throat. The latter growled, rearranging his hold on the hammer.

The gong was hit a first time.

The wave of its sound exploded in the room, reaching Jay’s body. It froze him, both his physical shell, and thoughts. Everything had gone silent in his mind, and around him. And he wasn’t sure if this was due to the effect of its power.

Even breathing seemed impossible, in these short seconds. He was completely petrified, finding himself feeling as if he’d been stuck in something so dense and heavy, holding him back. No noise could make it out of his mouth, despite the pain that had started to build up in both his face and chest.

Something had cracked inside of him.

Just as he sensed it, the gong was hit a second time.

It felt like a blow to his chest, making him back away. His bones felt breaking as he did, making him wonder if they could’ve been weakened by the power he had been hoping to obtain.

His ears unblocked. It caused him to be suddenly dizzy, and made his head heavy with the lack of oxygen.

Then his breath hitched, as soon as he noticed the paralyzing effect was gone.

Like breaking out of shallow waters and reaching the surface, he gasped, greedily sucking air. His legs wobbled, making him feel like he was about to loose balance, as both his hands reached for his neck to protect the precious air he was barely able to keep in his trachea.

His skin was itchy everywhere. Something was going on inside of him, turning his veins icy cold.

Something was wrong, and hurting. Something was very wrong.

The rush of his blood too was fast, and strong, making him think that his blood vessels were doubling in size, and perhaps stretching his skin as it grew, leading to his articulations becoming harder to move. It left the impression that everything was about to blow inside of him.

For a second, he wondered if he had died, and if he was about to fall on the floor, just like the man before him had, but then realized that the sound of his heartbeat was still there, and as fucking loud as it was quick.

He was alive. He was-

The gong was hit for the third, and last time.

The final wave forced him to puke, which he went along with, trying his best to not suffocate with it like the first guy. A blink, and he noticed that it was blood, coming out from his mouth in worrying amounts.

His insides abruptly felt like shattering, and he yelled, as his whole body seemed burning up, a harsh and painful contrast compared to what he’d been feeling seconds ago.

Jay wasn’t able to keep a shriek from escaping him, when the power he’d felt in him for as long as he could remember reached for his limbs, and exploded. The scent of burning skin made it to his nostrils, and he held his middle, as if trying to stop his insides from escaping him like his powers had. Only when he did, he sensed his lightning breaking apart.

Millions of pieces, made of parts of his powers, going absolutely insane, and making his body spasm.

Getting electrocuted was a familiar feeling. One he despised, but was never able to escape for too long when it came to dealing with his own incompetence and ignorance. Or when he would redirect lighting on their ship, to protect the ones he cared about.

But just like his power, these thoughts were shattered, making him cry, as his head hurt too much for him to keep up with.

So he didn’t.

He let these words and images get torn into pieces, shards feeling like they came to his heart, pulling his whole torso in a constricting sensation that once again made him think like he was about to die, just like that. The boiling sensation kept on increasing, causing his whole body to feel like he was burning alive.

Something clicked, then, and his vision became too blurry to understand. The red lights made it so he didn’t know where he was anymore, the distant image of people he used to know breaking apart again and again, causing his mind to shatter as well.

And once it was all gone, he vomited again, hugging himself tightly as if trying to at least keep his body in one piece. His shoulders slowly felt heavier, and the fur that had been around his sensitive skin suddenly ceased to be.

Though this was the last thing Jay cared about, as he fell to his knees, the collide with the ground making his bones almost rattle. The way his fingers kept twitching made him wonder how they hadn’t broken yet.

His breathing was difficult, with a voice that had turned hoarse at yells and cries of pain he hadn’t even been aware to be letting out.

He was about to die. He didn’t know how the feeling was so familiar, perhaps due to the blood that accumulated in his breathing pipes, akin to water, filling his lungs until there could be no air passing through. His heartbeat was diminishing, yet it stayed as the only thing Jay could hear.

So he caught it. He caught his heart, for it was all that was left to him.

His will to stay alive. His will to have something of his own, that would make him whole.

And it was a heart burning with rage.

This, was what pulled all the pieces back. What once had tried to escape him, was now caught back by the sheer amount of anger he felt at how fate and destiny had treated him.

What does it mean? The question went away as soon as it brushed his mind, the violent waves of power crushing anything that wasn’t meant to be like it away.

Thoughts. Feelings.

They no longer mattered.

All that mattered was power. Stitching back all that had been separated.

His lightning felt growing. Launching itself and balancing his body in positions and forms that meant both a cry for a help and the picture of a violent force forbidding anyone to get close.

Then came the fusion.

The skin that made the inside of the mask slithered in through his pores, pulling and tearing its way through to have full possession of him, and share its cursed strength to the one that had dared to agree with its ways. Jay wanted to wonder if this was what it meant to meddle with dark magic.

But he couldn’t even do that, screaming again with his broken voice at the violent intrusion he had allowed for someone else’s game.

Foolish. Foolish. He always was foolish.

The foreign matter didn’t bother to be careful, before settling in- although not without damaging the inside of his mouth some more. It forced out more blood out, kicking out whatever was left that wouldn’t be useful to this newfound power.

A final deep breath, and Jay felt…

Liberated.

Gone, was the weight that had been caused by his soul and mind shattering and leaving behind too many pieces to carry. His whole body now felt light, lungs freed enough to give him as much space as needed for the air he needed to live.

The power felt lurking in his systems, flowing and giving him feelings he’d never felt before.

It was pure bliss.

After a few minutes, Jay blinked, his vision coming back, although with nothing to muffle it this time. The euphoric sensation slowly escaped him, letting reality settle back in his mind. Feelings of what was around and on him came back, making him tighten his fists.

He felt as though his sweat had drenched all of his clothes, along the blood. His chest kept expanding in grand moves, each breath making his body quiver, as he tried to catch his breath properly, and return oxygen to his brain.

When he did, his head returned to its previous heavy state, with each pulse increasing the pressure at an impossible rate. Yet, this stayed incredibly dull compared to what having worn the mask the first time had felt like.

He opened and closed his mouth, stretching his jaw to check if it hadn’t changed, or if the muscles there hadn’t torn apart. They had certainly felt so. He checked his limbs as well, particularly his hands, by opening and closing them multiple times.

Everything was good, it seemed.

Bringing his hands up, he checked his face, wanting to make sure everything was still there, and if he hadn’t just imagined the mask going inside of his skin.

But he hadn’t. The mask wasn’t here anymore.

He rubbed at his neck, but scratched himself, making him hiss. He looked at his hands.

Claws had grown, there. The gloves hadn’t even torn, having adapted to the new form they had gained. Closing his eyes, he then oversaw how his powers reacted to the newly added strength.

The response was immediate, surge of powers making his body twitch, and forcing him to gasp for air again. Opening back his eyes, he saw these bridges of electricity between his fingers, going all the way to the tip of his fingers, before disappearing, over and over again.

He chuckled, snapping his fingers. It created a small blow, enough to shake his curls. He then got back up, not bothered to look at the people around him, despite the loud whispers. Directing his gaze in front of him, he then aimed for a wall with his fingers, before sending his lightning there.

The stone that made the wall exploded, pieces of wood and rocks flying everywhere in the room, and allowing dust to float freely.

Jay snickered, feeling this happy buzzing inside of him, always here in the aftermath.

Fuck yeah.

He had missed this so much.

…I wonder who thisused to be.

Walking away from the gravestone, he added the wood to the fire he had prepared for the night.

A caravan was in that junkyard, but he didn’t feel like he was allowed to get inside, even if no one was there. No matter how cold it could get in the desert at night, this wasn’t his home, and he was simply there as a guest. He wasn’t even sure why he had traveled all the way here, but by the time he had realized where he had gone to, the sun had been long gone, leaving him with no choice but to set up camp here.

At least this spot was empty. It was a welcoming change compared to the crowded and suffocating places that had been the Administration or staying with the Wolf Clan. Although he had always been on his own in these previous positions, here the loneliness was one much better then what he’d dealt with in these last few years.

Jay hoped that there at least wouldn’t be any wild creatures to attack him. Fighting back without his powers had proven to be more difficult then he had expected. Thankfully, he had kept the gun from his time in the Administration; a great way to defend himself.

He sat on the ground, and looked at the fire crackling in front of his feet, relieving the itch on his face by scratching it as much as he could. No doubt his skin had not only turned red, but with marks left behind as well. Damn it.

…Being without that mask was going to be very hard. It had adapted to his skin- or maybe it had gifted him a second one. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t understand any of this.

All he knew, was that whenever he had been wearing it, even if for a short time, it had been granting him such an incredible thrill that he already knew just couldn’t be compared.

Oh, he had felt like he was on top of the world. As if nothing could’ve ever stopped his powers and him, from getting back at everything that had been unfair to him up to this point.

Now, all he had left were scars. From wearing this cursed mask, and bearing these powers that had never been truly his, but another’s hidden through his own element.

Jay had no idea if he missed the mask, its power, or if this was all caused by how much he missed his lightning.

His eye twitched; he should’ve listened to his urge, in that moment, and killed her. Destroyed her. And now that he hadn’t, the feeling of regret was unbearable.

He wanted to tear at his skin, but he didn’t even have the claws left for that. Only his poorly taken care of nails, dirty and gnawed by his need to relieve his anxiety and surges of powers every time he hadn’t been wearing the mask.

…Jay missed it all, as much as he cursed it all.

Had he not followed Ras, he would have never lost his powers. Had he stayed in the Administration, in this false life of his, he would have never been bothered by flashes and addictions he had never been prepared to face. He would’ve found his own way to his demise, sure, but at least through a path never led by others.

How had any of what I heard so farsounded right? How could I fall for their lies?

Jay frowned, thinking back on what he had listened to again. He didn’t believe them at all. Their fake stories…

Everyone lies. They’re all the same. Great warrior my ass. Jay now didn’t doubt that Ras could’ve lied to him, and it upset him greatly. What for?! To give him hope, and then crush it all in the next moment because of his so called failure? Gah!

He thought back on that woman he had fought. She too, had pretended to know him.

The sweet tone he could remember from her voice made him grit his teeth.

Even if she and her team had been right, why had they never come for him? It had been years. He had found himself all over again, since then.

“Let’s theorize that it was because they had no idea of where I was. Fine.” Jay clenched his fists. “Why didn’t they come get me when I was kicked out?”

His words were barely above a whisper, not even heavy enough to be carried around by the wind.

He stopped moving, forbid himself from flinching, focusing on the sounds of the burning fire so he could shift it as a background noise so his brain wouldn’t have to bother itself with. He then closed his eyes, and just… listened.

Strong wind, making the abandoned metal around him creak softly, and passing through small and tight openings, whistling all around him.

Deep down, he knew he waited for another noise. The snap of a branch, or the crunch of the sand under someone’s shoe that would make his hair bristle in apprehension. The sign that someone would come for him.

So he waited.

Until moments later, silence was still all that answered him.

He cursed, bringing his knees up to hug them, and huddle in a smaller position.

Jay didn’t know what else he had expected. Of course this wouldn’t happen.

He was alone. He’d always be, in the end. And it seemed like… he wasn’t enough. Not enough to make up for the help given to him, nor enough for people that were supposed to care about him to come back and find him. Loneliness was all that awaited him. He understood that.

… And despite feeling like this, he didn’t feel as he thought low he would’ve.

No. Quite the contrary.

Jay was… appeased. After all, that meant he could finally build a life. Even if it wouldn’t be much.

Throughout the years, he had learned that he had to move forward in order to survive. To do as told, and never question what he was ordered to do, or face consequences. Whether it had been the Administration, or Ras’s Wolf Clan.

So now, knowing for sure that no one and nothing was going to hold him back was freeing. Enough to get rid of these incessant thoughts bugging his mind, at least. Yet not quite enough to get rid of that pressure in his stomach.

Because all of this meant that he had nothing. He never had, and he never would. It left him… empty.

At the end of the day, it meant that he was nothing.

He watched the sparks escaping the fire. Like lightning’s, in a sense, but much less volatile, and not as comforting. He followed their trails, until his gaze ended up towards the stars. Had he known their names, a lifetime ago? The paths they traced, and how they never changed?

But it must’ve changed after the Merge. There was no doubt about that. Even something supposed to never be in motion except throughout centuries had completely shifted, no matter how infinite and big it must’ve always felt to him.

Everything had changed.

How was he supposed to find his past self if nothing was the same?

I don’t. That’s how. There was no need to waste time for something so meaningless. At least he hoped.

He sighed, glad to be protected from the chill of the night.

Warmth whenever it was cold was always a better thing. It was a comforting presence he had never admitted to enjoy in front of him. His… his heart kinda regretted that now.

Jay blinked at the dark sky.

…Who-

Something flashed before his eyes, too fast for him to identify what it was. It aimed for him, reaching its target in a millisecond.

Lightning had just struck him.

He shouted, feeling his powers immediately coming back to him, making him fall on his hands and knees.

Fuck. He hated that feeling. The one of his body getting electrocuted by his own life source, because he just couldn’t control it right.

Come on! He hit the ground with his fist, spitting on the grass as he grasped at the insanity of his power. He kept gritting his teeth, until finally, the lightning settled in, and buzzed happily to be back in its rightful place, with its rightful owner.

Jay took a deep breath. Yeah. Missed you too.

Since the start, his lightning had been the only thing there for him. To be reunited with it again brought tears to his eyes, both of joy, and anger.

At having lost them in the first place. At losing them to that damned water ninja.

I love you, Jay. I will always love you.

The memory of the woman’s desperate face flashed back when he shut his eyes to get rid of his tears.

An act. It wasn’t that difficult to pretend emotions after all, was it?

If he ever saw her again… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

She hadn’t hesitated to defeat him. Pretty fucked up for someone who was supposed to care, like she wanted him to believe.

Or maybe she’d been following orders, like I was.

Jay shook his head. Whatever the reason, it clearly wouldn’t justify anything. Nor would it tarnish the way his heart dripped hatred into his blood, making him even angrier then before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket.

Too heavy, this time.

He took it, and looked at the shape.

…It was a missing piece. He could see that now.

Jay didn’t want to be that. The missing piece of someone instead of being his own person. Of a puzzle he had nothing to do with.

What kind of life could he expect if all he was supposed to be was a pawn placed by others, and never able to have his own free will? The piece in a long chain of supposed important people. Full of important tasks, to serve the greater good of some kind of Great Administration, or a Great Cause of some Delusional Clan.

He’d be no one’s missing piece. No one’s lost part.

He was his own soul. No matter how shattered it felt, and how many little pieces of it were left.

Jay threw the heavy piece in the fire, the weight in his heart never tarnishing during the long time he watched it in the flames, as the moon advanced its course. He stayed that way, holding his limbs tightly against him, while taking deep yet suffocating breaths.

Until, it finally started to melt.

The slightest tint of gold, pearling down as it became a liquid again, and advanced on the darker metal it was attached to.

Never again.

#ninjago jay #hat's fics #hat's words #ninjago dr s2p2 #ninjago dragons rising s2p2 spoilers #< I haven't checked the leaks for s3 and i don't want to so idk what they got in store for Jay #but i decided to go with him going solo in this one #idk it's fun #also I kinda started the fic way before s2p2 sooo sorry if it's not lore accurate? oops?#tw gore #tw blood #tw wounds #tw death

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