#things that have been at the forefront of my mind since I woke up this morning

[the-unconquered-queen]

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Not-So Formal Introduction

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: M (talks of sex but no explicit smut here, just a lil awkward situation fluff here)

word count: 1.7k

joel masterlist

It had been one blissful month of seeing him, your carpenter-turned-maybe-boyfriend? Joel Miller. He was a walking dream with his brown waves, gentle eyes, winning smile, and that damn accent that only seemed to work for him. On top of his obvious physical beauty, there was also a beauty from within that drew you in. He was so tender with you, treating you as though you were a prize when all you’d ever been treated like before him was a piece of meat. And while he wasn’t perfect—he liked to snore and had a bad habit of showing up late—he was damn near close to it.

Though things were going beyond well, you still had yet to stay the night at Joel’s place, his 13-year old daughter Sarah at the forefront of both of your minds as you began to get more and more serious. Joel wanted to ease her into it little by little rather than all at once and you couldn’t have agreed more with the approach. Bur last night, the two of you finally took the plunge when Joel invited you over for dinner and a “sleepover” since Sarah was off at her grandparent’s house for the night.

As expected, you practically ran over, Joel’s smile greeting you at the door. He showed you around, made you feel comfortable, and cooked you a surprisingly decent meal before pounding you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.

Which brings you to the present, your limbs tangled in his sheets, his warm body sprawled out beside you. You smiled as you woke up to his snoring, your fingertips desperate to reach out and trace the lines on his forehead as he slept with a scowl he wore for everybody but you and Sarah. You resisted the urge to wake him, deciding it would be more romantic to wake him up with breakfast in bed. Sneaking out of the bedroom in just your underwear and the white, practically see-through tank top you’d worn to sleep, you tiptoed your way downstairs with a smile, determined to impress him with your romantic gesture, until—

“Dad, you forgot to buy eggs again!” Sarah called out into the house before nearly running into you as you rounded the corner to the kitchen, both of you wide-eyed as you wrapped your head around the other’s unexpected presence. “Woah. You’re definitely not my dad.”

“No, I’m…I’m—“ Suddenly, your grasp on the english language disappeared completely, leaving you standing there barely clothed and shocked to the point of stupidity.

“Your dad finally awake?” A man you recognized from pictures as Joel’s younger brother, Tommy, walked in from the garage, his feet squeaking to a halt on the tile floor when he saw you. “Oh��my God. You, uh, must be my brother’s…girlfriend? Or a robber? I’m not sure which one is more unbelievable.”

“Not a robber. And we haven’t…officially—“

“Thought you weren’t gonna be home until this evenin’,” Joel’s groggy rasp surprised you as he stomped his way down the stairs in a pair of sweats, his t-shirt being squeezed on as he walked.

“Uncle Tommy stopped by Grandma’s and I just caught a ride with him,” Sarah filled her father in as you snuck off back to his bedroom, the embarrassment you were filled with making you sick in the stomach.

After a few minutes of inaudible chatter, Joel’s heavy footsteps climbed back up the stairs and found you curled up in bed with a look of mortification and dead on. He chuckled as he shut the door, shrugging his shoulders as he crawled on top of the blanket you were attempting to hide away in forever, his broadness caging you in as he laid on top of you.

“Well,” he chuckled again, his chin resting on your chest. “That didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m sorry, I feel so bad,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted to make you breakfast and impress you and instead I scarred your daughter for life.”

“You didn’t scar her,” he laughed and peeled away your hands so he could see your face. “Sure, it ain’t how we wanted it to go, but it wasn’t too bad.”

“I was in a thong, Joel.” Joel’s eyebrows raised and he tried to sneak a peek beneath the blanket, earning a swat to his hand. “I’m serious! It was embarrassing.”

“I assure you Sarah’s seen worse from back when Tommy used to live with us, and if it’s him you’re worried about, he had nothin’ but good things to say about you,” Joel finished with a cheeky smile, earning an eye roll.

“Oh, I bet,” you chuckled. “And Sarah? Beyond me being half-naked, are you sure she’s okay? I mean she went from knowing nothing about me—“

“Who said she knew nothin’ about you?” Joel asked as he moved to cuddle you from behind, his chin tucking in the nook of your neck.

“You told her about me?” you asked with a growing grin. Joel nodded and moved to place his lips against your pulse. “Like what?”

“Like I met a someone I really like,” he smiled against your skin. “And someone I think would fit in just fine with us.”

“Yeah?” You turned in his arms, facing him. Your finger traced his grin as he nodded before leaning in to peck your lips.

“So baby, you got nothin’ to worry about,” he nuzzled his nose against yours until you were giggling. “But maybe we should get you a robe or somethin’.”

“I could just put on pants,” you suggested and Joel reacted as though it was blasphemy, gasping and leaning back to look at you seriously. “Pants and a turtleneck sounds good I think. Maybe even throw a chastity belt on if I’m feeling saucy.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” You giggled as he rolled you onto your back and pinned you with his weight as he began to tickle and poke at your side until you were breathless from laughter.

When Joel finally let you breathe and climbed off of you, you beat the desire to stay in bed all day and quickly got dressed so that you could formally meet Tommy and Sarah. You gave Joel a nervous smile as he opened his bedroom door and gestured for you to lead the way, an amused look on his face as he watched you slowly creep down the stairs in front of him.

“They don’t bite,” he husked in a whisper as you stood frozen just around the corner to the kitchen and dining room. “Need me to hold your hand?” he taunted playfully with a smug grin, earning an eye roll and chuckle.

“No,” you affectionately swatted his hand away as he held it out for you and rounded the corner with a breath of confidence. Two sets of eyes immediately found yours as you walked into the dining room, your smile growing more and more nervous the longer they remained silent and staring. “Hi,” you waved timidly as you introduced yourself by name, “It’s nice to finally meet you both after hearing about you for so long.”

“All good things, I hope,” Sarah replied, a small but friendly smile appearing on her face. Her eyes followed Joel as he passed behind you and placed a plate of eggs, bacon and toast on the placemat in front of you before seating himself beside you.

“No, I told her all the bad shit and that really sold her,” Joel snarked and Sarah instantly mocked him but he got her back by stealing a piece of bacon from her plate.

“They do this often,” Tommy warned with a smile. “I just try to stay out of it and eat my food before they start pinchin’ at it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t pinch at your food,” Joel leaned over to whisper to you as Sarah and Tommy entered into their own back and forth. “Might pinch at somethin’ else, though.”

You turned to him with a playfully mortified glare and he grinned as he resumed his meal.

“So,” Tommy cleared his throat. “How was last night?”

“Ew,” Sarah gagged while you felt your cheeks heat, your eyes turning to Joel’s to watch as he fought a smile that was no doubt brought on by memories of the all-night romp you shared, eventually settling on a tight lipped glare.

“Tommy, I swear to god,” he loosely warned, the tips of his ears turning red as the embarrassment seemed to finally dawn on him.

“Well, I think I’ll go to the library and try to not throw up,” Sarah chuckled and stood up with her plate, but paused to look at you. “It was really nice meeting you. You clearly make my dad happy, and if he likes you, I like you too.”

You turned to Joel with a soft smile, finding him already watching you from over the lip of his mug, a smile of his own on.

“I’ll drop you off at the library so these two can get it out of their system,” Tommy stood up and announced as Sarah grabbed her backpack from the ground.

“Get what out of their system?” she asked innocently as they made their way out of the house and into the garage. You and Joel snickered as you overheard Tommy stuttering out a response faintly in the distance.

“That went well,” Joel beamed at you, reaching over to pull your chair closer to his. “I guess you’re one of us now.”

“I guess so,” you grinned, pinching his chin as he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. When he pulled away and looked into your eyes, you felt overwhelmed with love for the man in front of you, your lips already forming the letters of those three precious words for the first time before you could even think to stop it. “I love you.”

“Huh?” He almost choked on his sip of coffee, his fist pounding firmly against his chest a couple times as he cleared his throat.

“I love you, Joel. I love you, and it’s okay if you’re not there yet, but I am and I just had to let you hear it—that I’m in love with you.”

Joel’s eyes turned soft and both of his hands reached for you, calling you into his lap. He scooted back enough to give you room to sit before his hands found your face.

“Baby, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now—probably since I laid eyes on you,” he chuckled and so did you, but then he grew earnest, shaking his head as his eyes darted across your features. “I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you,” you whispered the sentiment one more time to really drill it in as you leaned in to kiss him, his hands falling to your waist. “Mm, we should take this upstairs before I get caught half-naked twice today.”

“Good idea.”

[winchesterwild78]

A Twist of Fate

Characters: Dean x Reader, Billy x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too extreme, just some angst, language, and fluff

A/N: Got this idea from a picture I was tagged in by @jackles010378. Sorry it took me so long to write this. Dean and the reader were dating and broke up. Dean sees the reader with her new boyfriend and things unravel. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own, do not take it or copy it. 

Minors DNI 18+

The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as Billy and I strolled down Main Street. The leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, a beautiful contrast to the gray sky. I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed since I'd last seen Dean.

Three years. That's how long we'd been together. Three years of laughter, love, and a shared passion for the supernatural. And then, just like that, he was gone. A letter, a simple explanation that he couldn't be with me anymore. The pain had been unbearable, a wound that had slowly healed, leaving a scar that I would always carry.

That morning I woke up and found the letter on his pillow. It was the day my world broke. Tears fell on the letter as I read his simple words. 

Dear Y/N,

These past three years have been great. We’ve shared so much and done even more together. I know you love me. You’ve said it so many times, and showed me every day. I just can’t lie to you anymore. I don’t feel the same. That’s not fair to you, to make you think we have a future together. One where we get married and have kids. I can’t do the apple pie life. I’m sorry, Y/N. I do hope you find the love you deserve.

Goodbye,

D

It didn’t make sense to me. We had just shared a night of love and passion, tangled in each other’s embrace. Whispering words of love and affection. We talked of the future and he said he’d love to be a dad one day. He was the love of my life, then he was gone. 

Now, here I was, two years later with Billy. He was kind, considerate, and everything a good man should be. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

We met through a mutual friend and had an instant connection. I wouldn’t call it love, but I was grateful for the companionship. I hadn’t even spoken the words to him. Billy was quick to say “I love you”, but I couldn’t say it because I didn’t mean it, nor did I feel it. 

Billy spent all of his free time with me. At times it felt suffocating. Dean and I spent a lot of time together too, but we also had our time apart. I’d bake and he’d work in the garage, it was a perfect balance.

Walking hand in hand through Main Street my mind kept comparing him to Dean. When Dean and I would walk, his arm was around me in a protective way. Billy just held my hand. Dean would lace his fingers in mine, Billy just cupped my hand. 

When Billy kissed me, it was hard and fast. When Dean kissed me it was soft and full of passion. Every step I took my mind kept comparing Billy to Dean. I couldn’t figure out why Dean was in the forefront of my thoughts.

And then I saw him. Leaning against the Impala, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. Dean. My heart pounded in my chest as our eyes met. A flash of something crossed his face - regret? Jealousy? I couldn't be sure.

As we continued walking, I glanced back. He was still watching, his gaze fixed on me. A wave of emotions washed over me. I stumbled as I looked back. I saw him gasp and jump off the car. Billy grabbed my arm trying to steady me. “You okay?” I nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Dean. Billy followed my gaze. Clearing his throat I turned and met his eyes. “Who’s that?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt and something else, anger maybe. I looked at Dean then back at Billy, “he’s my ex.” 

Billy wasn’t happy. I could feel the tension between us. As we walked into the quiet cafe he shot me a look that sent a chill through me. The cashier offered a soft smile. “How can I help you two today?” She said with a sweet voice. Billy looked at her and said “We will both have a coffee with 2 creams and 1 sugar.” She nodded as she started to put in the order. I spoke up, “Um, excuse me. I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” Billy shot me a look and grabbed my hand, “No, you’ll have what I ordered you. You’re my girlfriend and you’ll have what I order.” 

The cashier stood shocked. My mouth was on the floor. He’d never acted like this before. I touched his bicep softly, “Billy, I am your girlfriend, but I can order what I want.” Billy huffed and mumbled something. The cashier told Billy the total and she went about making the order. 

When we had our order Billy directed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sat across from him and looked at him, shocked by his behavior. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about, Billy? Since when do you order for me and grab me?” Billy just stared at me, anger flashing in his eyes. It honestly scared me. 

“I didn’t like how you kept staring at pretty boy out there. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I was in love with him. I never stopped loving him, but how could I tell him that? 

I swallowed hard. Touching Billy’s hand I started to speak, “Billy, I was in love with him when I was with him. He broke my heart and I’m with you now. That’s all that matters.” 

Billy pulled his hand away from me. “So you can love him but not me? You know what, screw this. Why don’t you go back to him and be his little whore again.” I gasped, “Billy! What the hell. Please calm down. I don’t want to be with him, I’m with you.”

Before I could say anything else, Billy stood up and told me to have a nice life and left. I sat at the table in shock. What the hell just happened? How did one little thing set him off like that? 

I sat at the table thinking about the past few years, how my love for Dean slipped away, and how Billy reacted to me seeing Dean. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear the bell above the door. 

The sound of a deep husky voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Hello, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and they met the piercing green eyes of my favorite hunter. My breath caught in my throat, “D…Dean, what are you doing here?” “Sammy and I were in town on a hunt, I heard you moved here. I’m so glad I ran into you. Can I sit?” 

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. Dean sat across from me. His hands instinctively grabbed mine. My head is screaming at me to pull away, but the rest of my body is holding on for dear life. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was foolish and a complete jackass for leaving and for leaving you the way I did. I was scared. I had finally found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, have children with, and I got scared. Scared you would be taken away from me. Scared because I don’t deserve the love you had for me. I’ve never deserved love or to be loved. I’m broken, Y/N. 

As I sat across from him, hearing him say how he didn’t deserve love my heart broke for him. “Dean, you deserve so much.You, Dean Winchester, deserve all the love in the world. You were four years old when you saved your brother from the fire, you raised him. Dean, you had to be mom and dad to Sam. Dean Winchester, the man who willingly went to hell to save his baby brother, the man who was willing to die for so many people. Dean Winchester, the man who took on the Mark of Cain to help save the world. You deserve all the love this world has to offer. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I NEVER stopped loving you, Dean, and I know I never will.”

Dean stood and walked over to me. He reached out his hand and took my hand in his, pulling me up and flush to his body. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand cupped my face, “You are even more beautiful now than you were two years ago. I was a fool to let you go, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making that up to you. That is if you’ll have me again.” 

I leaned into his hand that cupped my face. My heart hammered in my chest. His touch ignited that fire, that love I had buried deep inside me. Without another word I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft and Dean hesitated for a moment. Then something changed. His hands went into my hair and pulled me in. The kiss became more passionate and full of need. 

The hurt from the past two years was fading with each kiss. When we finally parted, I looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes are full of love and desire. “Dean, take me home.” I said as I leaned into his embrace.

Dean took my hand and led me out of the coffee shop and to the Impala. He opened the car door and I climbed in. When he got in the driver’s seat, he looked over, smiled and took my hand. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stepped on the gas and we headed back home. Home, where we both belonged, together and in each other’s arms. 

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[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 15 Vernon — cockwarming // morning sex

➥ idol boyfriend!Vernon × reader

summary: It’s not every morning Vernon gets to sleep in so when he wakes up after dreaming about his girlfriend, he decides to wake her up and put his dream to reality.

wc: 1.5k

warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): fingering, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls use protection!!), morning sex, dirty talk, use of pet names (babe, baby, etc), mention of wet dreams, Vernon is hella pussywhipped in this, mention of some shower sex afterwards, and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: for once, I'm not writing Vernon as the best friend or roommate. Full on boyfriend mode activated. I hope you enjoy this piece of Kinkuary and please look forward to the next part! Thank you for reading as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon

Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan

Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @hoeforcheol

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED AND BLOCKED.

Join the taglist!

════════════════════════════════

“Stop moving,” Vernon hissed, his hand on your waist tightening as you shifted.

“I can’t help it!” You whined in response. “It just feels so good.”

It was rare for Vernon to have a day off and even more rare for him to get to sleep in so when woke up from a pretty realistic dream, involving you, he knew he wasn't going to get to sleep in after all.

He'd rolled over to find you fast asleep and sighed. He knew he shouldn't disturb you. It wasn't fair to you that you were still asleep while he was awake but nevertheless, he pulled you into him, smiling into your hair when you murmured sleepily.

It started innocent enough, well… as innocent as he could be with his dream in the forefront of his mind. Light touches, his fingers caressing your back as you slowly woke up, soft kisses to your forehead and cheek. The goal was to wake you up, but gently.

Fleeting touches turned into his hands wandering, sneaking down to pull your thigh onto his hip, his free hand tangling in your hair as his lips moved across your cheek to find your lips.

A few moments later, he was whispering in your ear all the dirty things he'd dreamt about while his hands got rid of your pajama bottoms and underwear.

You weren't a stranger to morning sex with your boyfriend. It had just been a while since you'd had the chance to wake up together with his busy schedule lately.

Once your bottoms were gone and nothing to stop him. A soft sigh escaped you as his fingers trailed down to tease your entrance, finding your clit with his thumb and starting to rub slow circles.

Everything he did was relaxed, almost lazy but there was a reason for it. He liked the build up. He preferred to see you squirm and turn into a mess as he built up the tension in your body as slow as possible. He knew that when the time for quick movements came, he'd had the stamina to see it through.

You whined as you felt his lips kiss down your body over your shirt, his free hand pushing the material up to expose your chest to him. Wordlessly, his tongue swirled around one of your nipples before drawing the bud into his mouth.

You let out a content hum, hand moving to the back of his neck as he continued to tease both your chest and your now soaked center.

Your legs spread further as you felt one of his fingers push into you slowly. "Vernon," you breathed as he added a second finger, curling them into you and making your back arch.

"Does it feel good?" he asked softly, Watchung your face as he continued to glide his fingers effortlessly against your walls, taking in the sight of your parted lips and pert nipples.

"You like it when I touch you like this?"

You nodded vigorously, licking your lips before gasping out a yes.

"You like it when I wake you up to fuck you?" he asked, enjoying the rapid rise and fall of your chest as his fingers pumped in and out of your wet cunt, the lewd sounds filling the room.

"Yes," you whimpered. "God, please just fuck me already."

Vernon smirked as he pulled his fingers out of you, pressing a couple kisses to your neck and cheek before drawing level with your ear as he freed himself from his sweats, giving his cock a few languid strokes before lining himself up with your entrance.

"My name's Vernon but if you wanna call me God, I guess that's fine," he said in an amused tone, not giving you a chance to respond as he sank his hard cock into your warm cunt but made no effort to move, simply basking in the feeling of you.

You loved the way his cock stretched and filled you every time. It was such a pleasant feeling and it was never painful with him as he always made sure you were well prepared to take him.

Of course, it wasn't long until you wanted more and started shifting, trying to get some much needed friction.

It wasn't like you hated cockwarming. On the contrary, you enjoyed the feeling of having Vernon inside you. But you also really liked it when he fucked you.

"Babe, I'm trying to sleep." 'Liar.'

You pulled your head back to look up at him, scoffing when he pretended to be sleeping. "You woke me up for this," you whined. "You're the one who was all handsy and needy and wanted to, what was it?" you said, thinking back to the dirty thoughts he shared.

"Sink yourself into my tight little hole? Isn't that what you said?"

Vernon groaned, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you recalled the words his desperate and horny brain had thought up.

"You weren't supposed to remember that!" he mumbled. "Well, too bad," you retorted. "Now are you gonna fuck me like the good girl I am or am I gonna have to do all the work?"

Vernon clicked his tongue in feigned annoyance, rolling you onto your back as he settled between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. "I hate how right you are sometimes," he murmured, slowly starting to move his hips.

"And I hate not being able to sleep in on my day off, but here we are," you fired back, noticing the way your boyfriend smirked as he set a slow but steady pace, focusing on getting the right angle.

He knew he could get you off much faster if he angled his thrusts just right. He didn't need speed, knowing you preferred it slow, deep. "We'll, I suppose I should make quick work of this so you can get back to sleep," he teased, his hips moving slightly faster.

You scoffed, moving to brush his hair out of his eyes.

"Honey, I don't think you know what the word fast means."

You suddenly regretted your words as you felt each hard thrust your boyfriend gave you. He made sure to keep time between them, pulling out slowly only to slam back into you. The force had you crying out with each stroke as your orgasm built up slowly.

It was like he was trying to tease you but also couldn't hold back from wanting to feel something himself. "You're so mean," you whimpered when he stopped, keeping himself buried balls deep.

Another moan sounded from you as he slowly rolled his hips, moving them in a circle and dragging against the deepest parts of your walls. "You know that's not true," Vernon replied, kissing your cheek before pressing his lips against yours. "I'm not mean."

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain how he was being mean by teasing you but could only let out a small yelp as he resumed his deep, hard thrusts. "See? I'm not mean," he teased.

You couldn't find it in you to respond, your mind clouded with pleasure and rendering you incapable of speech.

"Aww, poor baby can't talk?" he asked breathlessly. "Does my cock feel that good?" A moan slipped past your lips, the smirk on Vernon's face spreading. "Feels too good, huh? I know. You feel so good, too."

You let out a choked groan, your cunt clenching around your boyfriend's cock. "Are you gonna cum?" he asked. "Cum on my cock like the dirty little slut you are for me?"

That did it. His words paired with the way his hips moved drove you over the edge, toppling down it like the side of a cliff as you came with a moan of Vernon's name. He fucked you through your orgasm, only letting go once you'd come down a little.

His head dropped into your neck as his hips still, his release coating your walls as he groaned into your skin. Neither of you wanted to move yet you knew you needed to. Your skin was sticky with sweat, your inner thighs and his hips covered in your slick, and his cum slowly spilling out of your used hole.

"Fuck," Vernon cursed, finally breaking the silence as he lifted his head. "You good, babe?" He asked breathlessly, merely chuckling when you nodded. "Yeah. 'M good," you muttered sleepily.

"Hey, no falling asleep," he said, lightly tapping your cheek. "We need to shower. We're gross," he added, pulling out of you and getting up. You groaned tiredly, rolling onto your side. "Speak for yourself," you mumbled. "You literally have my cum rolling down your thighs and ass, babe. You're just as gross as me right now."

You hissed as he turned on the overhead light and pulled back the tangled sheets. "Shower," he ordered. "Now."

You glanced up at him. "How do you have this much energy after that?" you asked, in awe of his ability to bounce back so quickly.

Vernon rolled his eyes before grabbing your ankle and tugging gently. "If you get into the shower with me, we can continue where we left off and get clean at the same time," he reminded you.

You sat up, throwing yourself out of bed.

"You had me at shower sex."

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Mistaken Shirt

Okie dokie! So, this was a request from @nickamaro , a short cute piece with Nick Amaro/male reader.

Requests are open if anyone would like to request something, check out my Master list to see what fandoms I write for, and check out of my prompt list if you would like to see something off of there :)

Warnings: None, just a slight sexual undertone at the start and a very brief discussion of a case but there is no detail.

Masterlist

Prompt List

You awoke to kisses trailing up and down your neck, a hand lightly squeezing your hip. You arched your back into his chest humming a whine as the kisses lingered longer, a hint teeth just before they moved to the next patch of skin. You covered the hand on your hip linking your fingers as you tugged on his hand bringing it to your lips to start placing kisses along the palm and up to the tips of his fingers. You heard and felt the rumble in Nick’s chest as he hummed happily at your actions before that hum turned into a groan when you nipped at his fingertips.

“Best start to my morning,” Nick’s sleep heavy voice whispered into your ear before he nipped at it. You rolled over to face him, trailing your own kisses up his neck and along his jawline hands slipping under the shirt he wore scratching at his stomach in a mimicry of what you did last night.

“Oh? I thought how I woke you up for your birthday was the best?” you asked raising an eyebrow as you peppered kisses along his face making him laugh softly, the feel of his stubble against yours brought more memories of last night to the forefront of your mind.

“While I admit that was fantastic, you weren’t in my arms,” Nick pointed out. “And I much prefer waking up with my man in my arms.”

“Softie,” you teased removing your hands from under his shirt to instead wrap around his waist copying his hold on you.

“I try,” Nick smiled softly down at you. But that smile slowly turned cheeky as the hold he had on you tightened.

“Nick, what are yo-” you yelped when Nick pulled you tighter against him before rolling onto his back then continuing to roll until you were beneath him, your legs had fallen open during his little manoeuvre allowing him to wiggle down a little in-between them until he could easily rest his head on your chest.

“Now this is much better,” Nick sighed. You rolled your eyes but brought one hand up to run your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp every few pass throughs, the other hand wrapped around his upper back. “Much.”

“All you had to do was ask, not perform some weird wrestling move,” you muttered. “Child.”

“Maybe but that would have been boring,” Nick said further confirming your statement as he nuzzled his face against your chest. You hadn’t been bothered to put a shirt on, since Nick is a bit like a furnace as well as a cuddle bug.

You softly started to hum as you continued to play with his hair, lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. The light from the morning sun filtered in through the small gap in the blinds, painting you and Nick in a small glow. You stared at Nick, unable to look away from how he looked in the light. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be able to hold this beautiful man in your arms, he had caught your eye the moment you joined the squad but you didn’t think that your small crush on sight would grow and build to what it was now. The two of you had decided to keep your relationship hidden from the rest of the squad for now, you would tell them eventually but not before the two of you had a chance to just enjoy your relationship.

“Tesoro, you keep that up and I will fall back to sleep,” Nick murmured placing a kiss on the skin right above your heart. You melted a little at his action and his words, not to mention the slight drowsiness in his voice as he propped his chin on your chest to look at you.

“And that would be a bad thing because?” you asked. “I’m rather enjoying this, my handsome man.”

“That is true, but I don’t wanna just sleep away a day off with you,” Nick complained. “I’d rather be doing something.”

“Okay, well, there’s a few new movies out at the moment, there’s a new exhibit at the art gallery, we could go for a walk in the park,” you started listing things you could do. “We could have brunch first, and then make a decision from there?”

Nick wiggled his way back up so his face was level with yours, he lent his forehead against yours as he contemplated the ideas. You cradled his hips between your legs as your ran your hands up and down his sides, puckering your lips at him. He chuckled leaning closer to kiss your lips, caressing them with his, it was slow and sensual as everything with him tended to be.

“Or maybe, we could just stay in and work on some cardio,” Nick countered between kisses, as he slowly started to grind down on you, his kisses becoming heated as you moaned into his mouth.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” you asked arching up into him your fingers finding their way back under his shirt to scratch lightly down his back.

“I can never get enough of you,” Nick moaned into your ear. You felt heat start to build in your veins but before either of you could do anything else both your phones started ringing. “Oh fuck off.” The two of you groaned in disappointment as you pulled away from each other to answer them. After two very quick conversations, the two of you fell back on the bed besides each other.

“Just once,” you groused as you forced yourself up. “Come on, Finn said it was an emergency and I know Liv told you the same.”

“I know, she did,” Nick agreed. “But I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, my poor man,” you chuckled flicking him gently on the nose before you got up and started picking up clothes to chuck on without really checking them. Nick finally got up to get dressed, chasing you out of his apartment as you both got in your own cars to get to the squad.

--

The other members of the squad all shared a look when the two of you entered, Finn barely containing his grin and amusement forcing Amanda to nudge him and furiously hiss for him to control it. Liv rolled her eyes at her teams antics but even she couldn’t contain the small smile at the sight of the two of you.

You and Nick both missed what was going on behind you, mostly because Nick could barely force his eyes to leave you. Neither of you had noticed but in your haste to get dressed you had managed to pick up Nick’s shirt instead of yours. You had a smaller build than Nick giving the shirt an oversized look to it, not to mention the sleeves hung over your hands a little. Nick thought you looked both adorable and hot, the fire burning in his eyes told you that what you had started that morning would be finished as soon as you could. You were also busy hoping that no-one would notice that it was Nick’s, that they would think you were just trying out a different style.

“So, what is the emergency?” You asked turning around, and breathing a sigh of relief when you didn’t see anything in the faces of your friends that indicated they were aware of anything.

“You guys remember a case a year back that went cold, the perp would climb in through a window and wait for the victim in their closet before attacking them?” Liv started. “We’ve had two new victims come forward, their attacks happened a week apart, latest was last night.”

“It’s been a year do we think the perp moved away and came back?” you asked.

“We’ve checked for other crimes that match in ViCAP, but nothing,” Liv answered. “He could have been in lock up for something else.”

“What do we think is the chance he stopped?” Amanda asked.

“Unlikely,” Finn answered. “We’ve got some canvassing to do and we want to go over the victims statements and compare them to the ones from last year, see if anything has changed.”

“Hence the emergency,” you muttered. Another set of footsteps sounded behind you all as Rafael joined the team looking none to happy, he had yet to look at any of you but Liv and Finn, one hand holding his phone and the other a coffee.

“Let me guess, you need an update?” Liv asked. “DA works faster than 1PP.”

“Yes guessed it,” Rafael nodded.

“Hate to break it to you but so far we have nothing,” Finn told him. Rafael sighed tapping on his phone before he finally looked at the rest of the detectives. His eyes passed over you before they swung back, his brows narrowing down in confusion as he looked up and down.

“We only just started, we’ll have an update for you at the end of the day,” Liv assured him.

“Counsellor, there a problem?” Nick asked as he noticed Rafael had yet to look away from you. He felt a curl of protectiveness in his chest, he took a subtle step in-front of you.

“Couldn’t find your own shirt, Detective?” Rafael asked, a little smirk on his face. “That looks a little big on you.”

“Trying something new with my style,” you answered, nudging Nick out of the way.

“Oh, does that include borrowing Nick’s clothes?” he countered, he turned to the others. “How many times has he come in with something of Nick’s on?”

You felt the stares of the team on you and Nick as the two of you shared a look before Nick sighed rubbing the back of his neck. You heard Finn try and struggle to hide his snort of amusement at Rafael’s question.

“I think we lost count,” Finn laughed unable to hold it in anymore.

“And we hadn’t brought their attention to us knowing either,” Amanda muttered amusement in her tone.

“Oops,” Rafael shrugged not sounding at all bothered by his actions. “I assumed everyone was aware?”

 “Hey! We were subtle,” you complained crossing you arms.

“You really weren’t,” Liv tried to sound apologetic as she broke it you and Nick that everyone knew. “The two of you would look at each other all soft and gooey eyed.”

“Gooey eyed Liv?” Nick finally pipped up raising an eyebrow at Liv’s choice of words. “And why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wasn’t our place,” she answered smiling at the two of you. “But now that it is out in the open you’ll need to fill out some paperwork.”

You hung your head unable to believe that they knew the entire time, and that it took Rafael asking a relatively innocent question to finally break the silence. You felt an arm curl around your waist tugging you into Nick’s side, he placed a quick kiss on your temple before he let you go, you smiled softly up at Nick, bumping his hip with yours in response. Amanda and Liv wanted to coo a little at the cuteness of the action but restrained themselves.

“We were going to mention it eventually,” Nick promised.

“Just keep the lovey dovey stuff to a minimum here and we’re all good,” Finn laughed picking up a folder to hand to Nick. “You’re going to speak with the latest victim with Rollins.”

The two of you shared one last look before Nick followed Rollins out, your eyes followed him until you couldn’t see him anymore. Finn snorted again as he gently hit you on the head with another folder, you rolled your eyes at the man as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Such a child,” you muttered.

“Such a lovesick fool,” Finn countered causing you and the other two still in the room to rolled your eyes, but a chuckle left you all the same. You were happy knowing that the team knew and supported your relationship with Nick. You figured that Liv would do everything she could to prevent 1PP from trying to separate the two of you.

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar Chapter 2

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: little bit of canon typical violence

A/N: This story was originally meant to be a one shot. But then I decided, "You know what? I'm not really happy with this ending. I'll just write one more little chapter to wrap things up." 🙄 Well guess what? If you've been following my work, you know that things always turn out longer than expected. So my 'little' wrap up chapter ended up being kind of long and had to be brought to a stopping point. So here's chapter 2 for you, and you can expect a third chapter as well! That will definitely be the last chapter though (she says with way less confidence than she would like).

Thanks to everyone who has liked, commented on, or reblogged the first chapter! I'm completely blown away by how many notes it's gotten. If you missed the first chapter, read it here!

Summary: Y/N comes back from a walk one day only to realize she can't remember where she was or what she was doing. The new case she and the boys were working must be abandoned in order to recover her memory.

Masterlist

Two months had passed since the shapeshifter hunt, and despite Sam’s encouragement, I still hadn’t said anything to Dean. He was making it extremely difficult for me to ignore my feelings for the older brother the way I always used to. Between his constant pointed looks and making up excuses to leave us alone together, I was about ready to snap.

My dreams about Dean were becoming more frequent too. With thoughts of him almost always on the forefront of my mind, he regularly featured in my dreams. I still had dreams like the one the shapeshifter had taunted me with, but these dreams had branched out into more sweet versions of Dean that left me longing for him even more.

I woke up from one such dream – one where Dean and I were in our very own house, snuggled up together on the couch, a movie playing in the background as we talked – in the back of the Impala. I looked around and saw that we were still on the interstate. We were on our way to Nebraska to check out a new case Sam had found. Four teenagers had shown up dead, all apparently drowned, but their bodies nowhere near water.

“How much further is it?” I asked.

“About 20 miles,” Dean answered.

I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Sam met my eyes in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow in question. I just shook my head. He glanced at Dean and back at me, smiling at the small frown on my face this gesture caused. He was getting annoyingly good at figuring out when I had been dreaming about his brother.

By the time we got to a motel, I was irritated and in need of some time away from both brothers. I told them I was going to walk to the diner we saw about 10 blocks away and bring home food for everybody. It would give me time to clear my head. I really needed to find time to talk to Sam about stopping all the teasing and trying to be supportive. Even though it wasn’t his intention, it was only making things worse.

~~~~~

“There you are!” Dean’s relieved voice greeted me as soon as I walked in the door.

“Seriously, Y/N, what took you so long?” Sam chimed in. “We were getting worried. I think Dean was about ready to start a search party.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, not sure why they were so worked up. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

“It shouldn’t have taken you an hour and a half,” Dean argued. “Where’s the food?” He added almost as an afterthought.

“What food?”

“The whole reason you left was to get food,” Sam told me. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I answered. Then I thought about it. What had I been doing? I was certain I hadn’t been gone for very long, but then, I realized that all I could remember was the walk back to the motel. “Just walking I guess? I don’t actually remember.”

“How can you not remember?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know!” I yelled, frustrated and confused.

“Ok, well what do you remember?” Sam asked.

“I remember… waking up in the Impala on the drive here. I guess I kind of remember getting to the motel. Other than that… I’ve got nothing.”

“Come here,” Dean said, gesturing for me to walk over to him. 

“Why?” I wondered.

“Just come here.”

I walked over to him and he immediately began feeling around my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for a lump or some other injury,” he said, continuing his search.

“I think I’d know if I hit my head,” I told him, backing out of his reach.

“Apparently you’ve lost your memory. How are you supposed to know what happened?”

“If I’d been hit on the head hard enough for it to affect my memory, don’t you think I’d have a horrible headache at the very least?” I reasoned.

“Point taken. But clearly something happened. We need to figure out what.”

“Let’s just all head towards the diner,” Sam suggested. “We still need to eat, and maybe something on the way will jog Y/N’s memory.”

Nobody had any better ideas and he was right, we did still need to eat. So we went outside and started walking towards the diner. We’d made it six blocks when Sam stopped us. This particular part of town was the area where commercial buildings started being replaced by residential. There were multiple small businesses scattered throughout the neighborhood. Some buildings were obviously both people’s place of work and their home. 

“Do you think you might have gone in there?” He asked, pointing at the music store across the street. Through the window I could see guitars spaced out on the wall, a row of pianos under them. I loved the piano. I grew up taking lessons and badly missed being able to play. It was an easy, surefire way for me to calm down and clear my head, a fact both brothers were aware of.

“You did seem stressed when you left,” Dean agreed. “I’d actually be surprised if you didn’t go in. And that would explain why you were gone for so long.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t explain my memory loss. Think about it. An hour and a half, just gone. What are the odds of me forgetting such a specific chunk of time? Someone had to have done this to me. We need to find out who. And why.”

“I agree. Which is why I think we should go in,” Dean said. “If we’re going to find answers, we need to retrace your steps. We have nothing else to go off of.”

We crossed the street and Sam led the way inside. A little bell above the door announced our arrival. I scanned the room, looking for anything familiar but coming up empty. I walked over to the line of pianos, lightly running my hand along the tops of each one I passed. I stopped at the fourth one in line. A blur of memories raced through my head, but nothing that would help solve my current memory loss problem. 

This piano was very similar to the one I grew up playing. I remembered the hours spent on it, favorite songs learned and played enough times to become annoying to my family. The very same songs forgotten about when they became too easy and a new favorite came along. I placed my hands on the keys and played a few chords.

“Anything?” Dean asked. I just shook my head.

“Oh! You’re back!” Exclaimed a balding man who appeared out of the back room. He was probably in his early 50s and had a very friendly, cheerful demeanor. “You decided to buy this lovely instrument after all?”

“Uh, no. Unfortunately I have nowhere to keep a piano. No, I was just… passing by again and couldn’t resist,” I told him.

“Well, if circumstances ever change, I’d love to help you out!” He said.

I thanked him and placed my hands back on the keys, playing the opening notes to an old favorite song.

“Have you had a lot of business today?” I heard Sam ask.

“No, it’s been pretty slow today. But then, Mondays usually are,” the man answered easily. 

“I figured it must be a slow day when you recognized Y/N so quickly,” Sam said, subtly fishing for information.

“Well she was the only one in the store at the time, but even if there had been 20 other people around, she plays so beautifully I could hardly have missed her.”

The conversation ended there. Or at least, I think it did. I lost myself in the song I was playing, and all other noise faded away. Once finished, I turned around to face the three men. The owner of the store was looking at me with the appreciation of a fellow musician. Sam looked impressed as he always did when he heard me play. Dean… I couldn’t quite read the look on his face. The closest word I could come up with to describe it is awe. But I knew that wasn’t right.

The store owner glanced at his watch and regretfully informed us it was closing time. He thanked us for coming in and I thanked him for letting me play. The three of us exited the store and started walking in the direction of the diner again. 

We stopped in a couple more stores we passed that I might have gone into in an effort to destress. A small little used bookstore that was absolutely packed from wall to wall with books and an antique store, the kind that always reminded me of my history loving father and the countless stores he took me to growing up. Neither of these places sparked any memories either though, and as far as we could tell, I hadn’t stopped inside earlier.

“Well we have some explanation for where you were at least,” Sam said when we’d been seated at the diner.

“Yeah, but we still have no idea what happened to me. How are we supposed to get my memory back when we don’t even know where to start?” 

“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out. We always do,” Sam assured me. This wasn’t much of a comfort to me at the moment, and Dean seemed to realize that.

“We’re going to figure it out, Y/N. I promise. I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re our priority right now. Everything else gets dropped until we figure this out. You’re our new case. Have we ever not solved a case?” He asked.

I smiled, feeling more confident with my situation. He was right. There was nothing we couldn’t solve when we worked together. 

“What’s our next step, then?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Dean admitted. 

“Our next step is going to the motel and getting some sleep,” Sam answered. “It’s getting late and we have no leads. Our best bet is to sleep on it and get a fresh start tomorrow. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and your memories will be back in the morning.”

I didn’t really want to wait. I wanted to solve this now. But I knew Sam was right. We had nowhere to start, and being low on sleep wouldn’t help anybody, so I grudgingly agreed to this plan of action.

~~~~~

When I woke up the next morning, I kept my eyes closed and just laid there for a minute, working up the energy to actually get up. I heard the deep, even breathing of a sleeping person coming from the direction of the beds and the occasional shuffling of paper or clacking of a keyboard from the other side of the room. 

I rolled over so I wasn’t facing the back of the couch and was greeted by a rare sight when I opened my eyes. The unmistakable sounds of research I’d heard were coming not from Sam as I’d assumed, but Dean, up before his brother, the notorious early riser.

“What time is it?” I asked as I sat up. He looked up at me.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted. “It’s… almost seven.”

“And Sam’s still sleeping?” I asked around a yawn. Dean still picked up on the disbelief in my voice.

“I know, right? Lazy ass. Of all days to sleep in.”

I chuckled at his annoyed teasing and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. When I stepped back into the room, dressed and teeth brushed, I saw Sam up and rifling through his duffle.

“Hey,” he said. “I don’t suppose you remember anything?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I sighed.

“Ok. Well I guess we should go get some breakfast and discuss next steps.”

“No need,” Dean interjected. “I already came up with our next step while you two were catching up on your beauty sleep.”

“You did?” I asked, surprised.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” He answered. Before he could continue, Sam interrupted. 

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. Couple hours.” He took a drink from a to go cup of coffee that I hadn’t even noticed he had.

Sam glanced at me, the look on his face one that he reserved for times he wanted to say ‘You two are so meant to be together’ but couldn’t say it out loud because Dean was in the room. He had said it to me on more than one occasion when Dean wasn’t around, which is how I know what the look translated to. 

“Anyway,” Dean continued. He picked up a phone book that was laying open beside him. “I found this psychic in town that should be able to help us. I figured we’d stop by her place after breakfast.”

“A psychic? I don’t know, Dean.” The thought made me nervous. Most of the people who advertised themselves as psychics were phonies. And even if this one wasn’t – which I didn’t know how Dean could be sure of – what if she wasn’t able to help? What if she saw something I didn’t want her to see? I’m a pretty private person, and the thought of someone digging around in my head is incredibly unappealing.

“Hear me out,” he insisted. “I’ve done my research, ok? She’s the real deal.”

“How can you be sure?” Sam asked.

“Because. I’ve done my research,” Dean repeated. “Look,” he said, spinning the laptop to face us. It was open to a website for The Amazing Annabelle. “There are dozens of reviews on here, and every one of them says she was able to help. And look at this.”

He slowly scrolled down to the bottom of the page, showing off the dozens of symbols and sigils scattered throughout. A lot of them I recognized as protection from various supernatural beings. There were a lot that I didn’t recognize too. They clearly marked her as knowing about the world of supernatural creatures though. Unless she had just pulled together symbols she thought looked cool in order to give herself an air of authenticity.

“Alright, fine. But a few good reviews and a bunch of symbols used by hunters doesn’t exactly prove that she’s psychic,” Sam argued. I had to agree. I didn’t want to hurt Dean’s feelings since he’d clearly put some time into this and I knew he was just trying to help, but psychics made me nervous. There was no way I would agree to go unless we knew for sure she was legit.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing. Which is why I talked to Bobby,” Dean responded. So this was the reason he was so confident. Bobby was highly respected among the hunter community. If he gave his approval on this Amazing Annabelle, then we really couldn’t doubt her abilities. “He said he’s not super familiar with her, but he has heard of her. She’s good at what she does and someone who can be trusted.”

“Ok,” I agreed. “Breakfast and then a visit to the psychic. I suppose the worst that can happen is she isn’t able to help.”

~~~~~

The first thing I noticed about Annabelle was how… normal she was. With the exception of Missouri, all the other psychics I’d ever seen were dressed in over the top outfits, their places decked out with all sorts of nonsense that was supposedly necessary for them to do their job.

If I’d seen this girl on the street, I would never have guessed what her occupation was. She was about our age and short, standing a full head below my 5’ 6” frame. And she was very pretty. I noticed both Sam and Dean’s immediate appreciation of her beauty. She was wearing white leggings and a purple shirt, her night black hair was in a messy ponytail that suited her very well, and her golden brown skin was flawless.

“What can I do for you?” She asked when she opened the door. Dean cleared his throat before answering.

“I’m Dean. This is Sam and Y/N. We were hoping you could help us with something.”

“I gathered that much,” she smiled. She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Come in.”

We stepped inside and she led us to a room that had an armchair and a comfortable looking couch as well as a round table with four chairs. She sat in the armchair so the three of us settled ourselves on the couch, Sam and Dean on either end and me between them.

“So. What can I help you with?” She asked again. 

“Do you have any experience with trying to recover memories?” I asked.

“Some, yes,” she said. “It really depends on how the memories were lost. Some are easy to find. Some take work, but can still be found with patience. Some, like in the instance of an injury to the brain, can’t be recovered.”

“We don’t actually know what happened. That’s part of what I need to remember. Our assumption is that magic was involved though,” I informed her.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she assured me. “If you’ll come with me?” She stood and moved to the table, gesturing for me to sit across from her. The boys came and stood close by to watch.

“I’ll need some information from you in order to know where to look,” she said. “Give me as much detail as you can about these memories. How long ago was it? How much time are you missing? Is it relating to any specific object or person? Anything you can give me will help.”

“It was yesterday,” Sam explained. “She has an hour and a half chunk of time just missing and we have no clue why.”

“What were you doing when you lost your memory and how did you realize you’d lost it?” 

“I was just walking from our motel to a diner to get some food. I only realized what happened because I couldn’t actually remember why I left the room and I definitely didn’t think I was gone that long.”

“Ok,” she said, taking my hands in hers. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and instructed me to do the same. “I need you to concentrate as hard as you can on the moments from that walk that you can remember.” 

Then she chanted a couple lines of Latin and suddenly I was back on the sidewalk outside the music store. I was walking in the direction of the diner once again when I hit a block. It was like an invisible barrier I couldn’t pass. I tried to go around it and when that didn’t work, turned around to go the other way. No matter what I tried, I was stuck where I was.

And then I was back at the table with Annabelle, Sam and Dean hovering over my shoulders.

“Well?” Dean asked.

“I still don’t remember anything,” I told Annabelle.

“I know. Your memories were definitely blocked using magic. It’s a stronger magic than I was expecting. It’s up to you to decide how important it is that you get them back. If you want to continue, I’m going to have to put you into a trance in order to access them.”

“Is that dangerous?” Dean asked.

“It can be. But only if you don’t have a good anchor,” she answered.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to have to send Y/N deep into her subconscious to find answers. Doing this requires an anchor, a tether to reality, someone to bring her back. Otherwise she could be stuck in her own subconscious with no way out."

“That’s not a problem. Both of them would be willing to do that,” I told her.

“I’m sure they would, but your anchor can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone with a very strong emotional connection. Normally I recommend close family members or significant others for this sort of process. I’m assuming they are neither?” 

I hesitated. The answer, of course, was no. But I didn’t see how I couldn’t have a strong enough connection with them for this to work. Living the way we did – being with each other 24/7, trusting each other with our lives – created a very strong bond. Not to mention the way I felt about Dean. But maybe if it was one sided it wouldn’t work. And I wasn’t about to say that Dean was the safer bet because I felt our connection was stronger.

“Dean can do it,” Sam announced.

Dean and I both whipped our heads to look at him. I was sure the shock, irritation, and minor panic I could see on Dean’s face was mirrored on my own. I knew we were panicking for entirely different reasons though. For Dean it was worry that he wouldn’t be a strong enough connection for me. He didn’t want to risk me not coming back. For me it was worry that Sam was going to rat me out. And boy would we have words if he did.

“What?” He snapped at the death glares we were both now fixing on him. “You know it’s true. You’ve known Dean longer than you’ve known me. You two get along so well and know each other so well that if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’d known each other your entire lives. I promise your emotional connection is more than strong enough to handle this. And I swear if either one of you tries to deny how close you are right now, I will not hesitate to punch you.”

I looked at Dean at the same moment he looked at me. There was uncertainty in his eyes, but his jaw and shoulders were set in determination.

“I can leave you alone to discuss it if you’d like,” Annabelle offered.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Dean said. “It’s up to you of course – you’re the one taking the risk – but I’ll do my best to bring you back if you’re willing to trust me to do it. Otherwise we can try to find another way.”

“Of course I trust you. That’s not even a question,” I told him.

He watched me for a minute, weighing the sincerity of my words.

“Ok,” he said. “What do you need us to do?”

Annabelle stood up and moved to a shelf full of drawers on the edge of the room, opening different ones and pulling things out as she explained.

“As I already said, I’ll be putting Y/N into a deep trance. The magic is blocking your memories on a conscious level. Sending you into your subconscious will allow you to access them, but only while you’re in the trance. Once you’re awake, you’ll forget everything again.”

“Then how does this help us?” Sam asked.

Annabelle set everything she’d grabbed down on the table and then opened a cabinet underneath, grabbing a clear glass ball and setting it in the middle of the table.

“It helps, because you and I will be able to see everything she’s seeing while she’s in the trance.”

“What about me?” Dean asked.

“Since you’re the anchor, you’ll be inside her head too. You’ll be able to see and hear everything. Sam and I will only be able to see, so you’ll need to pay particular attention to things you hear as you’ll be the only one who knows those details.”

She began combining her ingredients, crushing leaves and mixing together powders and liquids.

“While she’s out, I need the two of you to be absolutely silent,” she told Sam and Dean. “You’ll both be fully aware of the noises happening around you. It could be tricky getting to the hidden memories, and distractions won’t help. Once we’ve found the information you’re looking for, we’ll need your anchor. At that point I need Dean – and only Dean – to start talking to her.”

She now had a liquidy brown paste in front of her. She dipped her finger into it and began drawing symbols on my forehead.

“It doesn’t matter what you say. Your voice, as well as your physical connection, will lead her back into consciousness.”

“Our physical connection?” I asked.

“Yes. You’ll need to be holding hands during this,” she said. Done with my forehead, she quickly drew an intricate swirling knot on the palm of each of my hands. She drew the same design on both of Dean’s palms and then worked on his forehead as well. I assumed the design was identical to mine. “Dean, if you’ll sit across from her, we can get started.”

She sat in one of the two empty chairs and gestured for Sam to sit in the last one. 

“Alright. I need you to tell me everything you can remember from the time just before your memories disappeared. Once you’re under, you won’t be able to talk to me. The more details I have, the easier I can guide you to the missing time.”

“I already told you what I remember.”

“No. I need more. Tell me exactly what the last thing you remember is. Is it walking out the door? Did you get a ways before you forgot? What were you thinking? What were you feeling? What could you see, hear, smell? Give me everything you can remember.”

“Well… I don’t remember leaving the room. I kind of remember getting to the motel, but that’s a little hazy. I guess the clearest memory I have is waking up in the Impala about 15 minutes before we got to town.”

“Ok. Let’s start with that then. What details can you give me about that?” She prompted.

“I don’t know. Not much. We were in the car. On the interstate. Dean had Metallica playing. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say,” I told her. If this is what it took to get my memories back then I was screwed. Coming up with little details from hazy memories wasn’t exactly easy.

“That’s ok. Don’t worry. How about how you were feeling? Can you remember that?”

I’d just had a dream about Dean. So a big mix of emotions. Happy, sad, longing, irritation. Irritation. Yeah. I definitely remembered being annoyed when we got to the motel.

“I was annoyed. When we got to the motel. I remember being annoyed. I imagine it’s why I left to get the food. And Dean said I seemed stressed.”

“Great!” Annabelle praised. “What else? Do you know why you were annoyed?”

“Um…” How to answer that truthfully but without giving anything away. I looked between Sam and Dean and remembered how Sam had picked up on what I’d dreamt about and silently teased me about it. “Just an argument with Sam.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“What argument?” Dean interjected. “You guys didn’t even talk to each other.” 

“No, but just because we’re not as close as you two are doesn’t mean we can’t communicate without having to say anything,” Sam said.

Dean looked shocked. No doubt he was wondering how often we’d had these silent conversations. Little did he know, they were always about him.

“Ok. Anything else you can give me?” Annabelle asked.

“I know I went into a music store and stopped to play one of the pianos. I don’t actually remember doing it though. Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got enough to work with. Remember, I need the two of you to stay quiet,” she told Sam and Dean. They both confirmed that they would. “Ok. Dean and Y/N, take each other’s hands and close your eyes.” 

She waited for us to follow her instruction before continuing. A stream of Latin, different from the first time, fell from her lips and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into my subconscious. It felt a little like drifting off to sleep, so gradual that you’re somehow both aware and unaware of it at the same time.

~~~~~

Dean’s POV

As Annabelle’s chanting trailed off, a picture of my surroundings slowly began to take shape. I recognized it immediately. It was the inside of the Impala – from Y/N’s perspective. She was in the passenger side backseat, her usual place.

“Can you hear me Y/N?” Annabelle asked in a calm, soothing tone. “If you can hear me, I want you to get out of the car.”

I watched as my hand – No. Not mine. Y/N’s – reached for the handle and then she swung her legs out and stood up.

“Great. I’ll do my best to guide you to your forgotten memories, but this is mostly on you. If you seem stuck, I’ll help you figure out where to go, but otherwise I’ll stay quiet and let you figure things out for yourself. Now I need you to focus for me. I need you to think about the motel.”

The background around us flashed through a series of images. Different motels we’d stayed at over the years.

“The motel you’re staying at now,” Annabelle clarified. “The one you got to last night.” 

The flashing images slowed and came to rest on one. 

“That’s good, Y/N. Now I need you to focus on your emotions from last night. You got to the motel and were annoyed with Sam because you’d just had an argument.”

Y/N’s mind flashed back to the backseat of the Impala, Metallica’s Fade to Black playing through the speakers. She was looking at Sam in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows raised. I could tell by the view shifting back and forth that she was shaking her head. Sam looked quickly at me and then back to her, smiling. And then, memory over, we were back outside the motel. 

That’s it? That was their argument? No wonder I’d missed it. What did it even mean? I caught myself just before I actually asked these questions out loud, remembering Annabelle’s instruction to stay silent.

“You wanted to take a walk, so you offered to go get food for everyone,” Annabelle continued. I watched this memory version of Y/N walk out the door. “You stopped at a music store along the way. Did you stop anywhere else?”

We all sat in silence as we watched Y/N walk for several blocks, never stopping. She looked around as she walked, frequently turning her head to look at different things. I remembered Annabelle telling me I would be the only one with access to the sounds in her memory and started paying attention. I heard the chirping of birds, the occasional car driving by, a bell ringing inside a store as someone opened the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Y/N walked past a group of teenagers and I listened in to their conversation. They were discussing the loss of their friends. The information I got from them was useless as far as Y/N was concerned, but I memorized their faces so we could question them once we’d helped Y/N and were ready to work the case we actually came here for.

She walked for another block and then stopped outside the music store. She stopped for a moment to look at it, and the world around me disappeared as she relived a different memory. I saw a child’s hands on the keys of a piano. I heard the music being played, a simple melody of Jingle Bells that the child was singing along to. I heard a grown man singing with her. The song ended and she looked up into the smiling face of the man I knew to be her father.

She crossed the street and walked into the store, heading straight for the pianos and trailing her fingers over them as she walked by, much as she had her second time through with me and Sam. She stopped at the same piano she did with us. Having seen the childhood memory, I now understood the draw to this particular instrument. 

I listened as she played a complex set of chords that transitioned into a haunting melody. I was entranced, as I always was when she played. It was clear it was something she deeply enjoyed and missed. I was startled as Annabelle’s voice cut in over the music.

“What did you do next? What happened when you were done playing?” She asked. I suppose this part of the memory would be particularly boring to her and Sam, who couldn’t hear what I could. Not to mention it wasn’t exactly helping us find out what happened. We did need to keep moving, I supposed.

The memory jumped to the last few notes of what had to be a different song entirely. Then Y/N turned around and saw the store owner standing there, listening intently.

“You’re a wonderful pianist,” he told her. 

“Oh, that? I was just messing around,” she mumbled at the compliment. 

I listened closely to their conversation. While he was pretty low down on my suspect list, he was also technically the only person on that list as he was the only person we knew to have interacted with her. Nothing sparked my suspicions though.

He continued to praise her abilities, she continued to brush them aside, and he asked if she had any interest in buying the piano she’d been playing. 

“I would be very happy to sell it to you,” he told her. “It’s not often I get to sell an instrument with the confidence it will be used and well loved.”

She politely turned down his offer and then told him she needed to be going, that her friends were expecting her to be back soon.

She left the store and continued her walk. Although I couldn’t actually feel her emotions, I could tell that playing had calmed her down significantly. There was just something about the way the world looked to her now.

She made it another half a block before she stopped. I could discern no reason for this. She simply stopped walking. After a few minutes it became apparent that something wasn’t right.

“This is where you got stuck the first time we tried finding your memories, isn’t it?” I heard Annabelle ask. “Whatever happened to block your memories, this is where it happened. The magic is still putting up a fight. I need you to push back. It can’t stop you from seeing. It’s all in your head that you can’t go any further. Just keep walking.”

We all waited for a couple minutes as she struggled with pushing past whatever spell was holding her in place. 

“You can do it,” Annabelle encouraged. “You’re stronger than the magic is, I promise. Keep walking.”

Another minute passed and I knew she was winning because noises – which I hadn’t even realized had disappeared – started filtering through. It was like hearing something from underwater. Muffled, hard to make out, but definitely there. Then, all at once I could hear voices clearly and we were moving forward again.

I heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the alley in front of her. She quickly walked to it and then slowed to a stop just outside, listening. There was the unmistakable sound of chanting and underneath it, gurgling. 

“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. She reached into her boot to grab the silver knife she always had with her. “Wish I had my gun right about now.”

She peeked her head around and saw a teenage boy standing over another one. An endless stream of water was spewing out of the lips of the boy on the ground and he was choking on it. The chanting boy was facing her. The second she stepped into the alley she’d be spotted. But the drowning boy didn’t have time for her to find a better plan of attack.

She rushed in and the boy stopped his chanting when he saw her. He started a different chant, just a few words, and then he raised his arm, flinging her into the building beside her. The knife she’d been holding went flying out of her hand. I desperately wanted to run to help her, to make sure she was ok or to kill that boy. I didn’t know which desire was stronger, but I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. This was a memory. It was all in the past and I couldn’t change it now. I just had to watch and learn what I could. That’s how I would help her. Because now we had his face and we could track him down.

Hand still stretched out to hold her in place, he looked back to his original target, now desperately gasping for breath. He continued his chanting, and the poor boy on the ground only lasted a few more moments.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N asked him. “What could he possibly have done to you to deserve that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” the boy snapped at her. “No one does.”

He started marching in her direction.

“You should have left it alone,” he snarled. “If you’d just kept walking, everything would be fine. But now you’ve seen too much. And you have to go too.”

He started up his chanting again, directing it at Y/N this time. I could hear water falling from her mouth and hitting the ground. I could hear the sound of her gurgling and choking. I couldn’t bear it. How had she gotten out of this?

“Thomas!” A sharp female voice called from the other end of the alley.

The chanting stopped as the boy looked in the direction of the voice. Y/N immediately started coughing the water out of her lungs and gasping for breath. She looked at the person who had spoken. She was a woman in her late 40s or early 50s at a guess and she was fuming.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked as she smacked him over the head. “Don’t you think you’ve left enough bodies behind? Do you want to attract the attention of a hunter?”

“She saw me! What was I supposed to do?” He protested.

“You were supposed to have not killed another person to begin with! We talked about this! I’ve covered your messes your whole life, but I can’t hide murdered teenagers. Especially when you’re as sloppy about it as you’ve been and especially when you don’t even tell me about it!”

The boy hung his head in shame. But not guilt. Apparently he’d been raised to do a better job of hiding his crimes. Witches. I hated them.

“Well I have to kill her now. She’s seen too much,” Thomas argued.

“No. We’re already far too at risk of hunters coming to town. You can’t add another person to the body count. Especially so close to your father’s store. Do you want him to find out it's you killing people? About the fact magic is real, and you use it? No. We’ll erase her memory and send her on her way. She won’t be a problem.”

The witch grabbed an already made hex bag out of her purse and placed it in Y/N’s immobilized hand, forcing her fingers to close around it. I knew that she would have been fighting to get free, but since she was completely stuck there were no visible indications of this. I had been in that position more than once and knew the frustration of being unable to move.

The boy’s mother started up her own chanting and the memory we were in started fading to black. It continued with Y/N standing just outside the music store. She seemed confused at first, looking around as if trying to get her bearings. Then she turned and headed back in the direction of the motel, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

“Ok,” Annabelle said. I’d forgotten she was even there. “It’s time to bring her back. Go ahead and talk to her, Dean.”

At the mention of my name, I saw my face flash through her mind. I was sitting beside her on a couch and smiling. I didn’t remember this particular day. It could have been on any given day at any random motel. 

I wasn’t really sure what to say, and just babbling whatever words came into my head seemed silly, but getting her back was more important than my discomfort.

“Y/N,” I said, pausing to think of my next words. The memory in her head changed. Now, rather than seeing from her perspective, I was in an outsider’s point of view. And I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “What the hell is that?” I gasped out. 

With a mix of excitement, shock, and confusion, I watched a guy who looked remarkably like me – although it couldn’t have been because I knew this had never happened before – lift Y/N in the air, spin her around a couple of times, and then set her back on her feet before leaning down to kiss her.

“I thought we were in her memories,” I said.

“You are,” Annabelle answered.

“No we’re not. We can’t be. That never happened.” 

“Then it must be a memory of a dream. Focus, Dean,” Annabelle instructed. “Be her anchor. Bring her back.”

I tried to concentrate on my job, but all I could see was the image of us kissing playing over and over in my head. 

“Can you please think of something else?” I practically begged her.

I was grateful when the memory – or whatever it was – flickered and changed into something else. Only this was no better. We were kissing again, only this time sitting on a very nice couch in a very nice room. It changed again. Sitting in the front seat of the Impala together, just the two of us. Kissing. Another change. I had Y/N pressed up against a wall. We were really kissing in this one.

It changed again and I breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d pulled up a random memory of her in one of her college classes, back before she quit school.

“Ok,” I breathed out and then cleared my throat. “Ok.” If I thought I didn’t know what to say before, I was really stuck now. What was I supposed to say to her after seeing all of that?

“Ok,” I said yet again. “You need to come back now. You have to find your way back. Sam and I are waiting for you.”

“It’s not going to work,” Annabelle said. “She’s trying too hard to keep her memories in control to focus on finding her way out of the trance. Y/N, don’t worry about what memories surface during this. Your only job is to come out of it. Listen to Dean and don’t worry about anything else. And Dean. Don’t worry about finding the right words. Say whatever comes naturally. That’s what she needs.”

Say what comes naturally. This would be a lot easier if I didn’t know Sam was listening to my every word. But Y/N was counting on me. I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

I said her name again. The memory of the classroom flickered to one of me in the driver’s seat of the Impala, singing along to Led Zeppelin. Y/N was in the back, singing with me and Sam was smiling in the passenger seat, refusing to join in.

“If I’m being honest with you, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say right now. But you trusted me to get you out of this and I’ll be damned if I let you down. So I need you to do your part too. Find your way out of this. Come back to us.”

Memories flashed by as she searched for a way back into consciousness. I saw memories of real things, memories I shared. Us in the car, in motel rooms, on hunts. Her patching up a knife wound on my bicep, me holding her close and carrying her after her run in with that shapeshifter. There were more memories of things I didn’t recognize too. More dreams, I suppose. Us out on what could only be interpreted as a date. Us curled up together in bed, talking. Us dancing together in an empty parking lot, a slow song playing from Baby’s speakers. And more dreams of us kissing in various scenarios.

It would have been so easy to get lost in all of these memories, in seeing myself the way she saw me. And in wondering how she could apparently dream about me so much, apparently have feelings for me, without me ever knowing. But I made myself focus on being her anchor.

“Do you know how glad I am that you’re a part of my life? I sometimes wonder how I ever managed without you. And you know you can’t leave me and Sam on our own. We wouldn’t last without you. We’d probably kill each other.”

I watched as the countless swirling memories of us switched to ones of me and Sam. She remembered more than one instance that proved me wrong. She thought about all the times Sam and I had leaned on each other and kept the other going. She was essentially telling me that while she appreciated the sentiment, she knew we’d be fine without her.

“Alright, fine,” I said. “Maybe we’d get by fine on our own. That doesn’t mean either of us want to. You’re too important to us. So come back to us,” I repeated. 

She seemed to be flipping through her memories, as if looking for the right one to bring her back.

“Come back to me.”

I became the focus again, a memory of me standing outside on a bright sunny day and laughing at something she’d said flitting into her mind. But she pushed it away to start looking again.

“Don’t worry about the memories, remember?” I told her. “Just focus on me. Listen to my voice. Try to feel my hands,” I encouraged her. Different memories floated by again, pulled up at random by my words, or maybe the tone of my voice. I didn’t know. They almost all circled around just the two of us though. More dreams of us kissing flashed by.

The shock I felt at these images was lessening and I was beginning to be more comfortable with them. So, following Annabelle’s advice, I let myself respond naturally. I let go of the tight leash I usually kept on my natural inclination to flirt. It wasn’t something I’d ever done with her, not wanting to scare her away. If only I’d known how she really felt.

“You know,” I drawled, wishing I could flash her a smile. “If you wanted to kiss me so badly, you only had to say something. We can definitely do something about that. But only if you come back to me.”

There was a rush of memories flipping by so quickly I couldn’t make anything out in any of them. Then everything went black and I became aware of my own body again. I tentatively opened my eyes and saw Y/N sitting across from me, Sam and Annabelle on either side of us. 

I smiled a little. I wanted to know if she’d found her way out so suddenly out of embarrassment and a desire to escape or excitement and anticipation. 

“Don’t forget, she won’t remember any of what just happened,” Annabelle warned me. 

“I know,” I said. That wasn’t a problem. It was a lot easier to take a shot when you could see clearly. And I could finally see everything.

Chapter 3

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[racergirl-112]

Push Me Over - Chapter 13: No More Running

WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT, foreplay, language MINORS DNI 18+++

The sound of rain woke Dani up in the middle of the night. She and Hugh had fallen asleep in her bed with their clothes on from the night before. She reached over and saw she had a few missed texts from Ryan and her Uncle, betting Ryan had filled him in on the whole ordeal. She turned her phone back over and turned back over to the man lying in the bed beside her. After last night, he had done everything in his power to protect her through her first paparazzi experience. Sure, she knew this would be coming, but looking like she was on a date with him, put all her anxiety and the reason she friend-zoned him to the forefront. 

“Sweetheart, are you ok?” he asked groggily. She shook her head. “Come here.” He pulled her to him, their faces inches apart. 

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” she whispered. His hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face. 

“There’s no need to be sorry, Dani. I know it can be hectic and anxiety-driven, but you learn to deal with it. The first time is always the most crazy.” 

As the butterflies started to creep back into her body at Hugh’s mere presence, her phone went off. She chose to ignore the first notification, but then there was another and then another. She turned over and grabbed her phone and saw the news headlines. Hugh Jackman and co-star Danielle James more than just co-stars? 

She felt like she was going to throw up and nearly dropped her phone if it hadn’t been for Hugh, breaking her out of her trance. 

“What is it, Dani?” he asked. He looked at her face and the color that was no longer there. He read the headline as well as the story that followed. “Sweetheart, you’re ok.” He started to comfort her, but she moved away and got off the bed.  

“This is what I was afraid of,” her voice breaking as the tears fell from her eyes. “If you hadn’t just announced you got divorced, maybe it would be different.” 

“People move on after divorces. The public didn’t know anything about Deb and I being separated for almost a year.”

“They literally wrote if I was the reason for your divorce,” Dani’s voice began to get louder. The pain and hurt clearly there. Hugh got off the bed and walked over to where she stood. 

“Dani, I know you want to be just friends and I respect your wishes, but I want to be with you. I know the media write shitty things, but they’re rumors. You and I both know the truth as well as the real people involved.” 

“But…,” she started. 

“No, let me finish. I have watched you from afar for too long. I am in love with you. There is no doubt in my mind. I want you beside me every night and I want to be able to protect you no matter what. Please, please, give me that chance. Fuck what other people say.” Hugh’s hand graced her face as he leaned down to kiss her. 

Dani wanted to protest, sticking to her morals, but at this point what did it matter. She loved Hugh and she was tired of pretending she didn’t. She missed the feeling of his kiss as she got on her tiptoes, deepening the kiss. His arms wrapped around her as he walked them to the foot of the bed. Her hands found the buttons of his shirt and slowly began to unbutton each one. 

“Dani,” he started. “We don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” she whispered. She reached the final button as she pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She left kisses down his toned chest, stopping right where his happy trail began. 

“You’re playing with fire again,” he groaned. Her eyes met his with a look he had been waiting to see again since the first time they had sex. 

“I told you, Jackman, I love setting fires.” He pulled her up to him, running his hands down her body. She turned her back to him, moving her hair out of the way. “Unzip me,” she said, her eyes focused on him. 

His hands found the zipper of her dress, slowly unzipping it as she turned back to face him. His hands trailed the straps and pushed them off her shoulders, until the dress fell to the floor, leaving her in just a thong. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he started, backing them up to the bed. Dani sat up on her elbows as Hugh left searing kisses down her neck and to each one of her hard nipples. He carefully worked each one sucking each bud. 

“Hugh,” she moaned. His eyes gave her a devilish look before he moved down her body, kissing in between her thighs before slowly pulling her thong down and tossing it to the ground. His mouth devoured her core. With each swipe of his tongue against her pussy, was putting Dani into another level of ecstasy. He inserted one of his long fingers to add to the feeling as lightning shot through her body as her orgasm crashed over her.

“Feel good princess?” he asked between licks. 

“Yes, god,” she moaned. “I need you to fuck me, Hugh.” 

“Eager?” he smirked. 

“Yes, need you now,” she choked out. He left one last kiss on her pussy before standing and removing his pants, kicking them to the floor. He crawled back over her, their faces inches apart. 

“I’ve needed you sweetheart,” he started, the feeling of his tip pressing against her entrance. 

“You got me,” she whispered, cupping his face. He grabbed ahold of himself, thrusting inside of her, his lips on hers. 

“Dani, fuck you feel amazing wrapped around me,” he groaned as his hips began to pick up pace. Her hips meeting his every movement in rhythm together. Dani could feel the familiar build of her orgasm about to crash and quickly as she arched her back off the bed. “That’s it sweetheart, give me another one.” 

Dani wasn’t sure if it had been the time apart or what, but the way Hugh was talking to her, made her even more turned on. She began to pick up her hips needing his dick deeper inside her. The new sensation all but made her want to cry at how fucking good it felt. 

“You’re balls deep,” she moaned. “I like it.” 

“Good, now be a good girl and cum on my cock.” Hugh’s words were enough to send her over the edge as she came undone at his hands, digging her nails into his back. His hips thrusted a few more deep thrusts before Dani felt the hot spurts of his cum deep in her. Hugh soon fell into the crook of her neck. Her hands running through his hair. 

“I missed that,” she said, breaking the silence. He raised his head and softly kissed her lips. 

“I did too, sweetheart.” He slowly pulled out and rolled over to the spot beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Are you going to run away again?” 

“No more running away from you or my feelings for you Hugh. I love you.” His hand cupped her face and kissed her again. 

“I’m glad. I love you Dani.” They fell asleep soon after and Dani knew that she hadn’t felt this safe with anyone in a long time and she wanted it to last. 

Hugh woke up the next morning as his alarm started to go off. He let his eyes adjust to the light as his arms were still wrapped around Dani from the night before. As he turned over to hit snooze, Dani started to move. 

“Don’t leave,” she said softly. Hugh hit the button on his phone and brought her back into his arms.

“You and I both know we have to get up sweetheart,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Plus, I think we have another kissing scene or something soon.” She glanced up at him and smiled. 

“So, you’re mine on and off set?” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve been yours.” 

“And don’t forget it,” she replied, sarcastically. 

“Dani, you and that mouth,” he started. 

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Jackman.” 

“Oh, I can finish sweetheart.” 

They were both late to set. 

[pajarinwrites]

너 였다면

➳ gn!reader x younghoon

➳ wc: 2.8k

➳ TAGS: angst angst angst

➳ WARNINGS: sadness? unrequited love?

➳ AN: decided today, spontaneously that it made. nosense dragging this one out just to publish hao's first, so i switched their order. we're back with more TBZ as if i don't have several groups that are more my ults than them?? don't know what's been going on. also, i am possibly in love with kim younghoon. i'm sorry it's so dramatic and sad? i just wanted to practice a bit of a different style and also a different genre that always smut and fluff.

If it were you, he wonders, how would my days be?

He wakes up to soft morning light. It’s shining onto your face, a spot of drool in the corner of your mouth that makes him giggle. You scrunch your nose when one stray piece of hair falls into your face and tickles you. If he weren’t such a damn coward, he’d reach out, cross the inch of space that’s left separating you, and softly tug it behind your ear. Except he is a coward. And he knows that there is so much more space between the two of you, even if not physical.

But he is content looking at you in silence, watching your eyes move behind your lids as you’re still sunken in dreams. He hopes it’s a happy dream, the way he is experiencing one right now. Distance or not, there is nothing reprehensible about Younghoon loosing himself in dreams about you. He’s not delusional enough to expect anything of you in return. But if it is the only thing that helps him sleep at night to think that you are irrevocably, elatedly his, he won’t deprive himself of that.

He knows his imagination could never come close to the real thing anyway. Waking up next to you, seeing your face peaceful in the morning, he tries to commit these pictures to memory as vividly as possible in fear of never getting another glimpse at this.

He’d found himself wondering this yesterday already. He wondered when you came over at night, slightly tipsy and upset about one of your more terrible friends. He’d encased you in his arms, held you tight until you stopped crying. He wondered while you had dinner together and wondered while you were watching a show on his bed together until you drifted off to sleep.

When he looked at your sleeping face, the prospect of waking up with you in his arms in the forefront of his mind, he wondered, If it were you, how would my days be?

If it were you, he thinks, my crazy days would be alright.

He slams his dorm door closed, fuming at the others refusal to see reason. They’d been fighting for nearly an hour before he’d had enough and stormed out. Younghoon wanted to be patient, but tensions had been rising since Sangyeon’s strict reprimands about acceptable dorm behaviour in the morning. And they were only exacerbated by the spotty dance practice earlier. He needed space to breathe but before he realised what he was doing, he had taken out his phone and started calling you. He was going to hang up, he really was. But then you had already picked up, your sleepy voice carrying through the tinny speaker, “hello?” His silence persevered until he heard the worry in your voice, suddenly wide awake, “Younghoon?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s..” What can he say? It’s okay? I woke you for no reason? Don’t worry, just go back to sleep?

“Are you okay? Should I come over?” 

He feels a sob rising in his throat, swallowing it into a lump instead. There is no need to worry you. But you would always worry where your friends were concerned. That was how you saw him. A dear friend.

“No, I just…” Fuck it, he thinks. Maybe it is the stress, maybe it is the lack of sleep, maybe it is your voice, vulnerable in the middle of the night, that wears down his defences. 

“I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your end of the call remains silent. Younghoon listens into the absence of your voice, with every passing second becoming more sure of the fact that he has given himself away. But you merely sigh. “Alright, should I tell you about my day?”

He smiles, as softly as ever. With you safely tucked away in your own bed, his eyes can betray his love without fear of you witnessing it. So he listened, his expression finally free, until your voice carries him off to sleep.

Are you as lonely as me? He’d ask if he had the courage. Would you know if you saw me break?

He’s there again. Of course he is. He can never stay away from you, much less when you’re hurting. He sits, you between his legs, leaning your head on his shoulder as you sob into his t-shirt. Your eyes are swollen, your face red and snotty, and yet he cannot find a flaw in you. All Younghoon can think about is that he would love to punch the asshole, who’d made you feel like this, square in the face. A tiny, malicious part of him is relieved. Relieved that another first date has ended in disaster. The voice whispers vituperative words, abrasive hopes that the better part of him knows will shatter on the rocks like breaking waves. Yet the whispers persevere. Maybe this time, they will see you. Maybe this time they will look up, and you won’t hide behind yourself quickly enough, and they will realise. They will see your love, and they will love you back. 

But he doesn’t think the voice of desperation reflects his true wishes. He doesn't want you to run to him because you’re lonely and heartbroken. He wants you to run to him because you’ve finally seen him. In one of your happy moments, he wants you to turn around and see him. Not look at him following you. But see him, standing behind you, content with your happiness, ready for you to return if the world ahead gets too much again. He wants you to realise what he feels not out of sorrow. But from a place that makes you shine.

My heart feels like it’ll burst.

You’re grinning like a little kid as you’re holding onto your candy floss. You laughed, pointing at the silly bunny keychain in his own hand.

“I can’t believe this is all they gave you!”

“What do you mean? Mr. Bunny is an excellent price!” He wags it in front of your nose. You slap his hand away without malice, still smiling from ear to ear.

“You landed every throw! You definitely would’ve deserved that big teddy bear.”

He shrugs, thinking that your cheers are a bigger prize than anything that booth had to offer anyway.

“Even so,” he smirks, “will you accept this sad, subpar gift?” He presents the keychain with a flourish and you gasp in affected shock.

“For me? Why I can hardly believe it. How do I deserve such a generous present?” You take it immediately clipping it onto your tote bag with your free hand, declaring, “I shall call him Younghoon!”

He laughs, “Why?”

“Because now, even when you’re busy with practice or away on tour, I can have you by my side.”

There is a second in which Younghoon’s chest feels like it’s been compressed inward, like his lungs were collapsing. Maybe my heart is about to burst, he thinks. Younghoon stands gaping before dropping his gaze and chuckling.

“Uhm, okay…” he murmurs lamely, but you don’t seem to notice. You’re already pulling him along to the next stall, fingers interlinked. Always pressed up against him.

“Isn’t it only natural? You’re the most important person in my life!”

The pain that fills me up.

He would treat you better. He knows that. He has watched a hundred first dates fail. He’s seen you laugh so hard you snorted orange juice out through your nose. He’s seen your face red and patchy from crying to much. He’s seen you writhing in pain, and screaming in joy, and overcome with anger. He has seen you in pretty much any and every version of your existence, in any bearing that life could throw at you. He’s never loved you any less.

But now he’s looking at you, trying to swallow this random man’s face, and he can’t stop the very ugly thoughts for a few seconds.

He is immediately disgusted with himself. Younghoon pushes past his confused friends, grabbing hands trying to stop him. But if he doesn’t get air right now he will combust. Your actions and his thoughts are lead in his brain, seeping down threw his spine and weighing down his body as he sits on the curb helplessly.

Strangers approach him, asking if he’s alright, but he doesn’t hear them. He cannot watch you do this anymore without drowning himself. He needs to tell you.

If I were you, I’d love me.

Of course he cannot stay away, he thinks. Younghoon looks at you, you’re shining in the stupid, cheap disco lighting that his friends DIY-ed in their living room. There’s a smile on your face that isn’t meant for him and even though it’s not the first time you smiles at someone else like that, he wishes it was the last. He wishes every time but it never turns out this way. You turn, your smile lingering as your gaze lands on him. Immediately, you’re dropping the guys hand, bounding over in tipsy joy. You lean against his side, entangling your hands, always pressed up against him.

“Do you wanna get out of here? You look like you’re over the celebrations.”

He nods, unable to suppress the smile. The two of of you end up in his room, under his blanket as you’re watching silly videos that you had saved on your phone.

At some point he looks over and sees you staring at him.

“What’s up? Why aren’t you watching?”

“I’ve seen the videos. I like watching your reactions way more! So next time I know which ones you’ll find especially funny!”

He wishes he could lean in and kiss you. He needs to tell you.

I know you already gave me an answer.

You’re having dinner again, something cheap that both of you can afford. He knows you’ll insist to pay yourself. He knows you know he will sneak away again to pay for both of you.

It happens the same way it always does. But this time, as the two of you leave the restaurant, your hand grabs for his, linking arms together as you stroll out. He blinks down at you in confusion while you’re babbling on about something. Suddenly you turn and look at him, your faces only inches away from each other. You lean in, draping his limp arm over your shoulder, always pressed up against him. You motion for the phone in his hand.

“Snap a photo!”

“Now?”

“Of course now! Come on, you’re taller, the angle will be better!”

Younghoon snorts unattractively but it only makes you giggle. As he holds the phone up, you press even closer, leaning in, one hand thrown up in a peace sign, the other holding his arm in place around your shoulders. He snaps a photo. Another one. And as his finger hovers to snap another he can see you lean in on the screen. Your lips press against his cheek, soft and plush and… smiling. The flash goes off as he drops his arm and turns to you. His mouth is faster than his brain because his lips are moving and his mind is still on the burning feeling that your kiss left on his cheek. He watches your face contract in confusing.

“Did you lose your voice?”

“Sorry?”

“You were stammering around, Younghoon,” you say, worry still on your face, “should I not have—“

“No!” He hears the desperation in his voice and almost flinches, “no, it’s fine. You can do it again. If you want. Whenever you want.” He rambles on. What about, he isn’t sure himself. Is he confessing? Is he refuting? In hindsight, he can’t remember for the life of him. He stumbles through his words, eyes on his boots only to look up and see your beaten expression.

He thinks you know. He knows you know. But he will not, cannot admit this to himself yet. His silly heart had hoped your lingering looks were longing. But when he gazes down at your face now, he knows he has read into your contemplation. Your eyebrows are knit together, eyes watery.

He gulps, no matter that it doesn’t assuage the lump in his throat. On the contrary, it seems to grow bigger, restricting airflow and leaving him gaping like a fish. There are a million words on his lips, racing through his thoughts. You’re smiling but for the first time ever, he can’t read it. Are you sad? Happy? Disappointed? Disgusted with him? Eventually all that he manages to press out is a small don’t. Defeated. Afraid.

“Forget I said anything,” he breathes. There it goes, his great admission, his cinematic love story. Younghoon feels it dissipate in the air. You stand in silence, bodies facing each other, faces averted.

When he finally looks up your expression hasn’t changed. There are trails of tears down your cheeks and he feels his fingers twitch involuntarily. Every part of him wants to reach out. But Younghoon still hasn’t deciphered that look in your eyes. All he knows is that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. So he apologises, his voice still barely above a whisper. When he leaves, you don’t call after him, no rain starts falling. He simply leaves. Without spectacle, without dramatic music. Maybe this had always been the way it was supposed to end.

I can’t sleep comfortably these days.

They’re shouting again. Something or other that has occurred. As if the troubles couldn’t be solved with a civil conversation. As if they didn’t have more pressing issues, like their under-performing comeback and the looming threat of disbandment. His fingers twitch to his phone but he stops himself. Your face flashes in front of his eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, the doubt in your gaze. He still can’t face you. You must hate him. The way he so selfishly inserted himself into your life, pressured your feelings, ran away at the slightest sign of reject. He doesn’t know why you haven’t reached out, but if you need space, he’ll give you space.

But this means he has to curl up on the floor, trying to drown out the voices, trying to calm the waves of his emotions crashing into the sides of his ribcage with every breath, threatening to burst. He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, and when he does, it is filled with visions of loneliness.

I can’t even swallow anything.

They’re filming, and one second he’s laughing but the next Eric has shoved cotton candy in his face. He takes a dutiful bite, for the cameras, but his mouth feels like it’s stuck together, like actual cotton is strung between his teeth, weighing down his tongue, growing down his throat and making it hard to chew, to swallow, to breathe, to think of anything but you laughing with him for the last time.

Do you even know my days are falling to pieces as I look at you?

Of course he would see you again eventually. You all share a friendship group. You’re hugging the man you’d met at the club that night. Something is different. You’re shining. You’re wearing matching couple rings. He feels the entire world shift on it’s axis, like he’s inside a picture and someone tipped the frame. He stumbles, physically stumbles. Sangyeon catches him. Asks what’s wrong. He couldn’t tell him.

Even if it feels like I’m dying,

You’re texting again. He doesn’t want to look at it. The thought of you makes him feel like he’s sinking again. You’re happy. He needs to be happy for you. But he can’t. So he won’t. He agrees to meet. He owes you an explanation. And then, maybe he’ll have the strength to leave.

Even if you say you’ll never run to me,

He’s waiting. He’s been waiting for forty minutes. You’re nowhere to be seen. Both your coffees have grown cold. He looks at his phone. Nothing.

That night he receives a text.

Sorry, something urgent with Joonie came up. I’ll make it up to you.

Even if I know you’ll never look at me,

You’re here to make it up to him. Except he’s telling you about their break-through, their successes, the hope that they’ll prevail after all these years of struggle. You nod and hum. Your phone dings. You look at it for a second and burst out laughing.

“Sorry, it’s just too funny!” You turn your phone to show him a video. You’re looking at your phone screen.

I don’t think I can ever let go of you.

You’re angry. He’s rarely ever seen you angry before. He didn’t even really mean it. Even though now he realises it’s true.

“I don’t know what your problem is? It’s been like this since I got together with him.”

Younghoon nods, looking at this person in front of him that he doesn’t seem to know.

“I know he’s important to you,” he says, unsure of how it relates to anything.

“He’s the most important person in my life.”

He nods. He wants to turn and walk away. But he finds himself routed to the ground. He falls into step beside you. An arm’s length away.

[heartstringsbloom]

(Second part to my Cars au story featuring McQueen and his sister Maisie, who’s my oc. TW for vomiting but nothing graphic, brief use of words “emptiness” and “numb” to describe how a character is feeling at one point, and crying. But things get better. This is a long one, hope you enjoy ^^)

The theater roared, applause and cheers overwhelming the space. Maisie’s golden-brown dress melted as she bowed. Heart in her ears, she was soaring.

It was what she had always dreamed of. Somehow it didn’t feel as shocking as she always thought. When she dreamt from a young age of being on stage, she imagined that it would be the most stifling of moments. But in the middle of the dream—could you imagine?—it was like being home.

“Home,” she whispered under the lights and love. “I’m home, aren’t I?”

Home.

~~~

Wasn’t she?

~~~

“Home.” Monty chewed the inside of his cheek as Harv led him to the hauler. Mack waved from where he leant on the trailer.

“Good thing, huh? Nothing to get in your way this time. This next race will make or break your whole career, kid.”

Good thing. Monty smiled that perfect smile that taught him adoration. Taught him success and how to think about his future instead of looking back.

~~~

Good thing, right?

Dinoco, here we come.

~~~

“Home,” the crowd murmured. “Home.”

It was there at the forefront of her mind, always was. Home was them.

“Home,” Mom said. She didn’t see her mom.

Home was them.

Monty took her hand.

“You’re not home.” Maisie’s throat felt dry as she spoke. The crowd was gone, everything dark. “When are you coming home?”

He was silent beside her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, ashamed at how much she missed him.

Home.

“Monty—“ She couldn’t see through her tears. She pulled her hand from his to run through her hair, shaky. Her curls were almost as unruly as his, though she had done her hair so neatly.

Monty, I need you to come home.

Monty, where are you?

“Come home!” She seethed until dissolving into sobs. “Just come back home!”

He stared down at her on her knees. She couldn’t see his eyes through his racing helmet.

I miss you.

“Monty!” Maisie woke up in a cold sweat.

The dream clung to her beneath the chilled air. Her lungs worked to get anything of a breath back in, and it was only once she registered the scratchy bedsheets and night-filled windows would she sigh and fall into her hands.

That was the third night in a row. Sleep ran from her any chance it could. She couldn’t convince it to stick around as nightmares constantly gave chase.

(“—Supposedly sleeping, according to Mr. McQueen’s hauler.”)

A dry weight sat behind her eyes, weak but persistent. She didn’t think she could cry anymore. It had been the hardest she’d cried since—

Mom’s soothing voice wrapped around her mind, guiding her breathing in a controlled rhythm. In, out. Count in, 1-2-3-4. . .out. Again.

Keep in time, like a song. Good job, dollop.

Maisie opened her eyes to a warm day, face stained with tears.

~~~

He weaved through the party, eyes set on the one still guest. She was lovelier than any midnight dance. Stubborn and testy as she was. “Miss Maisie, you’ve sat in the shadows for quite some time.”

Had she not eventually responded, he would have figured she missed his voice. The music was so loud. Though he had learned some time ago how impressive her hearing was.

“I’ve gotten comfortable,” she said into her drink.

“Why stay? I could make all of your dreams come true.”

She hummed, nodding about the room as if she had just heard about a sunny forecast. “I’m good. Thanks for the offer.”

He frowned. “You can’t be.”

“Oh.” She took a sip. “I see.”

Her drink became her focus once more and he sighed, irritation nipping at his ankles. When she still wouldn’t look at him he made his very sophisticated, very tight leave.

Her loss.

~~~

Maisie blew soft bubbles into her glass, eyes shutting when his footsteps faded. The room played out around her all the while. Heart in her ears, though she tried not to feel so out of sorts.

After-parties were a drag.

~~~

Ugh, after-parties were such a drag.

“You only say that because you’re having to smooze it up with sponsors.” Sally twirled his hair loosely, easing him down so she could speak in his ear. “And fix your face. You look miserable and you’re gonna feel miserable if photos come out showing it.”

“So what,” Lightning muttered stubbornly. “Let them see how much I don’t want to be here.” Adrenaline ran through him still. He wished these events wouldn’t follow so closely after a race, and instead give him some time to breathe and come down from the rush.

“It’s been 10 minutes, stickers.”

“10 minutes too long.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek and like that, melted his disdain. The discomfort crawling under his skin fizzled out.

“You’ve got me.”

“I’ve got you,” he returned contentedly. On the rare occasion Sally could make it out to a race, the parties were much more bearable. She held this calming effect that always soothed him. Being with her was like being with a lake in the quiet of a starlit night.

They were soon joined by Doc, who hugged Lightning and wrapped an arm around Sally. She slipped the glass from Doc for herself. He rolled his eyes, looking not the least bit surprised.

She pursed her lips in curiosity. “This is water.”

“Sure is. Legend tells it’s good for the body.”

She hummed, returning the glass to her lips with a murmur. “Water’s my best friend.”

Doc fixed his gaze to Lightning. “How’re you holding up?”

Lightning rolled his shoulders and hopped a few times in place. “Grinning and bearing it.”

“Grin more,” Sally chirped. He stuck his tongue out at her.

Doc huffed his amusement. “Think I saw Cal and Bobby by the food.”

As he usually did at such news, McQueen lit up.

“Oh, perfect! But—“he faltered, blue eyes already missing his blue sweet—“well, I can’t just leave you, Sal.”

Sally smiled at him, ever endeared. “Go have fun. Doc needs some company anyway, don’t you, Doc?” It wasn’t really a question, and she didn’t really let him respond before she dragged him towards their crew. Sally blew a kiss in her wake.

Lightning caught it with a grin, a chuckle slipping through as he locked it in his heart. He scanned the room for his friends.

He spotted the top of Cal’s fluffy platinum blond over the crowd and made his way towards the growing laughter and familiar sound of Bobby teasing their tallest friend. The dread of earlier mingling melted away immediately.

~~~

It was something-past midnight when Maisie slumped through the door and kicked her shoes off. She still felt the night’s adrenaline and music, not that she wasn’t ready for it to fade. Parties were too touchy-mingly. Maybe if she’d had someone to burden with her displeasure, she would have actually enjoyed herself.

Maisie snickered to herself, under her breath in the starry solitude of the window. She was such a drama queen.

As always, her favorite pajamas were perfect when she was fresh out of the shower with nowhere to be in the morning. Yet she tried to ignore how the day wouldn’t pass before she ached to be back on set. She didn’t even have a major role. But the moment she was in character, she always wanted to give it her all.

It was laughable how closely she held a background role, and then it wasn’t. Every part matters, she had told herself since childhood. Sometimes she let the comparisons bleed into her thoughts, though. Then she would shape up, toss her hair, and tell the doubt off. Because, really: the audacity.

With a comfy sigh she slipped under the scratchy sheets. Her eyes drifted to the popcorn ceiling: beige. Not her eyes, the ceiling. Her eyes were. . .a color she never understood.

Monty always compared her eyes to the woods. They weren’t green and pretty like the trees. Just brown and boring. Like bark. Like something she never understood.

But he always said that tree bark held years and years of value. And it was strong, like her. Did strength mean getting by without her family? Did not family make you stronger?

Maisie turned into the pillow, eyes out the rainy window. Eventually they grew heavy.

The last thing she heard was her brother laughing while mom fussed at him for tracking mud in the house. He was so quick she didn’t stop him.

~~~~

“Okay—okay.” Lightning held up a finger before Doc could get a word in. “In my defense, I didn’t see the rain.”

“You didn’t see the rain?”

“It’s clear, isn’t it?”

Doc pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kid, there’s mud on my floor.”

“I know.” Lightning hit him with his famous McQueen pout. “But I said I was sowwy.”

Sally poked her head over the back of the couch. “He’s got you there, Doc.”

“Sally,” Doc sighed. She giggled and turned back to the tv.

Lightning opened his arms. “Can we hug it out?”

Doc stared at him long and hard. Only when the kid actually started tearing up did Doc roll his eyes.

Lightning chuckled as they embraced. “You know I’m really sorry, Doc. I promise I’ll clean it.”

“Oh you’re gonna clean it.” Doc actually cracked a smile. “Come on. It can wait til after dinner.” He called over his shoulder, “your girlfriend’s starving.”

“What? Nooo,” Sally objected around a mouthful of chips.

“I said no snacks on my couch, Selena.”

“Oh really, Doc? My full name?” Sally shook her head and sent her boyfriend a wink on her way to the kitchen, mouthing: he never means it.

Lightning snorted. The difference between him and Sal was that she never got crumbs on the furniture. Doc still makes him stand in the kitchen with snacks.

~~~~

“I’m telling you, girl, it’s—Maisie.” Candice shook her. “Maisie.”

“Relax before I spill the coffee.” Maisie rolled her eyes, tone earnest despite her muted expression. “Look, I’m excited for you. I am. It’s a huge opportunity.”

“A HUGE opportunity!” Candice said with inflection that made Maisie proud. How you say something made all the difference. “Coconut, I’m going to star in the movie of the year! I’m going to be famous!”

Maisie moved farther from Candice before she could jostle her much more, setting the coffee near the director’s chair. She scanned the set for him but came up empty. Oh well. Hopefully it wouldn’t get cold.

It was a standard sci-fi set. Crew were rearranging the rocket ship props as actors hung around the food area. They were on the 27th take. Actor 1 (the protagonist) kept forgetting his lines, though he was running on a few hours of sleep. Actors 2 and 4 were told to emote more, but not told to make it sincere. Actor 3 had recently replaced the previous actor 3, who had pulled out for personal reasons, but new actor 3 was shy and kept mumbling. The director had simply cut when he’d had enough, rubbing his temples and tossing a coffee order somewhere.

Maisie had happened to be in that somewhere.

“Maisie? Coconut? Girl, are you, like, here?”

“Hm?” She turned back to her friend, who was pouting pretty loudly. “Nice pout. You’re good at showing emotion.”

Candice tilted her head, bubblegum hair following through like a curtain. “Thank you?”

“So what’s the movie about?” Maisie took a sip of her water while watching the actors get back in place.

“Something about racing. Daddy says it’s because of how popular the sport is these days.”

Maisie spit her water back in the glass to avoid choking.

“Oh yeah?” She croaked. There were napkins nearby. She dabbled at her mouth, heart in her ears. Throat sore.

“Mhm! You know that really popular one in red? Well, the director wanted the movie to be about him.” Candice bat her eyes with a pleased smile. “Daddy convinced him to change some stuff around so I could be the star, though.”

Maisie nodded slowly, keeping her face neutral. “And so you’re playing. . .” She cleared her throat to hide how her voice wavered. “The ‘one in red’?”

Candice laughed sweetly as she filled her lemon water. “Oh gosh, no. Red is so not my color. It’s a completely new, perfectly pink character with a backstory inspired by my own life.”

Maisie hummed. She felt cold. Flighty.

Get it together.

“Which, speaking of, is it not totally crazy how he got, like, lost?”

“What, to the race?” Monty never did have the best sense of direction.

“Yeah! No one’s heard from him since yesterday.”

Hold on. “He—what are you talking about?”

Candice waved her glass in the air, splashing water on the floor. “It was all over the news this morning! On daddy’s paper, the radio in the limo. . .”

“Candice.” Please, please let it not be true. “What do you mean no one’s heard from him?”

Her friend looked confused. “He’s. . .like, missing? I guess? His driver lost him on the road.” She put a hand on Maisie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re super flushed.”

No. No no no no no.

Maisie reached into her pocket with a shaky hand and managed to pull her phone out. It took a few tries to type some things in the search bar, her fingers kept stuttering, oh gosh—

There. The first result on the main page.

“BREAKING: Piston Cup rookie racer ‘Lightning McQueen’ reported missing.”

No NO.

Article after article.

“Rookie sensation lost on the road.”

“McQueen goes Missing: hauler without answer.”

“WHERE IS MCQUEEN??”

She shook her head. She couldn’t see through the tears.

“Maisie?” Candice said worriedly. Somewhere.

“I—I need to—“ Maisie pressed a hand to her own mouth as something heavy built in her chest. She sucked in a breath and walked quickly through blurred out faces.

Where’s the door.

“Maisie?!”

Her feet picked up as a sob forced it’s way out of her. She needed to get out.

“MAISIE!” Familiar heeled feet chased her. Maisie didn’t stop until she fell through a bathroom stall door and on her knees in time to be sick.

~~~~

“You and your brother will always be there for each other, okay?” Mom dried her hands as Maisie put the last few dishes away.

“Yeah, mama, but he made me so mad.”

“I know, dollop.” Mom pushed some of her curls back so they were looking at each other. “But he’s your family. That’s forever, baby. Dolls come and go.”

The corners of Maisie’s mouth shook. “But she was mine. . .”

“And that car was his. You can’t go breaking his stuff because he accidentally broke yours.” Mom rubbed her cheek and stood. “Now go say sorry. Monty said it about a dozen times.”

“Well he should have anyway,” Maisie sassed. But when her mother gave her a look, she withered.

With a huff Maisie dragged her feet out the kitchen. It wasn’t fair. That was her favorite toy, and Monty had just been so careless. He never looked where he was going. He—

Ow!

“Oh! Um—sorry.”

Maisie groaned at the pain flooding her forehead. From the floor she looked up as Monty shuffled uncomfortably. He held a hand out for her, eyes elsewhere. Maisie, still bitter, sighed through her nose and stood on her own. Monty visibly deflated.

“So. . . I’m sorry for breaking Delilah.”

“I know.” How many times was he going to say it?

“I could fix her! If you want?” He looked hopeful. It did nothing to sway her.

Maisie turned away before her resolve could crack. She was still angry and he wouldn’t change that.

After a while of staring at the carpet as Monty stared at her, she heard him walk away. She tried to ignore his sniffling.

~~~

It had been hours since she heard about his disappearance. Candice had held her hair back as she emptied her stomach in the bathroom. Maisie never stopped feeling sick, but she had heaved herself dry.

All she could do was lay in bed. Candice had tried to invite her over, “‘if it would make you feel better?”’

Maisie had declined. She was unsure if it would hurt more to be with others or alone. She was unsure if this was hurt, or just emptiness.

She felt numb.

Her favorite pajamas were folded neatly in her suitcase, forgotten in lieu of just some sweats and a t-shirt. She had barely gotten through a shower, going through the trouble only because she had spent well enough time slouched on the bathroom floor. Candace had insisted she get cleaned up.

How could this—

She curled into herself, hiding from the world. From everything.

How could this happen?

(“I promise I’ll call every chance I get—and visit, too, when I can!”

Maisie wiped her eyes, disguising the action as fixing her makeup. She was good at pretending. Monty smiled sadly. He always saw through her act.

“I’ll hold you to that.”)

A sob broke through. It felt all too familiar.

(“It’s been months, mama.” She hid her face in mom’s shoulder as fingers played through her short curls. “Not a peep.”

“Give it some more time, baby. It’s a busy career.” Mom tucked a kiss in her hair, the action equal parts loving and teasing. “You’ll understand when you’re the biggest actress there ever was, hm?”

Maisie giggled. “When I make it big, I’ll just buy a house for us all to live in together.”

“Yeah?” The calming embrace made her sleepy. Mama said something else but Maisie missed it, probably. She was lost in the peace of it all.”)

Maisie hardly cried.

Tears soaked the pillow.

(She laid in bed, staring past the hallway to a door that hadn’t been opened in years. That same cartoon racing poster was still there. It had faded over time.)

She didn’t know how long she laid there, crying openly in the hotel room. Her brother was missing and she hadn’t spoken to him in several years. Her brother was missing and if she would ever escape the guilt, she still worried that it was too late. She should have called.

Why hadn’t she called?

In her hand she clutched a little toy car.

It was all she had left.

~~~

(As Mack drove on through the night, fighting sleep at the kid’s demand, a little red phone lit up in the trailer with its 20th missed call. Another rang through a few seconds later. No one answered.)

~~~

“Hey, Monty. I. . .”

“You, uh—you’ve been missing for a few days. No one knows where you are. Could you maybe. . .show up?”

“Look. This is ridiculous. Where are you?”

“Please come back. Please be okay.”

“I miss you.”

She called every night. He never answered.

~~~

Mack pulled the kid into a hug, drowning out the crowd. Lightning was grateful for the embrace and the relief from all the noise.

“I’m real happy to have you back, bud. You gave everyone a real scare.”

Lightning couldn’t help his laugh. “Sorry I pushed you so hard.”

The hand rubbing up and down his back let him know that Mack didn’t hold anything against him. His past actions had been forgiven. Left behind alongside his ego. Lightning pulled away before tears could bleed into Mack’s collar.

“Aw, it’s all good, kid.” Mack ruffled his hair until Lightning was batting at the hand, giggling and wiping his eyes. “Sorry for letting you get stranded.”

McQueen smiled softly. “It’s all good.”

Suddenly Mack lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey! Here—“ he dug through his pocket and pulled out McQueen’s phone. “You left it in the trailer. Though it’s probably seen better days.”

The younger took it. It had a few cracks more than he had left it. Lightning wondered if one of his many, many trinkets fell onto the device. A small part of him said to toss some of that stuff out.

“Thanks. Probably time to just get a new one,” he pocketed it. “I, uh. I think I’m good not talking to Harv just yet, anyway.”

“Think he’s got an earful for ya?” Concern filled Mack’s voice.

“Nah.” Maybe. “He probably won’t like the news, though.”

“Oh?”

Lightning turned over his shoulder. The people of Radiator Springs, laughing and enjoying the moment. Good, honest, caring people who had come to support him. The only one missing was that head of blue. He couldn’t wait to see her. To spend a lot more time in the town that had changed his heart. This—they were his new home. It was a warmth he hadn’t felt in some time.

Yeah, Harv wasn’t gonna be too happy.

“I’ll tell you later. Come on, I want you to meet everyone.”

~~~

If nothing else, the view was amazing.

“Miss Maisie,” said a smooth voice. Unfortunately, one she recognized.

She sipped her coffee. “Mr. Tell.”

True to his name, Mr. Tell always had something to say. Maisie once wondered if perhaps that had informed his title, or vice versa.

“Funny we keep running into each other. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me.”

“Well, you know I just can’t stay away,” she returned with a politeness she didn’t feel. Tell was a friend to the director. Maisie always had to play nice. “Party was canceled?”

“Not hardly. I noticed a certain golden shadow was missing.”

She hid a sigh in her cup when he sat across from her.

“What’s got you so forlorn? You never miss a party. Til the last hour, you’re ever present and engaged,” he told her as if she didn’t know.

Despite how she felt about them, Maisie always made sure to attend every event and after-party. As small as her roles were, she had a responsibility to interact. This had been the first time she skipped.

The events of the past week threatened to spill through. But Maisie was nothing if not good at hiding.

“Sometimes a change of scenery is nice. Especially when there’s a good deal on coffee.”

Mr. Tell snorted. “I sure do enjoy bad coffee on a warm evening. Shame about that racer, huh?”

Her nails dug into the styrofoam. His chuckle was poison.

“You know, I saved that offer for you. Your career would take the skies with a good agent. I could be that for you.”

“Maybe.” Nah.

“So it’s a yes?” His hope was both amusing and annoying.

“You’re too kind, but I’m good here.” As she has said more than a few times before.

“Are you?”

“Can’t beat this coffee.”

He dipped to catch her eyes, silent. Despite the sunglasses on her face, she felt exposed.

He sucked in a breath. “Director’s been talking about letting some of you go.”

Maisie froze. She tried to control her voice, hide the tremble.

“That so.”

He nodded. “Too many faces in the crowd. It’s not his vision—his words, of course.” Sympathetically, he added, “he just doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

Carefully, in a controlled motion, she turned towards the city for comfort. “Well. Seeing what’s in front of him is his job.”

“Yeah, but he’s not the best at it, is he?” It shouldn’t have, but the care in his voice made her eyes mist. Made it feel real.

When she said nothing, he reached out to pin her chin between two fingers. She tugged away before he could. He sighed.

“Look, Miss Maisie—you could have it all. I’m telling you that you could have it all.”

“And that’s up to you?” She challenged in a watery voice. She grimaced at how abrupt she had responded. Too much. Her control was slipping.

His eyes softened, too kind for what she was comfortable with being faced. “Course. I know all the right people, the right companies. I’d put you at the top. It’s what you deserve, don’t you?”

She stared at him as if he would break her heart, should she hand it off. She held herself by a string, as she was so good at doing.

The problem with strings, and holding them so often, though, was their fragility.

“It is what I deserve.” She stood. He followed, looking bright.

“Atta girl. I already have a contract. Give me the night and I’ll have it to you by tomorrow afternoon. Good?”

Maisie tipped the drink down her throat. The city fell on her back, emboldening her. When she felt as though she had lost everything, it was there. She still had the lights.

With nothing else, it was home.

Their hands came together in a firm agreement. His was large and sure. She didn’t meet the strength of his grip, but he said nothing of it. She could tell he was plenty content.

Maybe eventually, she would be too.

“I won’t sign anything.” Not yet. Call her desperate, but she wasn’t stupid.

His smile was silk. “Course. You’re smarter than that, Miss Maisie. We can explore all the terms and conditions as much as you feel comfortable to.”

She inhaled deeply, relishing the night air. It felt like a last taste of freedom, in a way, though this was all her choice. A prisoner of her own surrender.

~~~

“That all?”

Maisie nodded, trading cash for the bag of snacks. She had a long drive to the airport. Candice had offered her dad’s limo, along with her bubbly company, but Maisie hadn’t really been willing to spend such a long time in an enclosed space with the one person who would be inquisitive enough to poke at her resolve. Candice had already seen her break down. That was more than enough vulnerability for Maisie.

Her phone buzzed. Checking it, she saw a text that read “‘be safe! Miss you already!’”

She cracked a smile. Candice was a sweet person. She hoped her friend would never lose that.

“‘Miss you to pieces, I’ll call when I land, literally freezing here, wish this place had hot coffee.’”

Send.

Her phone buzzed several times soon after (no doubt separate responses to each part of the message), but Maisie had her hands full with the bag and her (very cold) espresso. She thanked the cashier, shook her head when offered the change (“hands are full, keep it.”) and pivoted to walk out.

Then she heard it.

The small TV behind the register had been nearly mute the whole time. She had only noticed it when paying. But the voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t ignore it if she tried.

“‘It’s all in the past,’” her brother said in a kind, earnest voice unlike every other one of his media appearances. It was so like when he was home, Maisie felt herself choke up. “‘I’m starting anew. Someone real important to me taught me better.’”

Maisie tensed. Who was so important to him all of a sudden?

“‘So does this new start entail any other changes?’” The reporter said.

Monty nodded with a grin that could blind the sun. “‘I’m setting up my new headquarters in Radiator Springs.’”

“‘Radiwhat?’”

Maisie was already on her phone, searching up the place. She managed to balance her stuff in one arm, drink under her chin. Meanwhile TV-Monty went on about a cute little town off the map—made sense why she couldn’t find anything—that he had made a home in.

And that was where Maisie faltered.

Home, huh?

The cashier hummed. “Been a minute since I’ve heard about that place.”

Maisie’s head shot up. “Do you know where it is?”

“Over in Arizona.” She gave Maisie a look that bordered amusement and sarcasm. “Bit of a drive coming from here.”

Maisie deflated. That was on the opposite coast. Was she actually hoping to see him? Like, now? Well. . .

Yeah, she kind of was. Gosh she wanted—no, she was determined to see him. Especially after that scare. He was far away, but he was right there. Her brother had what sounded like a—

She let out a heavy breath.

A home. An actual home, he had admitted. Happily.

Had he moved on? What if he didn’t want to see her?

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” she hissed to herself. That was her brother, though miles and miles west. It was pretty funny, actually. He had always felt lightyears away since leaving. Like if she tried to reach him, they wouldn’t even be in the same galaxy. Was that dramatic?

“Yes,” she whispered to no one, eyes low though she couldn’t help it. The cashier had already begun helping another customer as Maisie stood at war with herself, nursing a coffee too cold to enjoy. Hardly warmed by the gas station walls.

Eventually she found the sense to at least go have her crisis in the car. It didn’t make the situation any easier, but at least she could use the heater.

She grimaced upon first sip. Maybe she should just toss the drink. For now she reached into the store bag for the hot chips she was looking forward to. Digging through the mess of packaging and wrappers, she eventually pulled them out. Blue.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Maisie fell into her hand. How had she managed to grab cool ranch Doritos of all things?

Monty would usually laugh at her, commenting about how she needed to ‘get off of autopilot.’ He always had her preferred spicy chili chips in hand for exactly those moments. She would usually stick her tongue out very not childishly as he grabbed at some red licorice. A candy she couldn’t stand but he somehow went wild for.

Sighing, she tossed the chips in the back, unwilling to brave the cold again. She would just have to deal.

In the meantime, she pulled out her phone and opened the navigation.

Almost 40 hours to Arizona. No clue on how to get to Radiator Springs. Would she even find it?

“It’s times like these when one must improvise,” she muttered under her breath. Back inside she went.

“Excuse me?” She asked the cashier in a sing-song. “Could you—I mean, if you don’t mind. How would I find Radiator Springs?”

The lady’s brows shot up. Maisie inclined her head just so, confirming the silent question.

Nodding in an impressed manner, the cashier leaned on her elbows, gaze tilting upwards. Her thin frames slid down her nose. “I haven’t been in some time. You might wanna try asking around that area. I remember a long road into town, so might run into someone soon enough.”

Maisie nodded, wondering if she was really about to do this. “Thanks. Could I get $20 on 4, by the way?”

She paused in the middle of gathering her wallet. Her heart sped up.

“Do you have any licorice?”

She was really about to do this.

~~~

“You almost done, buddy?” Mater asked for the 17th time.

Lightning sighed through his nose, losing against the chuckle that spilled through. “Mater, this is the best part. Just let me finish the chapter.”

“But you said that about three times already!”

Lightning paused. “Well, those have all been the best part.”

Mater pouted. “You ain’t no fun when you’re stuck in them books.”

“Sorry,” Lightning said with an apologetic smile.

While Mater went back to working on the car he had been tasked with by a tourist, admitting that he might as well pass the time productively until the two of them could go tractor tipping, McQueen dove back into his book.

Alice in Wonderland used to be nothing to him. He had never understood the nonsense of it all: random rabbits scurrying by; mean hatters at tea parties; queens that played croquet using flamingos. The story would just give him a headache and he’d go back to running around outside while Maisie kept reading, absolutely enthralled.

Monty smiled. She had always told him that it wasn’t ‘supposed to make sense, it was about the whimsy of it all,’ or something. She would always look so content reading it. The memory of her smile warmed him.

The book really was charming, now that had taken the time to enjoy it. Even if it still didn’t make sense. He wished he could tell her how it had grown on him.

So many unmade phone calls and missed visits sat between them. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she probably had everything going for her. Monty always knew she was talented. A natural born star. If he made it as far as he did, then no doubt Maisie had soared.

She didn’t need him. Probably didn’t want to hear from him, after so long.

“All done!”

Lightning glanced over his book as Mater reappeared from underneath the vehicle, covered in more oil and dirt than usual. His friend gave a hopeful, buck-toothed grin.

“Now are ya free?”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Lightning packed his book away and stood. “Yeah. If Sheriff rats on us to Doc, though, I’m blaming you.”

That earned him a snicker. “Shoot, we gotta get caught first.” Mater’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

They always got caught, and Sheriff always told Doc, and Doc always chastised Lightning for causing trouble but Lightning always wormed his way out of any consequences with his famous puppy dog eyes™️. He knew Doc didn’t actually fall for it, but he usually humored Lightning. And made him apologize to Sheriff despite them all knowing they would be back through the cycle again.

As it went, and as he liked it. After apologizing (while holding in their smiles) Lightning and Mater would hit up Flo’s for milkshakes. She would put extra strawberry in McQueen’s, while Mater stole his cherry (Flo would leave them a bowl anyway). Slowly others would melt into the diner for a late meal or coffee. Sally and Doc would gather for their weekly game night, waiting on Sheriff who would eventually walk in muttering about the boys’ shenanigans. Mater would spot him as Lightning heard him, and they would both try to hold in their laughter. Doc would shuffle cards and send a pointed look their way, but ultimately keep his lips sealed.

They all had their routines, flowing naturally around one another. It made each day familiar and fun, quaint as the town was. Their own special little nonsense. Lightning felt at home.

Maisie would love it here.

~~~

As usual, the phone went to voicemail. Still, Maisie left a message.

“Hey. So remember how we agreed that if it ever came down to it, we would drop everything and cross space to get to each other? I mean we were, like, ten. Hang on,”

She smiled when it was her turn. “Hi. Just a lemonade please. Large. Thanks so much.” She paid and put the phone back to her ear, stepping to the side. “Sorry, had to order. I actually haven’t eaten this much fast food since we were teens. I just got the drink, though. I ate earlier. Do you still like strawberry soda?”

Maisie glanced at the menu item. “‘Going soon!’”

“Better get it while you can.”

She met the employee when called for her lemonade, passing him a ‘thank you.’ She continued her voice message as she headed back to the car.

“Anyhow, I’m heading your way. Surprise!” She slid behind the wheel. “I know where you are. If you don’t want to see me, then. . .” Her eyes dampened until she blinked furiously to stop them.

“Then too bad. Be there soon as I can. If you get this and run, I’ll follow you to the sun and back.”

Maisie pulled out of the lot. Maybe she was just being a pain, too stubborn to move on and live her life. Let Monty live his. He had a successful racing career, a place to live, people who cared enough about him to impart wisdom and even take him in. He was set. Was Maisie really about to disrupt that?

(“When you get out there—and it’ll be you first, trust me,” Monty started. “I don’t care what happens. We call every day. When you become rich and buy a mansion and write, direct, produce, and star in your own movie or stage play, I’ll find you.”

Maisie snorted. “Weren’t we both supposed to star in our own movie or stage play?”

“Not a chance.” Monty flicked her tiny hat. “You’re going way further than I ever will. You’re too good.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She meant it.

Fireworks burst out in the distance. Mama ran outside with an armful, crying ‘happy new year!’ as she hugged them both. They all guzzled apple cider and traded spoonfuls of black eyed peas and grapes. Monty cringed as he swallowed the peas but happily ate the grapes. Maisie helped herself to another cup of cider. Mama kissed their cheeks.

“My babies. Happy new year.”

The twins echoed it back to their mom, snuggled under her arms. They turned to each other, laughing for different reasons. Monty’s paper hat had fallen. Cider dribbled down Maisie’s chin.

“Happy new year,” they said together. More fireworks went off above them.”)

She sucked in a breath and hit the road. If Monty didn’t want her in his new life, he could tell her himself. She was going to see her brother.

Five minutes in, she was stuck in a sea of cars.

Maisie slouched in her seat with a sigh. Well, she would see him whenever traffic cleared.

[nat-seal-well]

Werewolf (WIP) Wednesday

I’m on my lunch break right now and I figured I would share a little bit of the original thing I’ve been working on <3 it’s been a long time since I last wrote anything original, so we’ll see how this goes, lol.

(TW for emetophobia)

Lauren Huntley wakes the same way she does about once a month, which is to say she wakes sore, with her head at an angle that sends pain shooting up the back of her skull, and covered in something that is sticky. Or was sticky, once. It’s dry now and tight across the exposed stretches of her skin, like a second epidermal layer.

All of these things are not unusual. They are not unusual on their own, anyway. Desperate, Lauren can handle them, like tasks to address and cross off on a list one at a time. All at once is an entirely different story. She pries her eyes open and then shuts them closed again when her ailments bombard her, as if doing so will make them go away, like they had before she first woke.

It doesn’t work like that, her brain says idly. Technically, it was all still there before you opened your eyes. You just weren’t away for that.

To which Lauren tells the lump of fat in her skull, Thanks for that.

It occurs to her a second later that she actually has a brain to have stray thoughts again in the first place. Maybe she shouldn’t be so hard on her wandering mind, after all. Having actual, coherent musings is a luxury she’s learned to appreciate after all these years. Most people wouldn’t consider it to be a luxury at all, and rather a normal part of everyday life, and being—you know, human—but then again, that’s most people. Lauren stopped being a part of the majority a king time ago. For better or worse. And usually it’s for the worst.

As nice as lying in place for the rest of forever sounds, she knows she has to get up and start moving at some point. Might as well get it over with.

Light overhead blinds her when she opens her eyes a second time. She has to blink it away before they can adjust, but she already knows what it is. The source can only come from one thing. Besides, the rest of her senses already have enough information gathered to put together a general picture of where she is. More or less.

The sunlight is warm and early-morning yellow, pale like the shade of a child’s bedroom wall. (Lauren’s was never that color, but she had a friend whose room was, and it reminds her of fresh days and cereal bowls after late-night sleepovers.) She is flat on her back and facing the sky, and it would be almost pleasant if it weren’t for the mud under her. And all the other things that are already bothering her. The bubbling of a river at her side is a nice touch, though. She’ll have to thank the other her for choosing such a nice place to black out after… all of it. Even if she ended up deciding to use a rock as a makeshift pillow.

As wakefulness returns to her, she finds she’s grateful for the moving water more for than just the soothing background noise it provides.

Lauren fights against the aching in her bones so that she can haul herself upright and into a sitting position. There is a—a taste in her mouth. She recognizes it in a sort of twofold way. There is the other her, the one who was responsible for it. That version revels in the gamy lingering on her tongue and the tang of iron. But unfortunately, that one is not at the forefront at the moment, or in charge of all the controls. If she was, Lauren wouldn’t be here, in this physical form, gagging at the persistent flavor of raw, massacred—is that elk?—still in her mouth. And because it’s this version of her, she lurches to her knees so she can make for the undergrowth by the riverside, where she promptly empties the entire contents of her stomach onto the forest floor.

Elk. It’s always elk. Lauren hates elk.

[kieranhqs]

[ jacob anderson, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! DANIEL SUTTON just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for NINE YEARS, working as an EMERGENCY NURSE PRACTITIONER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 33 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit BASHFUL and INDECISIVE, but i know them to be DEPENDABLE and COMPASSIONATE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! — (penny, 24, gmt, she/her, none)

fullname:  daniel rené sutton. nickname(s): danny ( his preferred choice ), dan. age:  thirty-three. birthday: november 12th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  bisexual / biromantic. place of birth: new orleans, louisiana current residence: queens, new york. languages: english, french, spanish & asl. height: 5'8. personality: loyal, empathetic, obsessive, stubborn.

( tw ; car accident, drunk driver, injury, depression & ptsd. )

born in new orleans, daniel was primarily raised by his mother ( originally from baton rouge ) and sister, as his father ( originally from queens ) travelled a lot for work.

his kind-hearted nature and seemingly tireless desire to help people made of his choice of nursing for a career unsurprising. daniel graduated at the top of his class in his bsn and started work in nola as soon as he could.

the relocation to queens around a year later was the first and really only truly impulsive decision danny ever made. he'd been thinking about moving out of louisiana whilst still studying, but figured he'd never be brave enough to do it. he'd joke the endless teasing from his sister about it was the motivator.

he settled in queens, discovering he loved it more than he could ever dream of. with the goal of becoming a nurse practitioner in mind and the solidification of his love for emergency medicine, he took the exam to become a certified emergency nurse and a handful of other certifications. maybe not a necessary step, but one he enjoyed doing -- it felt like progress.

the next step was to get his msn, something he opted to do online. ( TW ) was cycling home from a night shift one morning when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke a couple of days later to a shock ( and thinking that it was funny that someone who worked in emergency medicine would be surprised by his injuries ). daniel had been lucky, really. at least, that's what people said -- at the time he could only think that was an unbelievably cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated ; initially below the knee but complications arose and so he ended up an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed. a smattering of scars here and there the only other thing to show for his ordeal.

not unexpectedly, daniel was diagnosed with ptsd and had fallen into depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. he refused to even think about his life beyond, let alone work ; his msn was paused and he insisted he would never go back to it for a while. eventually and no doubt entirely thanks to the efforts of friends, family & the professionals around him daniel came round.

by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life ( the level of pain he's in & the prevalence of depression are inextricably linked ), but they have dissipated significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else when you don't want to deal with your own problems. ( TW END )

since the accident just over a year and a half ago, daniel has completed his msn and settled into his role as an enp and overjoyed with the achievement of his goal.

headcanons

definitely the black cat to @jackfm's golden retriever. speaking of cats, daniel has an orange cat called sidney ( sid ) who is a rescue and probably his best bud.

accent is kind of mess. the nola tinge ( non-rhotic, th = d pronunciation) ) is definitely at the forefront, but it's also influenced by the accents of his family from other areas of louisiana and queens. danny is very soft-spoken, borderline mumbly ( kinda will lamontagne-esque if ur familiar with criminal minds asdfak ) but also very aware that this can make him even more difficult to understand so he def has a 'phone / work voice ' he uses to be clearer.

big good samaritan vibes. he has a particular set of skills and Will show up with an advanced medical kit ready to fix anything he can if need be. also BIG into music. plays piano & guitar ( mostly acoustic bc that's his personal preference ) and secretly has a very nice voice but he'd probably actually drop dead if someone ever mentioned that.

probably an ambivert, but also shy as hell. he's definitely got a lot less shy since starting work just out of necessity but still prefers to blend into the background at social events and with people he doesn't know. it's something he's trying to work on. has a massive heart, his friendship is not hard to win but damn near impossible to shake off ( not least bc he knows he was sometimes an A+ asshole in recovery and anyone who stuck around through that deserves at least the same energy from him. )

wanted connections

literally everything pls. best friend, good friends, a bad / good influence who encourages him to socialise & get out of his comfort zone more, ex & present day crushes / flings, neighbours, flirtationship, exes & co workers.

[jinkicake]

Okay hear me out,,,, I’ve been thinking about that Albedo fic NONSTOP like it was so *chefs kiss* like I can vividly see his expression and it will not leave my brain🥰 but it’s kazuha and Lucifer’s turn in the frontal lobe😔 so I’m like I would let them too. Like growing up really makes you think bc 7 years ago I was like “I don’t get how people are into degrading and humiliation🤢” and now mid 20s I get it!! Thinking about kazuha being an absolute menace and immobilizing me and doing whatever bc he would! He’s nothing if not a tease and the other 50% of the time he’s not pussy drunk he’s a sadist. Had a dream a while ago where we were drinking and he was like “you can take me or I can take you. I’ve been far and wide and have seen many things traveler” HES A SLUT🗣 wishing I could remember what happened in detail😔 but before I woke up he said “next time we meet you can bring the rope and tie me up” AMD I AM PATIENTLY WAITING FOR HIM TO ENTER MY DREAMS AGAIN!! Foaming @ the mouth thinking about running into him post sumuru with scaramouche trailing behind you dragging his feet like a brat🙄 he definitely gets lost and has to ask kazuha where the harbor is and he’s so friendly and kind they start talking but he hears his name and is like “damn we gotta trauma bond now I guess” and trIES TO FIGHT HIM WHICH IS SO FUNNY TO ME “to make amends for my sins I will let you fight me” scaramouche is so annoying 😭 looking for his stupid ass and running into kazuha post dream encounter and being like “🥺 omg hey I haven’t seen you since Inazuma bestie you want to help me w my daily comission?” If scara asks why isn’t he enough I mean… you got your anemo vision like a week ago kazuha has had his fro way longer… also he fought your mom I just trust him to be a quick thinker and bc I want to get my back blown out. And ik he’s a whiney little bitch and he can’t just tell me he was about to unload his tragic backstory unprompted bc he happened to run into a kadehara💀 but he’s like 6 steps behind bc pouting and rolling his eyes is his best quality but he’s noticing kazuha seems a little too friendly🤨 and he’s right! In my mind kazuha is the king of lingering touches but nobody will notice. Like his hand is on your waist for 10 seconds too long his face is a few inches too close to yours but like who would think he has devious intentions?(Beidou can smell it a mile away) so he’s definitely suspicious when we sneak off to a uninhabited corner of the teapot under the guise of me “showing him around” like honestly that’s his fault :/ if he don’t want to catch me riding kazuha until my legs give out he should have just stayed in the house😊 saw a comic that really confined his PETTY kazuha is ( “you know other men??” And he names off all the men that you know in alphabetical order) he would make direct eye contact w him and proceed to go deeper. You’re not flexible? Don’t worry you will be💕 will absolutely make your brain liquify in your skull while not even blinking. I will humbly extend scaramouche the invitation to join in🥰 like please give me a reason to not be able to do them daily commissions 😭😭 im tired of having to go place to place and then back to Katherine I need a vacation!! But gaslighting kazuha into being an even crazier yandere>>> like rip for them lmao im manipulating YOU. You think I’m shaking in my boots trying to escape meanwhile im thinking up how to make you worse🥰 relationship should be 50/50!! They’re obsessed w me and willing to kill my neighbors for being loud and I ride their dick and milk them dry until they’re drooling and trying to lift me off😌

which one?? the one i wrote?? hehehe

i get understand the luci forefront... i truly do like it's him and kaeya who are on my mind 24/7.... need them... i need them!!! sometimes it's mammon too but--- i dream about lucifer every night T T

NOOOOOO literally like years ago id be like 'ugh how are people into that' and now all i want is to make a big man cry teehee so i get it~

KAZUHA IS A SLUT I JUST KNOWWW ITTT LIKE he's been all over the world and you expect me to think that he hasn;t done shit before.... he's experienced and knows literally everything... i love him :-((((( im replaying the inzauma archon quest rn and am skipping all the scenes that don't have him in it looool ugh your dreams are so good it's not fair im jealous T T

gasp youre right like kazuha fought raiden and lived.... scaramouche was abandoned LMAOOOO... i think im gonna bench scara! kazuha youre coming w me to do commissions!!! but.... at the same time... i say bring both! bring both! fuck both! i like the idea of a scara kazuha threesome... thoughts???/

i like yandere kazuha we need more yandere kazuha why don't i get enough yandere kazuha!!!! :-(((

[keefwho]

March 07 - 2024 Thursday

10:45pm

1/10

I woke up to a good morning message from Daisy saying she was glad I'm her friend which made me smile. I was meant to get ready for a haircut this morning but it got postponed for unknown reasons. I had gotten cereal to snack on since I didn't feel like I could eat a meal. With the haircut news, I tried to re-adjust my schedule to a normal one. I didn't feel like streaming so I worked while attending Bramble's server VC. She let me speak to her about some heavy stuff on my mind while I worked. She had to leave for lunch and then I joined Turkey for the little while she played Overwatch. At some point I was hungry enough to slowly eat a can of off brand spaghettios which were pretty bad. I did all my commission work for the day and took a breather until lunch. I did my self exercise for the day too. For lunch I made half a totinos pizza and some rice. I was feeling quite awful during afternoon work so all I did was today's request. Other than that, I tried working on on struggle hierarchy and spent the rest of the evening overthinking. I played 1 round of Helldivers with Jared. I tried relaxing with a Squeex stream for a bit with my tea. When Daisy was free, we just kept each other company and talked some. In bed we talked more and it was something I really needed. I got some good reassurance. After she fell asleep, I joined Bramble and Aether in VRchat. A certain someone joined and ruined the whole night but I've blocked and unfriended him for good this time. He just never knows when to quit.

~~~

Today was god awful. From the start of the day I was totally overwhelmed by my thoughts and emotions. I completely lost touch with how to deal with them today. Like I know some things that might have helped but it all felt like too much. As usual I just needed to talk about it but I feel I'm reaching my talking limit with my friends. I looked into this app that hooks you up with strangers to voice chat about a topic you set but I haven't tried it yet. Im trying not to beat myself up about how I've been feeling and thinking. It feels like my entire life got flipped upside down and every single part of me that I was working on was suddenly shoved to the forefront of everything and amplified.

[arwenlalaith]

Between the Blues and the Pinks (Ch. 13)

Ship: Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss

Summary: The Baby Blues: The temporary feelings of sadness following having a baby. Also known as Postpartum Depression. The Baby Pinks: The mild mania experienced following having a baby. Also known as Postpartum Euphoria.

Warnings: Mental health issues, postpartum mood disorders.

Word Count: 1072

Emily woke up around two AM when the mattress jostled as Alex climbed out of bed. With a yawn, she pushed herself to sit up, combing the hair out of her face as she did so. "Where are you going?" she asked, squinting against the light of the TV screen in the darkened bedroom. She'd always been a light sleeper, but ever since Lindy was born, she'd been waking at the slightest movement or noise.

Alex made no efforts to hide the way she rolled her eyes at Emily's insistence on watching her every move. "I need my laptop," she said on an exasperated sigh. "Is that okay with you?" She couldn't sleep. She rarely slept anymore. She needed to be vigilant, though she couldn't entirely articulate why without sounding – she knew – like she was completely out to lunch...

"Alex..." she said, sounding weary down to her very soul.

(For a split second, Alex felt a surge of guilt well in her chest, knowing she was responsible for Emily's exhaustion...but it only lasted a brief moment before the anger and bitterness was once again at the forefront of her mind.)

She didn't let Emily get very far into whatever it was she might've had to say. "I'm not a child, Emily, and I'd really appreciate if you stopped treating me as if I were. For fuck's sake, Lindy has more freedom than I do!" It wasn't necessarily true, but it really drove her point home.

"Alex," Emily tried again, "You know I'm not trying to curtail your freedom, I'm only trying to..."

"I don't care," she said dismissively. "Go back to sleep."

And, though she tried her best not to dwell on the words, Emily couldn't help but feel her wife's carelessness cut her to the quick... She just had to keep telling herself that this wasn't the real Alex. This was her postpartum psychosis talking. And she just had to ride this rough period out and she'd get her loving, gentle, sweet wife back. She just had to remember that.

________

"Good morning, Mrs. Miller," JJ chirped when she arrived that morning. "Sleep well?" She moved through the house, collecting the assortment of discarded burp cloths and onesies that had never made it to a laundry basket. It wasn't technically part of her job, but she took on the task without being asked – afterall, she could see just how much the two women were struggling and she couldn't help but want to make things as easy as possible for them.

Alex made an indecisive noise without breaking diverting her gaze from her laptop screen where she was studiously scrolling through (from the brief glance JJ caught) what appeared to be a rabbit hole of medical journals. In front of her, the TV screen flashed from a commercial to a title screen declaring her to be watching Monsters Inside Me.

JJ frowned at the first few lines the narrator spoke. She would have liked to ask whether this was truly something she wanted to be watching...but before she could get the words out (or pause to consider whether it was wise to speak them), an actor recreated a scene in which a live snail emerged from a young boy's knee wound.

Emily came down the stairs with Lindy in her arms, then, and Alex was quick to change the channel, which JJ found to be odd, but it wasn't her place to comment on it.

_________

"Text me as soon as you're done, okay?" Emily said as she pulled up to the curb outside the library. She didn't trust Alex to drive on her own and she knew Alex hated being treated with kid gloves like this, but she wasn't about to take the risk, certainly not with Lindy in the backseat...

Alex rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother," she said sarcastically. For a split second, she could see the hurt flash in Emily's eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again.

"Just have fun," Emily said gently. She reached across the centre console to squeeze Alex's hand, offering her a soft smile that Alex failed to return.

Without another word, Alex climbed out of the car and began the ordeal of unfolding the stroller and fitting the carseat into it.

Alex had been quite insistent that morning that she wanted to attend a Baby and Me group held at the local library. And, given the way Alex had seemed so utterly checked out from interacting in any way with the baby, Emily had agreed that it was a good idea. Afterall, the library would be filled with plenty of witnesses, so it was unlikely that Alex would attempt anything dangerous or unwise.

At first, she'd tried to sell Alex on the idea of them attending as a family, but Alex had maintained that it was important she spend time bonding with Lindy on her own, so Emily had eventually relented.

When she entered the library, Alex took a sharp left, in spite of the sign declaring the Baby and Me group being to the right... She headed straight to the non-fiction section – more specifically 595.44 – where she found the person she'd secretly arranged to meet.

"Alex?" the young man whispered, glancing about nervously.

She nodded. "Dr. Reid, it's good to see you again.  I didn't realize your expertise extended to..."

He cut her off, asking, "You said you had some questions about spiders?"

"It's urgent..." she said, also keeping her voice to a whisper, in case of eavesdroppers.

He hummed a thoughtful note at that. "You could have put the questions in the email and..."

She shook her head then. "They're reading my emails," she maintained, gaze darting about frenetically. "They can't know I'm on to them..." Reid looked like he would have liked to delve into that matter further, but he didn't get the chance to speak before Alex was once again asking questions. "I need to know if spider eggs could survive in formula."

"In baby formula?" he clarified.

"I know they're poisoning her with something," she maintained, "I just have to figure out what it is before they figure out I'm on to them."

[bichachonacho]

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."