#this was a pain bc as soon as the hand gif ends it starts fading 2 smth else so the gif ends rlly abruptyl

[dixons-sunshine]

js read your shopping spree and dying for your haircut fics and omg

can u pretty please, with a bow on top, write another part to that series or like an au where they get separated at the fall of the world and a few season later (preferably that prison era of daryl he was so fawking sexy there like omg) they found each other again and i want some build up to their reunion yk like someone else finds r and brings them in and some ppl kinda chatting abt the new girl or wtv and dars not rlly gaf cuz he kinda getting tired of trying to find r (realistically i don’t think he’d give up easily but let’s js pretend yk) but then they see each other and they’re like omfg the love of my life’s here and safe and like i need that glenn and maggie type reunion but like tenfold bc r and dar alr loved and knew each other before the fall yk and like yeah😣

idky but i’m a sucker for “r and daryl had a relationship beforehand, got separated, and reunited” trope (?) fic, blurb shit and you’d literally be godsent if u wrote this oml

I Found You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the dead started to rise and the world went to hell, Daryl got seperated from you, the love of his life. After over a year of searching for you and finding no evidence of your survival, Daryl was beginning to give up and count his losses. One day, Carol stumbled upon a wounded woman while out on a run with Glenn, and the two of them decide to accept you into the prison. Little did they know, that would end up being one of the best decisions they could've ever made.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4, post season 3.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, mentions of attempted sexual assault (not descriptive)

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I've decided to write the au since there's already a part three for the SSHD (Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams) universe in the works, but this request was way too good to not write. I hope you like it! And I absolutely agree with you. There's something about prison era Daryl that just hits different. He was on another level completely.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

(Just thought I'd say that both third- and second person is used. I referred to the reader in third  person when Glenn and Carol first met her, but it soon shifts to second person when she introduced herself. Just thought I'd let y'all know the shift is intentional.)

—

“Okay, so I can't guess what you did before all of this correctly, but I bet there is something that I will be right about.”

Daryl looked at Zach skeptically as they trudged through the abandoned store, looking for supplies to bring back to the prison. “Yeah? Wha's tha'?”

“You're brooding, quiet, you like to keep to yourself,” Zach started, leaning nonchalantly against one of the shelves while he watched the archer place multiple different packs and boxes into his bag. “The way you act most of the time would suggest you've never been in a relationship before, but there are clear signs that you were with someone before all of this.”

Daryl stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering above a pack, before regaining his composure and continuing his task. “Wha' signs?”

“Well, for one, you know exactly what kind of tampons and pads to get for the ladies at the prison. I would've just dumped everything in and have them sort through it, but you are only taking specific brands,” Zach pointed out, motioning to the box of tampons Daryl had just put back onto the shelf.

When Daryl didn't reply, Zach took that as his cue to continue. “And while we're on the topic of periods, you seem to know exactly what to get the girls for the pain and what to do to curve their bad tempers. What guy would know that if he didn't have a girlfriend before all of this? And to top it all off, and this is totally unrelated to everything I just said, I've seen that locket necklace you keep in your pocket. It's pretty worn out and faded, but you can definitely tell it's something from this generation, so it can't be something that was passed down from a relative, so that brings me to my conclusion. You, Daryl Dixon, had a girl before all of this.”

Daryl sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he willed the onslaught of memories away. Memories that were too painful to think of, memories that did nothing but remind the archer of his failure. His failure at finding you, the love of his life, after the dead started walking. A failure he had to live with for as long as he remained alive.

Daryl opened his eyes and turned abruptly, leaving the young man behind him as he stalked towards the exit, his bag slung over his shoulder. Zach hurriedly caught up to him, struggling to keep at a steady pace beside him as Daryl strode quickly, wanting to put some distance between him and Zach.

“Woah, man! Slow down!” Zach complained, jogging to keep up with him. “Was it because I brought up the girl thing? I didn't realise it was a touchy subject.”

“It ain't none of yer damn business,” Daryl grumbled under his breath, stalking over to the truck him and Zach were using that day.

“Daryl! Come on, man. It's not that deep.”

Daryl gritted his teeth as he opened up the driver's side door of the truck, throwing his bag into the back before climbing inside. He started up the truck and revved the engine, a warning sign to Zach that he was about to leave, with or without him.

Zach hurriedly scurried into the passenger seat, barely having time to close the door before Daryl started speeding off. He gripped the edge of his seat, sending Daryl an exasperated look.

“Daryl, what the hell? Calm down!” he exclaimed, unnerved by the archer's sudden burst of fury. He'd seen Daryl angry before, but it was never directed towards him. It was downright scary.

“'M calm,” Daryl replied through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“That's what you call calm?!” Zach exclaimed, motioning out towards the road. “You're driving like a maniac! Slow down!”

Daryl simply ignored the man, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Memories of you unwillingly flooded his mind. Memories of your smile, your laugh and your beautiful eyes. Memories of the calm mornings you'd spend with the archer in your shared sad excuse for an apartment where the hot water was a joke. Memories where you'd both stand under the cold water of the shower, Daryl embracing you from behind in an attempt to make the cold water bearable for you. Memories of your loving touch on his skin, your fingers lightly tracing over the scars on his back as you whispered reassuring things into his ear, assuring him that his father's abuse had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't his fault that any of that happened to him.

The more Daryl's mind wandered, the more he remembered some of the bad memories. All those arguments you had with him over some of his escapades with Merle, telling him that it would only get him into trouble, flooded his mind. One of those arguments ended up being the reason he got seperated from you in the first place.

Merle had wanted to go do some drug deal and had barged into your apartment, practically dragging Daryl from your bed. You had begged him not to go, arguing with him that it was a bad idea and that something would go wrong this time. He remembered being so angry at you for insisting during that argument that Merle wasn't good for him, that he needed to cut back on seeing him or set some boundaries with him. He had stormed out of the apartment without so much as a goodbye, and now he regretted it more than he's regretted anything before in his life.

Daryl blamed himself daily for not having listened to you that day. If he had, he never would've been seperated from you and you would've been safe by his side. He longed to have you by his side again, to tell you that he was sorry and that he loved you. However, even after all this time of searching, going out for extended periods of time to look for signs of you, it was to no avail. You were gone, and it was all his fault.

“Daryl? Are... you okay?”

Daryl snapped back to reality at the sound of Zach's concerned voice. He felt a droplet of water roll down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, realising that he was crying. He hadn't even realised that tears had started to well up in his eyes, so immersed was he in his own thoughts.

“'M fine,” Daryl insisted, wiping his eyes hurriedly as he willed the tears away.

Zach furrowed his eyebrows, before realisation dawned on him. “You did have a girl before all of this. You lost her, didn't you?” he asked sympathetically.

Daryl hesitantly nodded, swallowing in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I didn't lose her,” he began, bringing the truck to a halt in front of the prison gates as he waited for someone to open them.

“I don't know if she's even dead at all. She's just... Gone.”

—

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Glenn asked Carol as they scanned over the shelving of an abandoned pharmacy, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Carol sighed as she looked upon yet another empty shelf, its medical contents a thing of the past. “Anything medical. With all the new people we've been taking in, the supplies we have aren't going to be enough.”

“Okay,” Glenn drawled hesitantly. “But it doesn't look like there's anything worth scavenging here.”

“Let's just do a once over before we check the back. If there's nothing, we head on back. It's getting late,” Carol instructed. Glenn nodded, and the two of them dispersed to sweep through the small store once more.

“So,” Glenn started. “Is it just me, or has Daryl been more grumpy than usual?”

Carol hummed in agreement. “He has. He gets angry at the smallest of things lately.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” Carol said, shaking her head. “I've asked him, but he won't say anything. Just tells me to mind my own business. It's really odd. He's more like he was back at the quarry. More closed off and snappy and I don't know why.”

“It's ever since he came back from that run with Zach a week ago,” Glenn replied, meeting up with the Carol again to go into the back room. “I've asked Zach if he knows why, but he refused to say anything. Says it's not his place to say.”

Carol frowned, opening the door that lead into the back room. “That's odd. So that means something—”

“Stay right there. Don't move another inch or I swear to god I'll shoot.”

Both Carol and Glenn froze in their tracks. They looked up and locked eyes with a woman, who's eyes were fiery as they darted between them.

“Names. Now. And weapons on the ground.”

“Okay, alright,” Carol responded, trying to diffuse the situation. She slowly lowered her gun and knife to the ground, urging Glenn to do the same. “I'm Carol, and this is Glenn. Now before we answer anymore questions, what's your name?”

The woman hesitated for a moment. “Y/n. What are you doing here?”

“We were looking for some supplies,” Carol spoke truthfully, eyeing the gun aimed at her carefully. “We're running low on medical things.”

After a couple of long, tense moments, with you scanning them from head to toe, you nodded to yourself after spotting something. Deciding to trust them for now, you slowly lowered the gun. However, you quietly hissed in pain, quickly clutching your side as you stumbled to regain your balance. After you steadied yourself, you limped over to your bag and grabbed a few things before handing them over to Carol and Glenn.

“Here. Hope these help. The place was ransacked when I got here. Wasn't a lot left to clear out.”

“Thank you, but we need more than this. This isn't going to last us long,” Carol responded, placing the items into her bag.

“No offence, lady, but I think I need the supplies more than you do at the moment. And I gave you more than half already. I can't spare more,” you said, clutching your side tightly.

“What happened?” Glenn asked, pointing to the your side, unable to stop his curiosity from seeping through.

“Flesh eaters,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I was fighting a bunch of them when one lunged at me from the side. It toppled me through a broken window, and a shard sliced me.”

“Don't you have a group? Couldn't they help you?” Glenn questioned.

“Nope. I've been on my own since this whole thing started. I guess I should probably find a group, though. Things like this wouldn't happen if I had backup.”

You gingerly lifted your shirt, and both Carol and Glenn grimaced at the painful sight. The wound was deep and oozing blood. It would definitely need stitches, as well as someone to remove the remaining fragments of glass that still painfully stuck out of the wound. It was terrible. You wouldn't be able to get it all out without a professional.

Suddenly, an idea struck Carol. “You gave us some of the supplies you scavenged without even knowing us. Why?”

“Well, you didn't try to kill me, even after I held you at gunpoint. And by the looks of it, you guys have a group and are set up somewhere. Figured I should do the honourable thing and offer up some medical things if there's kids involved.”

“How do you know there's kids?” Glenn asked, confused.

“I can see the toys in your bag,” you pointed out, motioning to the toy truck that stuck out of the top of his bag. “Figured that adults wouldn't be playing with toy trucks while the world was ending.”

“Still, why would you? You don't owe us anything,” Carol questioned, though her mind was already set on one thing.

“Some might call me naive, but I hope that by doing some good in this fucked up world, karma will decide to do something good for me. That probably makes me stupid as shit, huh?” you replied, laughing before wincing at the pain that shot through your side at the small action.

Carol smiled at you. “We have a group set up not too far from here, at the prison. You can join if you want, but you have to answer three questions first.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Three questions? That's it?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Alright, shoot.”

“How many walkers have you killed?” Carol began, watching you closely.

“A lot. Too many to keep track of at this point.”

“How many people have you killed?”

You hesitated for a moment, guilt creeping up on you. “Three.”

“Why?”

“Two of them were bit. They asked me to kill them. The other one... That bastard tried to rape me. I wouldn't let him.”

“I'm sorry,” Glenn said sympathetically.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you waved him off, before turning your attention back to Carol. “How'd I do? Satisfactory enough?”

Carol nodded. “For me, yes. You'll still need to meet the leader and have him evaluate you, but I think you'll be alright. You'll fit in just fine.”

“Hopefully,” you laughed nervously, instantly paying the price for it with a sharp pain shooting up your side, making you visibly wince.

“Come on, let's get going. We have a doctor who can get that checked out for you,” Glenn prompted. He walked over to you and grabbed your bag, stopping your protest instantly. “It's fine, I've got it. One extra bag won't kill me.”

Together, all of you made your way out of the pharmacy and over to their car. You got settled in the back while Carol and Glenn got into the front, and before long you were setting off to the prison. Your eyes were beginning to droop, but Glenn seemed eager to get to know the new recruit better.

“What were you doing out there on your own anyway?”

“I was looking for my boyfriend. I was hoping that he might still be alive.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, pursing your lips. “I'm beginning to think I might never find him, if he's even still alive.”

“Never say never,” Glenn encouraged you. “You'll find him someday, I know it.”

“I really hope so.”

—

“Have you seen that new chick Glenn and Carol brought back? She's a real looker.”

“I know, right? You think she's into blondes?”

“Even if she was, I doubt she'd go for your scrawny ass.”

“Easy, boys. She might not even be into guys. I could have a shot with her for all you know.”

Daryl groaned inwardly as he entered the cellblock. The new girl that Glenn and Carol brought in the day before was seemingly the hottest topic of discussion amongst everyone and he couldn't escape it, no matter where he tried to run to. Nobody, apart from Glenn, Carol, Rick and Hershel have officially met her, yet everybody had seemingly already formed an opinion about her. Although there were a lot of different opinions, everyone seemingly agreed on one thing; the new girl was hotter than hell.

Daryl was the only guy in the entire prison that hadn't seen her yet. He was out hunting when Carol and Glenn brought her back and he hasn't bothered to go out of his way to introduce himself to her ever since he got back. He'd meet her soon enough and he wasn't hoping to make friends with her. The more people he managed to keep at arm's length, the better.

“Yo, Daryl. What do you think about the new chick?” a guy called Mitchell asked him, snapping him from his thoughts.

Daryl shrugged. “Ain't met her yet,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but have you seen her?” another guy called Ronnie asked. “I'm telling you, man, hotter than the sun on a summer day. I'm hoping she'll let me hit at least once.”

“How 'bout ya leave the poor girl alone?” Daryl snapped, turning to face the group that was walking with him. “She ain't even been here two days and y'all are already ogling her like she's some prize to be won. Have some more respect.”

“Jeez,” Mitchell whistled. “What's got your panties up in a bunch?”

“Nothin',” Daryl muttered angrily, turning around to walk further into the cellblock. “Jus' wanna get this fuckin' job done and all y'all can do is yap 'bout some girl ya dun' even know properly. I dun' give two flyin' shits 'bout who or wha' ya talk 'bout, but do it after the job's done. Y'all ain't free loadin' here. Do yer job, earn yer keep.”

“Sorry,” a girl called Ariana muttered, sending him an apologetic look. “What do you need us to do?”

“Take those planks over there and take em to the guard tower. Rick wants to fortify it and wants it done by the end of the week.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ronnie asked, crossing his arms as he sized Daryl up.

Daryl glared at him and squared his shoulders, looking down on his shorter, scrawny frame. “Hershel needs help with somethin'. I believe ya can understand tha' if the doctor needs somethin' done, it's considered top priority?”

Ronnie shrunk under Daryl's intense glare, nodding quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great.”

With that, Daryl turned on his heel and set off to find Hershel. He didn't have to search far, however, because Hershel halted him before he could go outside.

“Daryl, over here,” the old man called after him, halting him in his tracks.

Daryl turned and walked over to Hershel, nodding at him respectfully. “Wha' ya need, Doc?”

“I'm sure you've heard of the girl Carol and Glenn brought back yesterday by now?” Hershel questioned, chuckling at the slight groan Daryl emitted.

“Who hasn't? Apparently she's really good lookin'. Her looks has been all people has to say 'bout her.”

Hershel nodded. “Unfortunately, that is true. Only Rick, Glenn, Carol and myself has had the pleasure of meeting her personally up until this point. She's a lovely woman. Had no problem that there wasn't anything to ease the pain when I had to stitch her side and she's more than willing to get up and start working to earn her keep. She won't be able to for at least another day or so since her side needs to heal up a bit first, but Carol and Glenn did good with bringing her back. She'll fit right in.”

“Good,” Daryl nodded. “She a good fighter?”

“From what I understand, she's been out on her own since the beginning. She's not dead yet, so I'd say she's alright,” Hershel replied, adjusting on his crutches.

“Alrigh', now enough 'bout her. Wha' did ya need me to do?”

Hershel gave him an encouraging pat on the back, confusing the archer. “You're going to be one of the very few people who gets to say they met the new girl for the next couple of days. I was hoping you could help her fix her bunk? One of the legs on the bunk broke and she's dead set on repairing it. She won't let me help because she keeps insisting I've done enough for her, so I told her I would send someone else to help. She'll be expecting you.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, parting ways with the older man. He walked over to the cell that Hershel had pointed towards and stopped at the doorway, hesitating to make his presence known.

You had your back turned towards the door, hunched over as you inspected the leg of the bunk. You weren't aware of the archer that stood a few feet behind you, engrossed entirely in your own thoughts. That was, until he spoke up behind you.

“Hey. Hershel said ya needed help?”

You froze at the voice, willing the supposed hallucination away. You slowly rose to your feet and turned, locking eyes with the one person you've been searching for since the world went to hell—your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon.

The moment Daryl locked eyes with you, a whirlwind of emotions flooded his being. Relief, love, happiness, wonder, sadness, confusion and so much more that he couldn't decipher. Although his first instinct was to wrap you in his arms and never let go of you again, he hesitated, refusing to believe you were real. He took a step back, his eyes wide as he looked at you.

You stared back at him with equal amounts of disbelief. You took a hesitant step forward. “Daryl?” you whispered. The man in front of you looked slightly different; a little bit older and his hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. The man in front of you was Daryl.

Daryl remained silent, his eyes locked on you as you continued to take agonizingly slow steps towards him. He watched as you stopped in front of him and hesitantly raised your hand, bringing it to rest on his cheek. Daryl instantly melted into your familiar soft touch, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Without another thought, he gently grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, tightly clinging to you as he pressed multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“Yer real,” he whispered, a laugh of amazement falling from his lips. “Yer real. Yer alive. Yer actually still alive.”

You laughed quietly against his chest as you held onto him tightly, never wanting to let go ever again. Your laughter soon turned into sobs, tears of relief and happiness falling from your eyes.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” you whispered through your tears, burying your face into his chest. “I thought you were dead, Dar.”

“'M here,” he whispered into your ear, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes. “'M alive. Yer alive. 'M never lettin' ya go ever again. 'M sorry I ever left tha' day in the first place.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I never should've asked you to cut Merle out of your life. He's your brother. It was unreasonable of me.”

“Nah, it wasn't,” he denied, placing another gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Ya were jus' lookin' out fer me. I never shoulda gotten mad at ya in the first place.”

“Let bygones be bygones?” you whispered against his chest.

Daryl chuckled before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

The two of you held onto each other for a couple of moments longer until you pulled back. Daryl was about to voice his protest until you pressed your lips against his in an urgent kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms settled on your waist, pulling you closer into him as he kissed you back. There was no lustful hunger behind the kiss—there was only love and longing, two broken parts finally reuniting and mending together as one.

Daryl pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “I missed ya so much,” he whispered, willing the lump in his throat to go away.

“I missed you too. More than you even know,” you replied, cupping Daryl's cheek with one of your hands. “But I found you. I finally found you.”

Daryl leaned into your touch before turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. However, he soon pulled away from you and strode over to your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“C'mon,” he said, taking your hand in his as he pulled you to walk beside him.

“Where are we going?” you questioned, falling into step beside the man you loved.

“There ain't no need fer ya to sleep in there. Yer gonna sleep with me in my cell,” Daryl said simply, pulling you along to his cell.

You giggled but said nothing, silently following him into his cell. When he placed your bags down on the floor, Daryl placed a soft kiss on your lips before stalking out of the cell.

“Where are you going?” you called after him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“'M gonna find tha' prick who objectified ya and teach him a lesson. Yer hot as fuck, yes, that much I can accept people sayin', but Ronnie implied he wanted to sleep with ya outrigh'. He's really gonna regret sayin' tha' in a few moments. Dun' even try to talk me outta it.”

“Hey, Dar?” you called after him, halting him in his tracks. “I love you.”

Daryl smiled at you. “I definitely love ya more.”

[honeybee-kins]

[siempre-bucky]

Holy Orange Bottles

each night I pray to you...

Druig x Fem!Reader

Summary: Druig could see her fading quickly. A bug bite. A fucking bug bite was taking away the one person he cared the most about. In an act of desperation, he takes her to an unlikely source.

WC:1.7k

Angst with happy ending ofc but add a little bit of drama

Warning: reader on the brink of death

A/N: Thank you Anon for requesting! I've been loving all the Taylor requests bc she's my favorite! I hope you like this!

It was just a bug bite. It was just supposed to be just a bug bite.

It happened on an ordinary hike, Y/N was taking photographs for a magazine she worked for in the States. Druig watched her cautiously from a few paces back, making sure no harm came to her while she worked. "I think I got all I need," she tells him over the roar of the waterfall in front of her. She moved aside a few strands of damp hair and made her way off the unsteady rocks.

Druig was always there to catch her, stretching out his flexed hand to help get her on solid ground. Y/N slightly jumps at the sudden notice of his presence. But soon relaxes with her hand in his.

As they started walking back towards the commune, a harsh sting on her shoulder sends pain up and down her back. She yelps and swats at her back to get the bug away from her. Druig turns around with concern on his face "Are you ok, my love?" he asks. After giving him a nod, Y/N winces and stops walking.

"Does it look bad?" She asks as she turns around, she saw no bug in her view. There was a small red bump on the center of her left shoulder blade, the fabric of her tank top almost touching it. It wasn't bad, probably just a mosquito. "Fucker snuck up on me," she complains, walking ahead of Druig.

Her lead slowly started to dwindle as they got closer to the commune, Druig was quickly catching up to her. He watched how her shoulders rose and fell quicker than normal. She loves this hike, he thought as he watched her take a pause, her hands resting on her hips "I think I need a small break," she panted, taking a seat on a large moss-covered stone. She had never taken a break on this hike before.

He told himself he wasn't concerned. Bug bites happened all the time in the Amazon. There was a remedy some of the older women had developed over the years. He sat behind her that night in bed, her back hunched over as Druig dipped his finger in the stone bowl full of green jelly.

It was cold to the touch, goosebumps appearing on her skin. The cool jelly soothed the stinging small round bump "Do you feel any better, my love?" he asks her gently, rubbing around the bite. She nods at him and releases a soft hum.

"Much better, I'm sure it'll go away by tomorrow."

It didn't. She felt woozy that morning, he could see it as she walked. Holding onto the railings like her life depended on it "I'm fine, Druig," she chuckled as he swooped in to catch her from falling on the dirt ground. His blue eyes caught a glimpse of the big bite. Scathing red and double in size he noted. "I'm going to lay down for a while, I'll come back out for dinner." She kissed him on the cheek and placed a loving hand on his shoulder before retreating back to their shared bed. Druig could see the delusion right in front of him.

The next morning the Eternal tried to remain optimistic, he laughed along with the people while he ate with them. His eyes glance up at Y/N who was finally coming out of their home, it was 1PM and she was hardly awake. The first thing he noticed was her skin, the once bright and soft skin was dull and lost all its color. A nervous punch to his stomach made him hitch his breath. Then she collapsed.

All that led him here, kneeling in front of a once locked chest in the corner of his closet. He dug through translucent orange medicine bottles, his eyes briefly registering the medicine names underneath the dim overhead light. Hands desperately clutching onto all the ones he thought needed for her. He collected them over some time, hoping he would never have to use them. He pressed them to his forehead, saying a silent prayer to anyone who would hear his thoughts. He had...just had to make sure she would survive this. He didn't know why her body was responding to the bite like this. There were so many questions he had but couldn't find the answer.

On a plate was the small cocktail of pills, he walked into their room with his eyes worriedly gazed upon her. Her skin was clammy and cold, her dull eyes looking back at him. "Thank you," she manages. A small, weak smile forms on her lips as her shaky hands take the plate. He climbs into bed next to her, draping his arm around her shoulders, watching to make sure she took them all. "What did I take?" she laughed.

"Antibiotics, you'll feel better tomorrow," he told her, his hand coming up to smooth out her unbrushed hair. Y/N leans against him, not telling him about the dull pain she felt in her shoulder. The soft touches from his fingers lulled her to sleep, finally able to rest.

Druig couldn't sleep that night, his body couldn't stop tossing and turning. Frustrated groans fill the air, his body finally turning to look at your peaceful frame. He drapes his arm around your body, pulling himself closer to his lovers side. His mind came up with the question: what am I going to do if she's not here? It was a question he thought once or twice about in their couple years together, but old age was always the conclusion, not some weird illness. His forehead found its way to the center of her back. She'd be fine in the morning. She had to be.

Once the sunlight poured into his room, his sleepy eyes fluttered open. He didn't move that entire night, his back still pressed against hers. He lifts his head off the pillow. Blurred vision finally starting to go back to normal "Good morning, Y/N," he yawns, "are you feeling better?" there was no response from her side of the bed.

He turns her over, pressing her shoulder into the mattress. Y/N's skin was starting to grey, lines that resembled those from a deep sleep started to appear on her cheeks "Y/N?" he questions, gently shaking her. Her eyes didn't open.

No. No. No! Druig cursed under his breath and hurriedly climbed on top of her. His hands grip her shoulders as he shakes her unconscious frame. Tears started to pour from his eyes, the tip of his nose turning red "Y/N! Y/N!" he screams at her, his veins appearing on his temples. He leans forward and presses his ear to the center of her chest. He focused hard not to confuse his rapid heartbeat for hers as he searched. But he heard it. Y/N was still with him. "It's going to be ok," he sobs into her chest, tears soaking the shirt that really belonged to him. "I'm going to get you back, you're not going to leave me like this!"

It took a lot of his power, but those golden eyes got him to his final destination. A small farmhouse in secluded South Dakota "Ajak!" He cries, the body of his love dangling in his arms. "Ajak!" He cries once more, his raspy voice was an octave higher and cracking like a schoolboy.

The older woman with flowing brown hair ran out the front door. Her brown eyes set on Druig and the woman in his arms "Druig?" She questions loudly from her door.

"Please! I need your help!" The desperate cries in his voice made her feel his urgency. Running up to him, she noticed his red, bloodshot eyes. "She got bit by something a couple days ago...she's dying!"

Ajak took the girl from his arms, telling him to follow her into the house that he hadn't stepped foot in for years. He ran ahead and cleared the kitchen table, her dishes falling and breaking on the wood floor. Ajak placed her on the table and got a good look "Deviants?" she whispered under her breath.

"Deviants?" he repeated. "No. It was a bug. We were on a hike. It would have killed us." Druig ran a nervous hand through his hair, leaning over Y/N. Ajak's eyes flickered between them, her brain trying to come up with a solution. "C-can you heal her Ajak?" he was desperate, leg tapping like an impatient child as he stared his former leader down.

"I'll try. Go wait outside," she instructs him. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be removed from her side, he would rather die with her than live in a world where their time was cut short. "Go. Druig."

Reluctantly he does. Sitting on the steps on the front porch for God knows how long. Half a cigarette hanging from his lips. It was a nasty habit that Y/N would scold him for. But it relieved a sliver of the stress built inside him. He took the burning cigarette in between his fingers, his other hand wiping his drying eyes.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this worn down," Ajak remarks as she steps outside. Druig quickly rises to his feet, eyes looking at her in desperation. She sticks her hands inside her blue denim jacket, leaning on one of the wood pillars. "She must be some girl," she smiles.

"Is she ok?" he asks weakly, fearing he might cry again. Ajak finally nods in his direction. A wave of relief rushes to his heart, he quickly moved past Ajak and back into the house.

Y/N sat on the table, her legs swinging over the edge. The color and luster to her eyes had returned, the lines on her skin gone. Druig let out a choked sob and ran to her at full speed, crashing into her with a strong hug. Her arms wrap around him, inhaling his cologne and the faint smell of smoke. "She fixed you," he whispers in almost disbelief, letting his fingers touch the smooth skin where the bump once was.

"Druig I don't remember anything," she tells him regretfully, pulling back from the embrace. Whatever it was it really scared the man who she had never seen so fearful and disheveled.

"Y-you got bit a-and you almost died," he stammers, his fingertips tracing along her jawline. She places her warm hands over his, bringing him in for a short kiss.

"I'm here now, my love, I wouldn't leave you so soon," he nodded at her calm reassurance. He was about to embrace her again when Ajak coughed to get their attention.

"I'm afraid something bad might be coming. Do not take her back to the Amazon, Druig. She must go back to the city."

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

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The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

[slutsofren]

surrender the night

*this is a companion piece to my series, Danger Days, but can be read as a standalone

summary: you and joel have been together for a while, no longer worrying about fireflies or about ellie, the three of you became pretty close-knit out on the road and now in jackson but joel is usually closed off with you today until he wants to show you how much he loves you while hunkering down from the rain.

cw: no y/n, intimate/soft smut, mild bratty reader, slight angst, light humor/teasing, established relationship and life in jackson, joel being emotional AND vulnerable, SARAH MENTION that needs a whole TW i swear

word count: 3,884

a/n: congrats to pedro on this role and welcome new fans to tlou!! <spoilers> tlou2 isnt entirely canon in my version bc our man survives abby and her bullshit so we can all be happy here; but check out my series following the first tlou game with slow burn and other fun tropes here on ao3!

read on ao3 here!

Bandit attacks were on the rise again, always spiking before winter starts and at the tail end of it. You had been pulling nearly nonstop shifts at the wall and scouting nearby. Joel noticed how tired you were getting and tried to convince Tommy and Maria to give you less time on rotation. You thanked him heavily for it but if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping those you loved safe.

The rifle was heavy in your hands, your thighs warmed by your signature dual handguns there, you were armed to the brim but it did nothing considering the visibility was poor. It was raining on and off since the two of you began your shift but as you neared the small town, it had gotten heavier as you got closer to the last stop on the scouting trail.

Beside you, Joel had been quiet nearly the entire time since the two of you left Jackson and each time you tried to ask him if he was okay, he shrugged you off. It wasn’t unusual for the man, he was a rather private person despite the many many months the two of you had been together.

The one thing that warned you something was wrong was a conversation the two of you had only last night. For the first time ever, Joel spoke of a memory between him and Sarah, the daughter he lost over twenty years ago, of how she would banter with him and keep him on his toes. He smiled while telling you a couple stories of her but fell into a tense silence afterwards that seeped well into today and you figure his silence has to do with it.

Your horses came to a stop in the garage of the safehouse as the two of you jumped down. “I’ll shut it,” you offered quietly as you lowered the garage door to keep the horses safe and warm away from the harsh chill of the winds and rain. Joel gave a grunt of confirmation and he opened the inside door to enter the house, shaking his head a bit to rid his hair of some of the dampness.

As the garage door shuttered gently to the ground, you turned to follow Joel up to the third floor of the safehouse and gave a firm pat against your horse as you walked by. Joel had already begun turning on the small lamps that were sparsely laid around the stairwell to make sure you didn’t trip. This was one of the few three story homes that were still viable despite how broken everything was inside. The walls still had some insulation but the dust and debris were stark reminders of everything that had been lost since the cordyceps virus took the world by storm. 

When you reached the landing, your stomach was in knots, Joel’s behavior wasn’t unusual per say but he was rarely like this with you on scout missions, often being more in the moment with you than his usual reserved self. Being outside of Jackson, the two of you had to communicate in order to stay alive, everybody did. It was the only means to survival but his behavior was beginning to worry you more and more.

You removed the rifle from your shoulder then leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, watching as Joel signed in both your names on the sheet on the desk that had been pulled in the room. He sighed heavily and turned to face you, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Jackson anytime soon with the rain.”

“You’re probably right.” You pushed off from the doorframe and shrugged off your backpack, reaching for the long-range radio. You shifted it in your hands before clicking it on.

“Base, this is Athena’s Mark, please be advised we are hunkering down at the last checkpoint. Rain is too heavy to travel. Over.”

After a couple moments passed, you heard the tell-tale sign of a response with static then a click before Maria’s voice rang out. “Athena’s Mark, your message has been received. Notify Base if there’s any sightings out there. Stay safe you two, over and out.”

You looked up from the radio in your hands and saw Joel leaning against the desk with his arms wrapped in front of his chest. He looked at you and you gave him a soft smile before fully entering the room and setting your weapons and backpack down beside the large bed that was still in rather good condition all these years later and sitting on it.

“Y’know you never told me why your code name was Athena’s Mark,” he asked from behind you, watching as you began to unlace your boots.

You smiled as you recalled the memories. “When I was still running with the Fireflies I would sneak over to the Humanities department and steal some of the abandoned books from the offices. One of the rooms belonged to a Greek historian and I found their book on mythology,” you explained without looking up. “By the time I arrived in Jackson, I still had a few of those books in my possession. One day Maria and I got drunk and she called me Athena as a joke but the name stuck with me on missions.”

You laid the unlaced boots on the floor and laid down in the bed, listening to the rain patter against the roof and windows, drowning out all the outside noise. “She said I looked like a goddess of war when I had blood on me, fighting to protect Jackson.” You threw a hand behind your head and stared at the ceiling before continuing. “If the world hadn’t gone to shit, I’d like to think that’s what I would have done with my life. Become a historian or something.”

“I think I would have liked to see you like that,” Joel said in his gruff voice. You smiled at his words.

“What would you have done?”

“I was a carpenter, and even wanted to start my own business. Work was shit to come by but it paid the bills.”

You smiled, remembering all of his wood carvings in the spare bedroom of his house. “If bills weren’t an issue back then, what would you have wanted to do,” you prompted instead.

“I wanted to be a singer but with Sarah and all,” he trails off. You remembered him admitting this once, forever ago but now the candor feels different because he said her name.

Sarah.

You sit up from the bed and look at him, the broad strong man he is, looks like he’s a million miles away. His eyes are unfocused and his face looks conflicted. You get up and take tentative steps towards your boyfriend. “Joel?”

He looks up at you and unfurls his arms from his chest, instead opening them up at you. You walk to him a bit more confidently and walk straight into his embrace as he wraps his arms around your frame. He buries his face into the crook of your neck while you encompass him and rest one of your hands on the nape of his neck, your fingers gently dancing in his dark hair.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you closer into him. “I think she would have liked you.”

You try to pull back a little to look into his eyes but his grip only tightens around you, refusing to let you budge. “I think I would have liked her too, Joel.”

For a man of few words, the ones he spoke have taken your heart by storm. The two of you have been together for a while but the intimacy between you has rarely been like this.

He stays like this for a few more minutes, composing himself. You play with his hair with one hand and the other draws random circles across his back. Silently telling him you’re there for him. After these moments pass, Joel pulls his head back from the crook of your neck to start leaving a trail of kisses there, his beard leaves a scratchy but familiar burn across your skin.

Without using words, he’s telling you how much he loves you, how much he cares, how much it pains him when you’re not together, and you bask in it. “Joel,” you whine as his kisses suddenly shift to small sucks and bites on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Come here,” he demands slowly, finally bringing his lips to yours.

As the two of you kiss, he tangles his fingers in your hair, his other hand kneading the flesh on your ass. Joel has you melting in his hands as your worries fade. You figure today was rough on him and you’re more than happy running away from the anxiety.

The two of you do this dance with each other's lips until he pushes off the desk, advancing to his full height towering over you. He doesn’t let you break the kiss instead he presses harder into you deepening it.

The more he wordlessly asks, the more you feel like you’re drowning in him, his scent, his touch.

Joel places both of his hands on your hips as he pushes you backwards, walking you to the bed. The backs of your knees hit it and you stumble a little but his sturdy warm hands keep you from falling down. He breaks the deep kiss the two of you were sharing, both just slightly out of breath but heavily disheveled. A shuddering intake of breath and he leans his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” you sigh against him. “Please.”

Just as you slightly beg, any worried thoughts you had were whisked away as he removed your denim jacket from your body. His large calloused hands worked their way back up to your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair, gently pulling you back so your neck was exposed.

He gently laid kisses up and down your jaw, taking sweet time and care with you.

Your hands drifted up his torso, unbuttoning his soaked red and black flannel. Once the last button popped, you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest, pushing both his flannel and brown coat off him.

A deep groan rises from Joel’s throat, “Easy now.”

He takes a step back and fingers at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. You rush a little and put your hands behind your back, undoing your bra. Joel watches you silently as you discard the article to the side of the bed where your shirt lay on the floor with his.

His hands return to your body, working themselves at your jeans and he pulls them down, gently easing your leg out of each pant leg. He’s being so gentle with you, being so vulnerable and soft.

You stand in front of him as he remains kneeling in front of you, still in the position he was when he removed your jeans. He leans forward and rests his head on your stomach and you feel his breath over your panties.

“May I,” he asks, fiddling with the elastic waistband.

Your fingers catch in his hair as he pulls back, looking you in the eye when you grant him permission, “Yes.”

His eyes study you as he tentatively pulls your panties down, letting them fall. He comes back against your skin, kissing from the tops of your thighs and makes his way upwards across your stomach, between the valley of your breast, your chest, and neck, before finally coming back and kissing you on the lips.

“Get on the bed for me, will you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, lost in this tender moment with your lover.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Joel fixes his stare on you, taking his time to unbutton his belt then jeans. His eyes trail over your body, watching as you begin to squirm under his watch.

He pushes forward and kneels on the bed before maneuvering himself to lean back against the headrest. He grabs your leg to swing over his thighs to make you straddle him but his hands stay at your waist, keeping you from fully sitting on his clothed cock by giving attention to your breasts, licking and biting gently as he did with your neck not moments before.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A giggle leaves you at his words aligned with feeling overstimulated by the way his mouth and beard felt on your skin. “Joel, please.”

“Settle down, you heathen,” he says between nips and kisses. You feel him smile across your skin as he pulls you down onto the sheets, coming back to your lips to kiss you more and more. His hands encompass your body, roaming up and down the valleys on your skin, completely enamored with you. 

“Make me,” you tease against his lips.

Joel takes this as a challenge and he sits up, leaving you prone against the pillows. He towers over you, his thick fingers dancing gently across your skin, making a winding trail down your body. “Please,” you begged softly.

Joel said nothing as he sank two of his rough fingers into you and laid down between your thighs to suck and lick at your clit. Your hands flew to his shaggy black hair, taking a sharp inhale at the sensations. Joel eats you out nervously, taking pride in the way you moan to the walls of the empty house. Your sharp intakes of breath get lost under the patter of rain against the roof and windows.

“I love you,” he says against your heat. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your breath is already stolen away at the way he fucks you with his mouth and fingers but you’re breathless by the way he admits his love for you. The vulnerability of it makes you come against his tongue.

“That’s my girl, that’s it.”

His approval and praise send you soaring but he doesn’t slow down his efforts, instead going faster. Before you could even come down from the blissful high of an orgasm, another tidal wave is rising again. “Joel, I’m coming again,” you whine.

“Come as many times as you want,”

He leaves another trail of kisses across your stomach as he makes his way back to kiss you on your lips. You can feel your wetness on him, taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into him. 

“Lay down, let me treat you,” you say in a low voice as you try to push Joel against the bed. He leans up and puts his hands on your wrists, stopping you.

“No, tonight is about you.”

“Wha-,” he cuts you off with another opened mouth kiss on your lips, he keeps kissing you down your neck to your left  arm, not stopping until he’s kissing your hand.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are,” he whispers against your palm. “The first time I saw you, I fell for you. You had your gun pointed right at me, coulda killed me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

He huffs, hot breath hitting your hand. “I sure as hell am too.”

He drops your hand and shifts on the bed, removing the last piece of cloth covering his erect cock, “I think I woulda let you toss my ass around that first day I laid eyes on you, if I’d known then what I know now.”

“You almost didn’t let me go with you, remember,” you tease.

“Would’ve been the biggest regret of my damn life, sweetheart.” He drops his boxers to the floor, not taking his eyes off you.

“Tell me again, Joel.”

He line’s himself up with you, “I’m glad I found you.” He gently thrusts only the head of his cock into you and pulls out. “I’m glad you never put up with my bullshit.” He repeats his movements but pushes a little more into your wet cunt. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Finally he pushes himself all the way in, eliciting a sharp whine from you. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Your lover pushes back your thighs, allowing him to fuck you deeply. His movements stir that insatiable beast inside you, constantly lingering for more and more pleasure.

He sinks harder and faster into you as his warm hands grasp your hips, his eyes trained on the way your soaked pusst takes him so deeply. He’s locked on the sight of the way the two of you are connected just as how you are mesmerized by watching him.

“Do you feel as good as I do, darlin’?”

You respond by squeezing around his cock, “You feel so good in me.”

It was like he got a second wind by the way he fucks you even harder than before. You throw your head back as you feel the familiar rumble in your abdomen and you squeeze your legs around him, not allowing him to pull out further. Joel surprises you by using two fingers to rub tight circles against your clit. 

You bite down on your lip to try and contain the coming moan but fail. He feels too good in you, on top of you. His scent invades your mind bringing you to the ultimate climax. Your head is tossed back and a throaty loud moan is released into the air by you.

“Joeljoeljoel,” you plead, coming again against him, your legs spread so far to allow him to penetrate you deeper. Your orgasm rolls through you like waves and your body lifts in response, searching for more, more, more. 

He continues to pound harshly into you, not swaying in pace. “You’re so beautiful when you come around me, feels heavenly too,” he moans above you. The hand he had tangled in your hair moves to your jaw, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as you sigh, coming down from your high.

Joel’s thrusts soon turn erratic and sloppy as he chases his own high, you hear a deep growl rise from his throat. “Fuck, shit,” he breathes, pulling out of you swiftly, pouring himself over your stomach.

You reach up and thread your fingers in his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. You praise, “Good boy.” 

Vulnerable, Joel laughs and sits up on his knees to look down at you. Basking in your afterglow with remnants of his love smeared across the expanse of your stomach that reflected in the soft glow from the lamps and setting sun. He fingers his own hair with both hands, sweeping his messy locks back. 

He gives you an indecipherable look that he hides by shifting off the bed and rummaging through his backpack insearch of a rag to clean you with. He returns and does his usual routine while you lie on the bed, feeling warm and safe.

He returns to the bed and you crawl on top of him, seeking to add his warmth to yours to fight away the rainy chill. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close. Refusing to let you move away.

Together, the both of you came down from your blissful highs, your breaths synchronizing into calm and slow inhales and exhales. You laid your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers along his chest drawing nonsensical designs. The two of you laid like that for a while, you listened as his headbeat fluctuated from steady to rapid and back as if he was working himself up. Just before you open your mouth to ask if he was alright, he took a sharp inhale.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts.

“Oh, no. Nothing good comes from you thinking,” you laugh, hoping to ease his mind.

Joel squeezes your hip and pulls you closer, “Hey now, none of that shit.” You laugh a little more at teasing him before he takes another sharp inhale as he continues. “As I was sayin’, I know this isn’t conventional, hell, none of this is conventional,” he gestures wildly in the air, “but I was wonderin’ if you’d do me some kind of honor and make me your husband.”

This knocks the breath out of you, more than the wonderful dick down he just gave you. You lean up and face him, trying to make eye contact but his stubbornness doesn’t let him take his gaze off of the ceiling.

“Joel, are you serious,” you ask.

He furrows his brow before letting go of your body and getting up from the bed. You’re about to start protesting when you see him reach for his own backpack and pull out a wooden box before he sits back on the bed and stares at it hard.

“Y’know I was married before. Back then. I never wanted to do it again, especially not in this world. But then I met you. That shit don’t compare to how much I love your ass. You’re smart, you keep this old man in check, and most of all,” he looks at you, “we don’t get to take life for granted any more. Not when every time we leave Jackson could mean we don’t make it back alive. I want to marry you in every meaningful way, even if you are a goddamn brat.”

As he says this, your eyes fill with tears and you sit up on the bed, facing him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He nods once, “What? You make me fuckin’ nervous.”

You smile wide and lay your hands on his, over the box. “I love you, Joel Miller, you stubborn old bastard. Now gimme the damn ring”

Joel lets out a sharp laugh at your words and lets a smile hang on his lips. He opens the box and hands it to you where you see a beautiful silver ring with a delicate floral design. A gasp leaves you as you take it in, how intricate and ornate it looks.

“Talked to the blacksmith and got it made for you especially,” he explains.

You take the ring from the box to admire it closer before Joel takes it from you and places it on your ring finger. “You had Gustavo make this for me?”

“I told him your favorite flowers and he did the rest.”

You’re too stunned to speak by his admission. He knew of your love and attachments to the old blacksmith which made this ring that much more beautiful in your eyes. You pull the elegant ring out of the box, treating it like it’s fragile before placing it on your finger.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you since you saved my damn life,” he admits. “But it wasn’t until last night when I told you about Sarah without feeling angry or sad when I knew it was time.”

His confession wells tears in your eyes again, his long since passed daughter was always a subject the two of you danced around, even his ex-wife. Him talking about this, about Sarah, it means he’s nearly ready to open up and it means the world to you.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach Ellie how to throw knives now?”

“Absolutely not, what the fuck?”

[rudysrings]

Someday Soon

A/N: So the blog I started for my atla writing isn’t showing up in the tags. big sad. i’ll just put them on my main i guess. guess i write for atla now oop. I’ll write for pretty much anybody bc I do be a simp for atla and lok. Also the title sucks bc this is something i just wrote when it was simping for zuko hours, and i just felt like posting.

Warnings: er angst and fluff and allusions to sex i guess? it’s pretty PG ngl...

this gif is super overused but don’t lie you love it : D ;)

Okie here we go!

You found yourself seeking out the banished prince, despite the Gaang’s instant rejection of him. It had been too long since you had seen him, spoken with him, touched him.

You surprisingly felt no anger anymore, only sorrow for what you had lost. You knew nothing would ease that pain other than the presence of the boy himself.

You were grateful to Toph for understanding, for showing you the way and leaving you to speak alone.

He was asleep when you found him. You were surprisingly unprepared for that outcome.

Unsure about waking him, you simply sat a few feet away in the cave, drawing your legs close to your chest as you shivered in the cold of the night. You must have been there for no more than a few moments when you felt Zuko pull you towards him. “Hey,” he greeted, pulling you into his warm embrace. You could tell that he had done so because he had seen you freezing half to death.

It was so easy, the two of you alone in that little cave, for you to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that the harsh history between you was simply a bad dream.

You’d never felt so weak as you did then, not even when you were imprisoned, beaten down and your very identity ripped away. Because even then, you had known good from evil. But now, you were at war with yourself, unable to draw the line with his amber eyes melting away every ounce of your defiance.

Zuko held you close, but didn’t make any sudden moves, both out of awareness of your fragile disposition and out of pure respect for you. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel obligated to do something you would regret. Not that you would ever be so easily manipulated by anyone, but as selfish as it was, he secretly hoped that he made you as vulnerable as you made him.

You released a breath, not meeting his eyes as you straddled him timidly, the blush clear on your cheeks and neck. You were too absorbed in yourself to notice the same flush present on him.

“I wish I could just wake up from this nightmare,” you whispered. “This nightmare where you’re the bad guy, and you’ve hurt me in every way you can, and we can never be the same again.”

Zuko didn’t know why you were sharing this with him, opening yourself up after all this time, but he sure wasn’t complaining; he greedily licked up any piece of yourself you gifted him with.

“You’d think it would be easy to hate you, but Zuko,” you finally looked up at him, taken slightly aback by the emotion in his eyes. This was hurting him as much as it was you. “I just can’t seem to let you go.”

Zuko let a tear fall, blinking quickly as he spoke, “I-I don’t want you to let me go. Please. Everyone else except you and Uncle have already given up on me...just when I’m finally figuring out my destiny. And after what I’ve done to Uncle, he must hate me. I don’t--I need--as selfish as it is, I need your forgiveness. I can never take back what I did to you. I regret it every day. I understand if-if you can’t--”

The sight of your prince carrying all this guilt, feeling so alone and pleading with you for your forgiveness touched something within you that you thought you had managed to bury deep within yourself. Surging forward, you quieted that voice you adored so much with a kiss, drawing an mmph! from Zuko.

But he didn’t miss a beat, instantly winding around you on instinct, his mouth sliding over yours in just the right way, his hot tongue reminding you just how much you loved doing this.

You pulled away abruptly, afraid you’d forget what you were going to say if you let yourself get lost in him.

He looked up at you in question, his lips red and beautifully swollen from your kisses. “I forgive you, Zuko.” You felt a piece shift into place in your own heart as you said those words, a weight relieving itself from your chest.

You felt Zuko’s entire body sag with relief, his eyes twinkling with emotion, his lips parted in disbelief. “Spirits, I’m falling all in you...all over again,” Zuko said, his hot breath tickling your face.

His words encouraged your next move. You wound your arms around his neck, sliding forward on his lap to where you were chest to chest.

It seemed that even the moon didn’t want to encroach on your intimate moment, the moonlight somehow fading away, the infamous bright gold of Zuko’s eyes the only thing you could see clearly in the darkness of the cave.

You leaned back into him, your mouths colliding again. Your hands began to wander, slipping beneath his robe, seeking out the familiar contours you loved so dearly.

As your fingers began untying the knot that held his robes together, Zuko tensed, feeling the moment change as your focus shifted.

Zuko pulled away, dropping his lips to your ear to whisper, “Hey, hey, hey, slow down, y/n.”

You immediately stopped, your hands drawing back into yourself. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Zuko. I wanted--and I thought you wanted--”

Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. He brought your forehead to his, his eye glittering with mischief as he reassured you. “Trust me, angel, with you, I always want to.”

You blushed, unable to help the joy that filled your smile at his flattery. “But then, why…?” You trailed off.

“Why am I torturing myself?” Zuko asked, his expression full of mirth.

You nodded, smiling at his sudden lightheartedness. You had a feeling it might have something to do with getting your forgiveness. It had truly lightened his soul.

“Because even though I really, really, really want to, and you need to trust me on that, if we’re ever going to get on the right path again, I doubt this is the right way to start off?” He asked, as if looking for your input, too.

Your shoulders dropped in realization. You smiled inwardly at his forethought; he must really care. Tears pricked your eyes. “You’re completely right, Zuko.”

You began to feel the weight of the emotional day you had had, pushing you down into Zuko’s chest as you felt the hot tears stream down your face, and you tried to stifle the noises escaping your mouth.

Zuko didn’t need to ask. He simply knew. You had always been good at reading each other, and Zuko knew you were bound to break sooner or later. While he admired your strength to no end, what really made Zuko fall in love with you was your ability to be vulnerable with him with such ease.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing you cry.

He held you tightly, his hands trembling as he tried his best to comfort you, his face buried in your sweet-smelling hair and his own tears slipping out of his tightly shut eyes. He wished he could just say the words. He loved you. He loved you like in all the magical stories his mother would read to him when he was small, like his Uncle had loved his late wife, like the moon loved the tide--he loved you. The words tore at his chest from the inside, but he kept them caged inside.

As the sun rose on the two of you, and your sobs turned into sniffles, Zuko pressed one more kiss to your quivering lips, somehow saying everything you needed to hear. He loved you. He wouldn’t say it just yet, but you knew. He had always loved you. The two of you always found each other in spite of the odds, and you had found each other once again. This time, Zuko was determined to keep you together; it was time he put you first. As he lay his head against the stone wall of the cave, holding you to his steady heartbeat, Zuko felt hopeful. “We’ll be okay, angel.” Someday soon.

[anonymous0writer]

I Love Him II JJ Maybank

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Request: Yes!

“song request: i luv him. by catie turner x jj maybank“

Warnings: Angst dude. angst. 

A/N: This was amazing to write lol. also it’s a tiny bit confusing bc it’s all different points in their relationship meshing into this one, so the times are confusing. 

But basically it’s just now, before and after. i guess. I put “Before” “After” “Now” before the text so y’all know :)

Tags: @jayjaymaebank @rudys-pankow @maaybanks@everydayimfangirling @outrbank @thelocalpogue @decap-quadrant @ahhireallydontknow @never-ever-too-many-fandoms@kylosleftbuttcheek @insanitysparkles @divcrdown @youfookendonut @dpaccione​ @outerbanksbro​  @jjs-housekeeping​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @traumaflavouredjuulpod @magnuolia @sarapage89 @emsma11 @bxbyyyjocelyn​ @teamnick​ @jjmbanks​ @thesurfingsnail @lulubutton34​ @obxsummer​ @katiaw2​ @poguecollins​ @notaninstagrammodel​ @danicarosaline​ @timmyswrld​ @gmwlover100​ @koufaxx @bellaguarneri​ @diverrdown​ @drewswannabegirl​ @lordsagittarius​ @drew-starkey​ @mahleeyuh​ @starkeymarkey​ @mcarignan @copper-boom​ @jessica-112​ @alternativehp​

(if your user is striked, that means i can’t tag you, message me and we can try to fix it!)

Song lyrics look like this

-Now

He's what I want But I'm not what he needs He needs to wake up and look in the mirror And like just what he sees

You stared at the boy in front of you, lip caught between your teeth as you bit it, your eyes giving away what you were feeling.

You felt like reaching out, so your fingertips could brush his skin and you felt the heat of his skin and made sure he was still breathing and safe. You needed to know the exact heat of his skin and feel the living boy, but you refrained, keeping your feelings on a tight leash. This was for him. And if you ruined that, shattered that moment, you could never forgive yourself. Yet you found your fingers twitching and a tear pricking your eyes. 

Your lips trembled, but you closed them together, letting the boy leave. Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks like waterfalls. Pushing them back you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to cry because you knew that if you started, you wouldn’t stop. And he didn’t need that. Didn’t need to hear your erratic, uncontrolled sobs and your heart break. Plus, this wasn’t about you. This was about him. All of this was for him. He needed to get better and you loved him too much to not get him help.

A sob tried to escape your lips, so you bit down on your lip so hard it drew blood. You didn’t even wince as the tangy flavor filled your mouth. You just watched his blonde head bob as he ducked under the doorway and his feet carried him away. The sobs were silent, but they racked your body, tearing your strength away slowly. 

You wanted him. Wanted to keep him safe and happy and love him. You wanted him more than anything, but you knew that you weren’t what he needed. And that broke you the most.

And it kills me That I have to leave To watch him go get better 'Cause I'd set myself on fire If it meant he'd come back after

The warm, embracing air did nothing to soothe or warm you. Your feet shifted against the gravel of the driveway, unable to keep still. Your heart ached, breaking in the tiny cavity in your ribs. Every fiber of your begin weeped. Screamed for you to run back to the blonde, wrap him in your arms and let him kiss you. To feel his lips work against yours, everything around you fading into a haze of nothing. 

But you need to leave. So you bit your lip, trying to keep the wave of emotions in your gut at bay. You needed to leave so he could heal and get better. So you gripped the door handle a little tighter and without a second thought, you ripped the door open. The cool seats slid against your thighs as you climbed in and you started the car, the engine rumbling to life as you stared blankly ahead. The car lurched as you pressed on the gas and you sped off, gravel spitting behind your tires. The car left the driveway and disappeared, you with it. 

Clean break. That’s what this was. You needed to leave the boy so he could heal and grow. And love himself. And it was better to rip off the band aid fast rather than painfully slow right?

You would leave him alone, let him heal in solitude and then hopefully, he’d come back to you. You prayed and hoped so much the words were almost empty in their meaning when you whispered them into the dark. 

As you turned onto a long road, the car moving smoothly, a sob slipped from your raw lips. Tears fell without warning, dripping down your cheek and dropping along your neck. You tasted the salt of your tears as they touched your lips. With a shaking hand, you clicked on the radio, music flooding the cabin of the car. You needed the music to drown out the sound of your weeping. Needed it to drown the sound of your broken heart and the roar of the world around you. 

But hope still fluttered in your chest like a caged bird. You hoped and prayed that he would come back. Back to you. Because, god, you needed him back.

Because I love him I love him That's why I'm letting him go I love him and I want him But we both need time to grow

“This is the right thing,” You spoke, your voice even except for the slight waver at the end. You swallowed your emotions and nodded, as if you needed to say the words to believe them. As if you said them enough- like you said your hopes- they would create a foundation. Become real and solid, and true. 

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, knowing you needed to look him in the eye for him to see that. To see the truth to your words. His cerulean eyes swam with tears, matching your own. His bruised hands gripped each other so hard they turned white and his jaw was clenched tightly. He was trying to keep it together, just like you. The similarity broke your heart. Soon, you’d be saying goodbye and praying he’d get better. 

Your lips tugged into a frown that seemed permanently etched on your face as your eyes found the scars and memories of a bad life littering his skin. His black eye, dark and fading into a deep purple along the edges. Cuts marring the soft skin, red and short, but stark and angry. The fading, almost gone bruises that were like patches on his skin, yellow and old, but with slight pressure still hurt. His face and skin were littered with the memories of a young kid flinching away from his father’s hand or wincing when he took too sharp of a breath because his ribs were still recovering.

“We,” You paused the words coming out of your throat sharp and jagged. “We need time. Time to heal and grow.” You closed your eyes, eyelashes resting on your cheek. “We- I need to let you go. So you can heal.”

The words sat heavy in the air until JJ took a big breath, his chest hitching and his eyes rapt on your face. “What does this mean for us?”

You knew what he was asking. So you gave a smile. As big as you could muster, eyes shining with sadness and lips widening. But the smile dropped and your hand darted forward to grip his own. Naturally, your fingers threaded with his, yours fitting into the divots of his and he squeezed your hand. 

“I still love you, J. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Your eyes met and everything dropped. The sounds around you, the soft crashing of the waves, the calls of the birds. The hum of other people laughing and chattering. The crunch of gravel under a tire and the squeal of cars as they rushed past. No sound seeped into your ears, and your surroundings faded away to nothing. It was just you and him. Eyes locked and hands locked. Souls locked. 

“I love you.”

-After

And if the world was kind I could make him stay It pains me to think of a girl Who gets to trace his veins I love him But it's better off this way

You lay in bed, legs tangled with the sheets, chest rising and falling softly and a big shirt hanging off your frame. However, the shirt wasn’t yours. It was his, and it still smells like him, sea salt and a hint of weed mixing in your senses. You had found the shirt tucked in the back of your dresser without a second to think about it, you slipped it over your naked body and pulled on underwear, sinking into your bed. You had meant to fall asleep hours ago, but he tormented you. 

Thoughts of his eyes and smile searing behind your eyes when you closed them. The sound of his laugh and the click of his tongue in your ears. The memory of his fingers trailing along your skin ghostly.

You stared at the ceiling, blinking against the dark. By now the dark was welcome, for you had stayed up till the dead of night and the rise of morning far too many times to be afraid by the blindfold it provided. You took a deep breath, hand on your chest moving with the rise and fall of your ribs. You gasped as you trailed your hands along the bare skin of your stomach that your shirt- his shirt- exposed. Goosebumps raised on your skin, brought on by the cold of your fingertips against your feverish skin. 

I bet she gets to trace his skin. The thought slipped past your defenses and had brought you to your knees. A broken, dry sob escaped your mouth and your hand fell flat against your hot skin. The noise was a strangled cry of desperation and pain. 

Tracing his skin and running her hands up and down his skin. His golden skin was so soft and smooth. His golden skin peppered with the occasional freckle.Freckles you hunted for, finger tips running along his skin, and when you found one, you attacked it with a kiss, making the boy beneath you huff a laugh. She gets to follow the crevices and plains of his chest with her fingers, like I did. She gets to kiss and explore his skin. She gets to please him and locks her fingers with him, where her fingers fit into the divot of his. He’d close his eyes as she giggles against his skin and kisses him, snuggling into his warmth.She gets to trace his veins and map his skin like the constellations in the sky. Constellations he taught her just like me, pointing them out with a soft, far away smile on his lips. 

But the thought that killed you the most?

She gets to love him.

-Before

We had the best time And he was all mine And I never wanna leave We'd stay up all night And when he drifts off I can't help but watch him sleep

You giggled and your fingers tighten in his luminous hair. You smiled down at the golden locks, running your hands slowly through them, twisting and curling them. The boy smiled, loving that he was in your grip. His speech flowed easily, coaxing laughs and comments from you. You two were cuddled on the couch, laughing and grinning like fools in love. Because you were fools in love. Madly in love. 

You two stayed like that, JJ laying between your legs and your fingers in his hair as you talked, for hours. Until the sun started peaking behind the edge of the horizon. But you were the only one awake, hands stalling in his blonde locks and eyes dropping to watch the boy in your arms sleep. His mouth was slightly agape, soft, even breathing filling and leaving his chest. You smiled at the sight, warmth and love blossoming in your chest as you watched the boy drift into a dream. That’s when you realized. Really realized. 

You loved him.

-Now

I love him I love him That's why I'm letting him go I love him and I want him But we both need time to grow

“Goodbye, JJ.” 

[scorlettimagines]

Eyes On Me: A Nick Scratch Imagine

Request from @qveenmikaelson​: Heyy So I’m Back Again 😂 Bc Honestly There’s Just Not Enough Nick On This App . But Could You Do A Nick x Reader Where He Like Stops Hanging Out With The Reader And Is Up Under Prudence More (Reader Doesn’t Get Along With Her & He Knows It) So As Pay Back The Reader Gets With Nicks Rival In The School Like Someone Equally As Popular & Cute . So Nick Gets Real Jealous And Eventually Confess His Love For The Reader . Possibly Around All The Lupercalia Events

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Lupercalia wasn’t your favourite time of the year; it never had been. But up until recently, your thoughts on it had changed, the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be paired up with some guy who only cared about getting into your pants allowing you to actually be excited for once.

Because this year, things had changed. This year, you had fallen in love with Nick Scratch.

You hadn’t told him of course, knowing that it would probably be the end of your friendship with him. But even though it was a secret, even though you had managed to keep your love for him to yourself, you still let yourself daydream about what would happen if you ended up with him on Lupercalia. Maybe it would be the start of something amazing.

Or maybe it would just be an awkward mess.

Either way, there was the possibility that you would be spending it with Nick Scratch, finding yourself among a group of witches who dreamt of the same thing. However, that was only up until now. Until he had started to ignore you, spending more and more time with Prudence Blackwood.

The whole thing infuriated you. Nick knew you didn’t get along with the witch, and it didn’t help that she was his ex. You had clearly done something to upset him, and as he wasn’t going to tell you anytime soon, having resorted to not even speaking to you, you decided to take matters into your own hands. As Lupercalia grew closer and closer, you came up with an idea that would make him notice you, whether he wanted to or not.

If there was one person who almost as popular as Nick, it was Caleb Shaw. With blue eyes and blonde hair, the witches and warlocks who accepted they weren’t going to bag Mr Scratch anytime soon often turned their attention to the Academy’s second most popular bachelor.

Said bachelor had been showing a lot of interest in you lately, earning scoffs from Nick who hated the guy more than anything.

So now you were going to play that to your advantage.

In truth, you hated Caleb just as much as Nick. He was too aware of his good lucks, too arrogant, and tended to play on people’s heartstrings way too much. At least Nick was polite when he declined people, telling you some time ago that when he fell for someone, he wanted it to last.

Caleb Shaw was just having fun at the expense of others. So while you got your own back on Nick, you were certain that you would get your own back on Shaw too. With Prudence and Nick in your eye line, you sauntered over to Caleb, your attempt at a sexy smile on your face.

“Hi Caleb.” He turned, a signature grin on his face and a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down. You peered over his shoulder, aware that Nick was watching, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Y/N. What can I do for you?”

You placed a hand on Caleb’s chest, mirroring the behaviour you had seen from Prudence as she’d flirted with Nick. You saw Nick’s nostrils flare, eyes narrowing in anger as you fell into conversation of Lupercalia with a man you definitely did not want to spend it with. You smiled, knowing that your plan was working, that Nick was annoyed.

Wait, was he jealous? Surely not, he only saw you as a friend. At least, you thought he did. Your heart started to beat ten times faster as you entertained the possibility that maybe Nicholas Scratch, the warlock you were in love with, might feel the same way. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You stood on your tip-toes, your hand moving to Caleb’s chest as you whispered in his ear. Nick couldn’t hear the words, but the action was enough. Your eyes widened as he stormed off, leaving Prudence standing there with her mouth open, brow furrowed in confusion.

Oh. Nick Scratch really was jealous.

You abandoned a slightly bewildered Caleb Shaw as you chased after Nick, suddenly feeling bad about what had occurred. He’d clearly teleported, and you eventually found him at Dorian’s, knowing him too well to expect anything else when he was upset.

“Hey, Scratch,” you tried the gentle approach, his dark eyes full of so much anger. Judging by the way he snapped, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Caleb Shaw? Seriously? Are you trying to hurt me?”

If there was one thing that you and Nick clashed over, it was your tempers, a fire blazing within both of you, waiting to be provoked. Something in you sparked, and everything you had been feeling over the past few weeks bubbled over onto the surface.

“Well, at least he actually acknowledges my presence. Unlike, oh I don’t know, you.”

Nick looked away from you, but you still saw the pain in his eyes.

“You know what, Y/N? You have a fun Lupercalia with him.”

“As long as you do the same with Prudence. You haven’t been able to keep your eyes off her.” You decided not to say what you really wanted, when your eyes should have been on me lingering on your tongue. Nick turned to face you then, anger replaced by confusion, his voice softening.

“Prudence? Is that what this is about? Y/N, I’m not spending Lupercalia with her.”

“Then why have you been spending so much time with her?”

“I’ve spent so much time being an asshole to her,” he stood up, brushing his hand through his hair, “I’ve been trying to put her off.”

“Oh,” you paused, processing it all, “But why have you been ignoring me?”

The mood changed then, slipping from the promise of a resolved friendship into something else, a secret about to be told, a treasure chest about to be unlocked. All when Nicholas Scratch took your hand, dark eyes lightening ever so slightly, a sad smile on his face.

“Because I was scared.”

Your heart continued to beat faster and faster as you remembered how he had looked when you flirted with Caleb, as you remembered how you thought he had been jealous. As you proceeded to get the confirmation you needed while he spoke.

“I was scared of the fact that I wanted to spend Lupercalia with you.”

“And what about now? Do you still want to spend it with me?”

Every fibre of your body was buzzing as Nick nodded, his hand still holding yours, the other reaching up and cupping your cheek, Dorian’s bar fading around you. You smiled at him, his own grin widening and you fought the urge to kiss him as you accepted, thinking it was better to save it for tomorrow, for when more would occur. You decided then that you would make sure you got paired up with him, with or without a little magical interference.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Scratch.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/L/N.”

Lupercalia wasn’t your favourite time of the year; it never had been. But recently, your thoughts on it had changed, the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be paired up with some guy who only cared about getting into your pants allowing you to actually be excited for once.

Because this year, things had changed. This year, you had fallen in love with Nick Scratch, and he had fallen in love with you.

NICK SCRATCH MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

[acdeaky]

lovin’ you, hatin’ you, wantin’ you

warning: fluff, angst

note: happy 800 @versdan ! not me (creating two storylines for one idea and only writing the one with the happy ending bc i’m a sucker for love), wrong bitch. i’m so so incredibly sorry for not posting for like a month! i've been busy with work and i’ve really missed writing, so i’m hoping i can do a bit more (at some point) and get more work out for you guys to read :))

word count: 1.9k

THEN

the field was soft and light that morning. the wheat had barely begun to grow and only touched your mid-calf, but it still itches whenever you passed it. the oranges and yellows in the sky made the mornings better. the fresh, crisp air of the open space made the mornings better. gwilym made the mornings better.

and he was there, just a few feet in front of you, guiding you through the wheat field, making a path for you. often, he glanced back, watching as you trudged and trekked over the terrain.

this morning, specifically, it was tough. the lack of a downpour in the late spring weather had caused warm nights and dry days, even drier mud which you almost tripped over everyday. the passage through the field was just a small consequence of having the best view of the mornings, and gwil; you’d keep him with you wherever you went.

the lake was already glistening when you made it to the opening. like always, gwil waited for you before stepping over the hill, offering you his hand - which you gladly accepted - for support. your other hand wrapped around his bicep as you made your way up and over the hill, finding your nestling spot easily enough after so many times.

and the sky was orange, and yellow, and all shades of happiness that you could think of. it reflected off of the lake and across the scenery, covering the trees and grass with colour.

without his knowledge, you always snuck a glance at gwilym. his light brown hair always fluttered in the wind, making what was usually a neat look, a disheveled one.

the sun looked good on him in the morning.

after years of seeing him like this, after coming to this spot almost every weekend of every year for ten years, it never got old; he only seemed to get better every year.

NOW

it was raining. a typical instance for london in the autumn. your usual outing on a friday night was hastly changed to a night in at yours. as always, gwilym brought the food and you the drinks. after he arrived, drenched down to the bone in water, his coat was hung up to dry, his sweater was changed into one that was permenantly at yours and both of you were settled on the sofa.

an age old film was playing in the background as you ate and later cleared away from dinner. it wasn’t long before boxes were thrown away and your places were taken on the sofa. gwil’s back was pressed against the back of the sofa, with your body tucked into his side as one of his hands idly drew patterns on your skin.

as the night grew older, you changed and went through a few episodes of a joint-favourite tv show and your eyes slowly began to close, leaving you asleep on gwil’s shoulder. almost your entire body was cradled into his side, your body turning subconsciously in your sleep to the welcoming warmth of him.

the next morning, you found yourself in your bed sheets, tucked up and away from the patter of rain from outside. it seemed the storm barely let up, keeping the weather steady throughout the night. only a few inches beside you, gwil was still in his slumber, the steady rise and fall of his body telling you he wouldn’t be awake for a while.

the urge to stay next to his warmth was strong, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to do that; it would be too much to add to a definition. a definition of your relationship that was most definitely not, but also was most definitely, defined.

so, instead, you pulled yourself away from what could be - once again - and began brewing some coffee and making breakfast, something completely undefinable.

THEN

the late summer evenings were always your favourite. it could be nine o’clock, but the sun would still be hovering in the sky, painting it with the most gorgeous shades of pink and yellow as the heat of the day had settled and remained, requiring only a thin hoodie to shield yourself from the natural coolness of the night air.

it was only yourself and gwil out at the moment, the others having retreated back into the house to either sleep or grab a drink. neither of you had realised that you were alone, only being interested in each other and your conversation at the time.

gwil was sat straight on the long sofa, his knees knocking into yours often as he swung his legs side to side. you were sat curled up, your body facing gwil and the others - being on the end allowed that - with your knees only ever centimetres away from him.

throughout the night, even before your friends began to leave, you two only seemed interested in each other, having little giggles and whispers to one another while the others conversed together.

during the few days you’d been away for the last couple of weeks of the summer before returning to university, your friends had placed bets on when something - anything - would happen between you and gwil. they kept it hidden, not letting anything slip of what they were up to.

nothing happened, though. you spent the rest of your time away as friends, having your little moments together several times a day.

it wasn’t until the sun had completely set and the pinks and yellows had faded into blues and blacks, with hints of purple, that you and gwil retreated back inside. the fire was left to burn out and the mess of the evening was left until morning.

NOW

with typical london weather, it was pouring. the storm had been growing slowly over the past hour or so and now showed no signs of stopping. the weather had perfectly captured your mood over the past few days; the consequence of ignoring gwilym in turn of sparing your own feelings.

but that would end soon. he was outside your door, his face flushed and cheeks warm, a coat, matching gloves and scarf, haphazardly thrown on, his knuckles rapping at the door. it pulled you from yourself, the TV’s job at drowning out the world with white noise had failed.

you barley even registered that he said your name. it came as a sweet whisper, not even making its way to you, rather past you, and through into your apartment. uninvited, which he was. you had thought the minimal messages and short responses had told him what you wanted to say. but he was here and he was-

“can i come in?” he asked, taking your blank expression and the ignoring of his first word as your continued ignoring of him. you could only nod, moving to the side a little to allow him room to get through the door, closing and locking it quickly after.

gwil had begun to pull of his gloves and scarf, his coat drenched in water. he left it over the back of one of your chairs, hoping by the time he left it would be drier, whenever that may be.

you watched as his methodically made himself comfortable, as he had done many times before. except, this time, he didn’t pour himself and drink or take his usual seat, he remained standing, his body stiff and hostile.

who to speak first, you thought. there were the differences; gwil had arrived at your apartment, but you had been disregarding his presence for the last few days, so it was debatable. and yet, it seemed gwil was in no mood to speak first, so you had too.

“gwil-”

“no,” he started, “please don’t start this bullshit on not being ready to talk, because at this rate i’ll be dead before you finally tell me anything.”

sparing your feelings meant ignoring gwil in hopes of forgetting how to love him so you could be friends again. but, in the short time, the distance had made you feel deeply for him. the disappearance of him during your daily, and weekly, activities you do together was noticeable and you really didn’t want to leave it any longer.

but you also didn’t want to be left heartbroken. so you did what you did, and now, you regret the very idea of it.

“i just don’t know how i’m feeling, okay?” you felt small. even in your house, his presence was so large, so overbearing, you felt like you didn’t belong, like you were the intruder.

there had been many times where you tried. it had been something unspoken between you two for years and you wished, with your entire heart and soul, that you could just finish being the coward and own up to how you feel. yet, your heart refused to work, refused to be compatible with your head and pushed the only person you’ve truly loved.

gwil sighed, hearing those words for what could have been the hundredth time; he’d lost count. but he refused to get angry, refused to be hurt and upset over something you can barely help. “just,,, let me know so I can stop second guessing whatever is going on between us, okay?”

it was soft, not at all what you thought it to be. paired with the way you can only imagine he’s feeling, that should have been a lot harsher, more strident. but that wasn’t gwil, and that wasn’t the way he was with you.

the next few minutes consisted of harsh glares, glancing away and silence which could be cut with a knife. it wasn’t pleasant. yet, you could think of nothing to say.

pained and desperate to end this, you crossed the space between you, so that you stood in front of him, trying to get him to see that you don’t want an argument. your feelings for him are here and there, but most certainly, there. you’d rather keep gwilym than let him go, as pitiful as it sounds. the preference of keeping him in the knowledge that he feels for you like you do him is too strong to let him go as a result of your childish exploits.

so you tell him, more show him. you’ve never felt your touch to be so soft before you held his face, cupping his cheeks into the palm of your hands while your thumbs lightly stroked the outgrown beard that littered his face. gwil hadn’t even registered your touch, thinking it was his imagination and that you hadn’t, after the days previous, just touched his with such softness and kindness.

but you had, and you leaned up towards him, his height being an extreme disadvantage in instigating a kiss. yet, you reached, allowing your lips to rest a top of his with the upmost gentleness.

you felt twelve again, running through the fields in the early morning, your hand barely touching gwil’s as his wide stride took him further away from you. you felt like you were back at that lake, the early morning sun causing the ripples to glisten as the soft pinks and purples kisses the scenery around you.

you felt nineteen again, sat among friends as you laughed together, your body being only inches from gwilym’s, so close that you could feel the rise and fall of his delicate breaths, and his knees as they knocked into your own. you felt the warmth of him and the fire and the remainder of the sun, setting, leaving the world once again with a reminder of purples and blues.

you felt whole and where you were supposed to be.

TAGLIST: @shes-over-bored @i-barely-go-on-online​ @sohoneyspreadyourwings @brian-maybe-not @deakysbabybooty​ @1001-yellow-daffodils​ @retromusicsalad @hardcoredisneynerd @painkiller80​ @goldhoran @scarecrowmax​ @mebeatlized @seesiderendezvous @alright-mrfahrenheit @someone-get-a-medic @miamideacon @chlobo6 @teenagepeterpan @spacedustmazzello @deakysgurl @forever-rogue @xcdelilahxc @keepsdrawings​ @igotsuckedintothevoid @kill4hqueen​ @supersonicfreddie @laedymoon​ @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​ @warriorteam1924 @painandpleasure86 @boomerangbassist @mamaskillerqueen​ @bhxrdy

[kpopfromtheblock]

a/n ⇾  i know it’s not what you all were expecting but i hope you enjoy regardless. sorry for being away so long. i think i’m back now lol... thank you all so much for reading and for all your love and support! ✨

THERE WILL NOT BE A PART 2 TO THIS, PLS DO NOT ASK.

LIFE WITH BANGTAN | knj + myg + jhs

008

genre ⇾ smut, fluff + comedy

pairing ⇾ bts x fem reader, yoongi x reader, namjoon x reader, hoseok x reader

summary ⇾ you don’t usually get invited to the studio when your boyfriends are working so you know something is definitely up when Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok ask you to stop by bc they need your help...

warning ⇾ it’s  s m u t  so; polygamous relationship, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, overstimulation, threesome, voyeurism, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation + usual warnings: cringy-ness and swearing

words ⇾ 6k 

I DID MY BEST TO PROOF READ THIS, SORRY IF THERE ARE STILL SOME GRAMMAR MISTAKES! 

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You ring the doorbell to Yoongi’s Genius Lab and wait patiently.

 After hearing a few electronic beeping sounds, the door is being pulled open. You are happy to see a pair of bright eyes and a heart shaped mouth, forming a smile at you.

“Hi Hobi,” You greet him and stand on your toes to reach his lips for a peck. “Hi Angel, thanks for coming!” He says after kissing you back and stepping aside so you can step in.

Once you enter the room, your eyes land on Namjoon, whose arms are already stretched out, waiting to receive a hug from you. You giggle at how cute he is. “Hi Joonie,” You say as you step into his arms. He waste no time wrapping his arms around your waist and you wrap yours around his head, softly holding him to your chest as you stroke your fingers through the strands of hair at the back of his head.

Namjoon closes his eyes and enjoys the soothing feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It’s only been a few days since you’ve seen him but he always misses you dearly when you’re apart.

Still wrapped in Joon’s arms, your eyes meet the side of on Yoongi’s face.

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth as he focuses on the computer screen in front of him. He hasn’t turned to see you since you entered the studio which isn’t unusual. 

Most people would take offense to him not greeting them when they arrive but you know Yoongi well enough by now to know that that’s just the way he is.

Usually when he’s focused on his music, he has little to no time to pay attention to anything else.

“Hi Yoongs,” You finally say, just wanting to let him know you’re there. “Hi Kitten.” He responds, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

“He’s been like that since we got here earlier.” Namjoon mumbles to you and you nodded understandably. You unwrapped yourself from Joon and walk over to where Hoseok is sitting on the couch. You find your place on the plush seat next to him. He drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and you snuggle up into his side.

“So what goes on?… Why did you guys tell me to come here?” You asks, mindlessly playing with Hoseok’s hand. You use the tip of your finger to trace the skin over each bulging vein.

You never thought yourself to be a person who is attracted to someone’s hands but as mentioned before, a lot has changed since you met the boys...

“We just wanted to see you.” Namjoon speaks up and you have to raise an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

‘I just saw you a few days ago.’ You think to yourself.


“Ok, not that I don’t want to see you guys too but y’all never really invite to the studio.” You say crossing your arms over your chest. “So excuse me if I don’t believe that you told me to come over just because you missed me...” You add in disbelief.

“I always invite you over.” Hoseok protest you, moving his hand down to wrap securely around your waist.

“Yes, I know Hobi but these two,” You say pointing between Namjoon and Yoongi. “Never want me around.” You say jokingly with a pout forming on your lips. “Lies, you tell.” Namjoon argues and you giggle. 

“There’s a reason why I don’t invite you here when I’m working and you know that...” Yoongi says, finally turning around in his chair to face you.

You take a few seconds to take in his appearance. He’s dressed in all black... One of your biggest weaknesses.

A beanie on his head, a hoodie, some sweatpants and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers on his feet to finish off the look.

Although he looks good enough to eat, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he is exhausted. You almost want to scold him because you know he’s been staring at the computer screen all day, probably hasn’t even eaten or taken a break, but you refrain from doing so as you know it would be pointless…

He’s going to do what he wants, especially when it comes to his music, even if it means working himself tirelessly...

“Why do I always tell you that you can’t come here while I’m working?” Yoongi asks again, getting you out of your thoughts. He looks at you expectingly.

“Because, I’ll be a DiStRaCtIoN.” You say in a mocking tone while holding your fingers up to put air quotes around the word. Yoongi can’t help be chuckle at your antics. “Bingo.” He confirms before swiveling back around in his chair.

“Well I for one,” Hoseok starts, gathering the attention of you and Namjoon. “Love when you come visit me Angel.” He says, theres a hint of mischief in his voice and you know exactly why.

“Yeah because her visits to your studio always ends with her mouth around your cock.” Namjoon apparently knows why too…

You bit back a smile and hold your hands up to your cheek as they start to warm up from embarrassment. “I won’t deny that that is true but it’s not the only reason why I like when she comes around…” Hobi informs him. “I mean that’s a big factor but not the only reason.” He says, and you blush furiously before hiding your face in his chest.

“Cute.” Namjoon coos, beaming over at you.

He thinks you’re the most adorable when you’re flustered, as do the other boys.

You  know you should be used to these types of conversations with your boyfriend by now and you know they’re even more detailed when you’re not around but for some reason they still make you blush like a little school girl… You can’t help it.

“Any who,” You say as remove your face from Hoseok’s chest. “Why am I here?” You ask, getting back on topic.

“We need your help with something.” Yoongi informs you, eyes still glued to his computer. “Something like?” You ask curiously.

“A song." Namjoon tells you.

“You need my help? With a song?” If you were confused before, you are even more so now. 

Why would the guys ask for your help with a song… It’s not like you’re music expert or anything. Yes, you understand the basics... You know what it is and you enjoy it but anything beyond that? Nope.

“Yeah we want you to listen to something we’ve been working on.” Hoseok explains. “We got the beat down but we feel like it could be better.” He continues.

“It’s missing something.” Namjoon voices.

You nod your head, letting them know you understand what they’re asking of you. They just want me to listen and give your input. That doesn’t sound too hard…

You suddenly perk up in your seat when you realize this is probably a song that no one else has heard yet. You’ll be the first to listen to it… You feel a sense of pride swelling in your chest knowing they respect your opinion enough to let you listen to one of their unreleased songs.

“Okay, I don’t know how much help I’ll be but I’ll take a listen.”

“Nice!” Hobi says enthusiastically. 

Soon after the word leaves his mouth, Yoongi hits a button on his keypad and a beat starts to pour through the speakers in the studio. 

Yoongi swirls back around in the chair to face the rest of you.

The beat starts off slow. It is definitely giving R&B vibes. It’s very… sensual and different from the usual style of music they do. 

You bob your head as the tempo picks up just a bit.

You don’t noticed that they boys are watching you intently… You are too immersed in what you’re hearing to pay attention to anything else.

You continue bobbing your head to the rhythm. So far so good. You really like it and just from what you hear, you already know whatever lyrics the boys decide add later, will make the song ten times better.

But you do agree, there is definitely something missing. You’re not sure what but, there could be more, like Namjoon mentioned.

“What do you think?” Yoongi asks after the beat fades out. “I love it.” You say immediately. “I love all your other music but this is different…” You explain. “It smooth... It flows nicely... It’s more sexy?” You try not to cringe at the use of the word sexy but you couldn’t think of a better word to express what you mean. 

“Thats what we were going for.” Hoseok says proudly beside you. You beam up at him, happy because he is happy. 

“Although it’s already good, I do understand what you mean about it missing something…”

“Right? There could be more.” Namjoon suggest and you nod.

“Which is why we thought about you.” Hoseok confesses and you turn your head to look at him. 

“Me? Why would you think about me?” You ask in confusion. 


“We thought your voice would be a nice contribution...” Yoongi says.

“Ha!” You laugh out loud, throwing your head back. Namjoon chuckles with you and Hobi smiles. “You’re joking right?” You ask with amusement in your voice.

“Nope, not at all.” Yoongi say without a hint of humor in his.

You look at the three of them, your mouth falls open slightly, in both shock and disbelief.

“The three of you are aware of the fact that I cannot sing right? Like can’t hold a note to save my life... I’m worse than Joon in the shower.” Yoongi’s eyes scrunch closed and his shoulders visibly start to shake as he laughs at your statement. Namjoon on the other hand did not find it funny. “Hey! I can sing.” He says, glaring at you. “I know you can baby but in the shower? Not so much.” You retort. You feel a slight pinch on your thigh which causes you to yelp softly. You look over at Hoseok, knowing he’s the one who inflicted the pain on you. “Don’t be mean.” He warns you, with an amused smile on his face. “I’m not!” You defend yourself. “Joon knows I’m only kidding, right baby?” You say before getting up from the couch to walk over to Namjoon. You plant yourself in his lap and he instantly wraps his arms around you.

If he was mad at you before, there’s no sign of him being mad now.

“Anyways,” Yoongi speaks up. “We weren’t asking you to sing.” He informs you.

“You weren’t?” You say a puzzled look on your face.

“Mm, mm.” Yoongi hums and shakes his head.

“Then what?” You ask.

“We were hopping to use you voice for something else...” Hoseok mentions. You look at him, curiosity taking over you features.

“Okay...” You trail off, wanting him to give you a proper explanation.

“Something different...” Namjoon chimes in, his voice has suddenly dropped an octave and if you weren’t so perplexed about what the boys needed your voice for, you probably would’ve felt the tingle you always feel in your abdomen, every time he uses that voice on you.

“Why does it feel like you guys are beating around the bush...”

Yoongi sighs. “Cause they are...” He says. He spins his chair around to face you for third time tonight. “We want you to moan for the song.” Yoongi blurts out and had you been drinking anything, you would’ve spat it out in shock, right in front of him.

“W-what?” You stuttered out.

You’re not sure if you heard Yoongi correctly, he does have a tendency to mumble when he speaks sometimes... 

Maybe he didn’t actually say what you thought he did.

“We’d like to record you moaning for the song.” Yoongi says.

“Ok, so you did say what I thought you said.” You mumble to yourself. You sit up in your seat, placing your hands neatly in your lap. “Lemme get this straight,” You start, looking around the room to see each of their facial expression as you talk. “You all called me over here because you want to record the sound of me moaning… For your song?” You question. Even saying it out loud, it sounds fucking ridiculous. This has to be a joke. 

“Correct.” Yoongi confirms nonchalantly while nodding his head.

You clear your throat… “I’m flattered really, I am but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Your voice is filled with worry. “Why not?” Without turning to face him, you can almost hear the pout that you know is on Hobi’s face and you hate to reject them but you can’t help but think of the fans.

You're sure ARMY would get suspicious if the boys released a song with some random girl moaning in the background. Releasing a song like that would be basically be like ratting yourself out because, knowing the fans - they’d just dig and dig until they find what they’re looking for. You’ve done an exceptional job a keeping things under wraps so far... No need to break the streak now.

"What about the fans?" You finally voice your concern. "Hm?” He hums cutely. “Why do you ask Baby girl?" Namjoon asks, tilting his head to the side like a puppy would if they were curious. "Well, I'm sure ARMY would have a lot to say after hearing a girl moaning in the background of one of your songs." You stated causing Yoongi to chuckle.

"We've already thought about that and have come up with a solution."

"Enlighten me..."

"First of all, your voice would be subtle in the background.” Yoongi begins explaining.“We'd be rapping over it, so it wouldn't be picked up right away.” He continues.

“We'll blend it into the beat so it sounds more like an instrument rather than anything else.” Namjoon chimes in.

“And if they do catch it-...” You cut him off, “Which they will… You forgot that your fandom is exceptionally sharp and quick witted.” You state the obvious. “If they do catch it…” Hoseok picks up from where Yoongi has left off. “We’ll just tell them that we’ve taken Jungkook’s voice and pitched it up. They’ll have a field day with that.” He seems enthusiastic about the situation.

“So why don’t you just do that instead… Use Kookie’s voice” You suggest, wondering why they’d wanted to take a risk by using yours. “We don’t want too use Kookie’s voice… We want to use yours.” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Isn’t it too risky?” The weariness in your tone makes Namjoon raise an eyebrow at you. 
“You really don’t want to do this huh?” He asks, a hint of sorrow in his voice. 

You know it must sound like you are coming up with every excuse in the book to not have your moan recorded but you just want to make sure the boys have thoroughly thought this through and will have no regrets later on.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to… I’m definitely intrigued but I just don’t want this to cause any problems. I don’t want ARMY to be upset or anything…” You say solemnly.

“You’re so considerate, its cute but you don’t have to worry. We know what you’re doing.” Namjoon assures you.

“It’ll be fun Angel… The song will be even more special this way and only the three of us and the kids will know about this.”

“The other boys are on board with this?”

“Jungkook was the one who said to tell ARMY it’s his voice.” Yoongi notifies you.

“Hmm….” You hum to yourself. Thinking for a few seconds about whether or not this would actually be a good idea.

“So what do you say?” Namjoon is impatiently waiting for a response.

A few beats of silence pass before you finally give in. “Okay.” You say shrugging your shoulders. You trust your boys and if they say it’s going to be fine then it’s going to be fine.

“That’s our girl. Come on, let’s go.” Namjoon says standing up.

Fuck, you didn’t think they’d want to start immediately. “Right now?” You ask, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Of course, why waste time.” Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Hoseok stands too and holds his hand out for you. You put your hand in his and he leads you to the recording booth… Namjoon follows closely behind.

Yoongi stays seated, messing around with all the little buttons and knobs on the sound equipment. "Aren't you coming my love?" You ask, directing your attention to him. He shakes his head. "I have to stay here, make sure everything is running smoothly but don't fret Kitten, I'll be watching you." He assures you.

A pout falls on your lips. You want him to be in there with you too...

As you step into the booth, you are greeted by an array of plush blankets and pillows covering the center of the floor.

It seems like the boys had been anticipating you agreeing to do this for them, already making arrangements to keep you as comfortable as possible during the recording process. “How did you guys know I’d say yes?” You ask, turning around to face Joon and Yoongi. “Cause’ we know you and you’d do anything for us.” Yoongi’s voice fills the room you’re in, even though he’s on the opposite side of the glass.

You’re not sure how recording booths work but you suppose he can hear everything that is and will soon take place in the room.

You just nodded in agreement at his statement. He’s one hundred percent correct about that... You’d do anything for them.

Hoseok gets down on the floor, sitting comfortably on the plush blankets. He spreads his legs open for you. “Come sit Angel,” He instructs you and you spring into action, getting down on the floor to sit in between Hoseok’s legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You lightly lean back against him, not wanting to put too much of your weight on him in fear that you might hurt his back because of the position he is in.

“Comfortable?” He asks against your ear and you nod your head, rubbing your hands over the softness of the blanket you’re sitting on.

“Nervous?” Namjoon inquires next, squatting down so that he can meet your gaze. Your eyes suddenly drift down to the thickness of his thighs...

To be honest, you noticed them as soon as you came into the studio… The way they look in the black shorts he’s wearing, how thick they’ve gotten and the way the muscles in them beginning to bulge a bit whenever he flexes them, even more so now with new position he’s taken on.

Oh how you’d love to have his thighs in between your own right now. The thought of you rubbing your core on his muscular thigh sends a delicious shiver down spine. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop the whimper that is at the back of your throat.

Namjoon notices this and a smirk forms on his lips. He knows one of your favorite things about him is his thighs and he knows it drives you insane when he wears shorts but he does it anyways to get a reaction out of you.

You finally snatch your eyes away from his lower half to look up at him. He’s smirking at you...

You’ve been caught staring... Again.

“Huh?” You ask, hoping he’d repeat whatever it was that he asked you. “I said are you nervous?” He asks again. “Oh... Uh, a little bit.” You say truthfully, looking down at your hands. Namjoon reaches out and grabs hold of your them to stop you from nervously fiddling with them. “Don’t be baby girl.” He tries to assure you. “Yeah, it’s just us... And don’t we always take care of you?” Hobi adds, kissing your bare shoulder. “I know you guys will... I’m not worried about that... Just the whole idea of being record is...” Your voice trails off. “Is what?” You hear Yoongi’s voice again. You look over to see him standing up with his hands on his hips, staring at you through the glass window. “What if I sound weird…” You say shyly which causes the men around you to laugh. “Not possible baby girl. You make sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard and I’d really like to hear them now if you don’t mind.” Namjoon tells you and you feel your face and body heat up with arousal at his words. 

“Okay...” You say softly.

Suddenly the lights in the recording booth are being dimmed down to set the mood. You assume it’s Yoongi’s doing. “Just relax, okay?” Hoseok comforts you, by wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Whenever you guys are ready.” Yoongi encourages you all.

Hoseok is quick to pepper kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder and neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, always loving the feeling of his mouth on you. “Mmm.” He hums contently. “You always smell so good.” He compliments you and your face heats up for the hundredth time tonight. “Thank you?” You respond softly, not sure of what else to say. 

Hobi chuckles at how adorable you are.

Your eyes start to flutter open and closed as the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on your neck cause a warmth to spread between your legs. You can feel your heat getting wetter by the minute... It’s becoming a bit uncomfortable and you’re itching to get out of the leggings you’re in.

Namjoon is now on his knees in front of you. He brings his hand forward to brush the back of it across the side of your face. “Our beautiful girl.” He whispers and you smile, leaning into his touch.

Your heart feels like it might explode from the affection and attention you’re receiving from your boys. In times like this, you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you are actually in a relationship with seven amazing men who adore you and worship the ground you walk on.... 

You of all people?

‘How did I get so lucky?’ You think.

Namjoon leans forward until your faces are only a few inches apart. His breath is fanning over your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles sweetly. You respond by leaning forward, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you so that you can press your lips against his full ones. Namjoon can’t hold back the smirk forming on his lips as the two of you begin molding your mouths together, all the while Hoseok is still attacking your neck, leaving a beautiful array of lust induced bruises on your skin.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist to place them against your thighs. He grips them softly, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Any little touch counts at this point.

When your lips part for a brief second, Joon takes the opportunity to pull your plump bottom lip between his teeth. He nibbles softly on it then sucks it into his mouth before letting it spring back into place.

You almost whine at the lost of Joon’s lips from yours. You want more, you always want more. You lift your hands up to grab hold of the strings on his hoodie, pulling him closer to you with as much force as you can. You smash your lips against his frantically, eager to taste more of him. He groans against your mouth and you waste no time slipping your tongue in. 

The taste of his mouth is familar yet so sweet. It swallows you whole and makes your cunt tingle with anticipation. If you could spend the rest of your life making out with Kim Namjoon, you do it. 

“She’s wearing too much clothes.” The impatient tone of Yoongi’s voice catches you off guard. You pull away from Joon to give your attention to Yoongi. His eyes are burning into you, so much so that you can feel an electric shock pulse through you just from his gaze.

You wish he were in the room with the rest of you.

“Is that so Angel? Should we take these off?” Hoseok says as he pulls on the hem of your shirt. “And these.” Namjoon hooks his fingers in the band of your leggings, teasingly pulling at them.

“Please.” You say in needy breath, not sure if you can take much more of how slow things are progressing.

You just want them to play with your pussy already.

“Always so polite.” Joon smirks at you and your clit throbs instantly at the sound of his voice.

You need these panties off, immediately.

“Arms up Angel.” Hoseok instructs you and you do as you’re told, sitting up straight and lifting your arms up for him.

Hobi hurriedly takes your shirt off, exposing the ugly heather grey sports bra you’re wearing. You suddenly feel self conscious, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Uh uh uh.” Yoongi tsk at you. “Don’t cover yourself up Kitten. I wanna see you.” He commands.

“If I had known…” You moan out as Hobi nibbles on your earlobe. “That coming here, would end with me being half naked…. I would’ve worn something prettier.” You try to make an excuse for yourself, thinking that they wouldn’t be happy with your appearance.

Hoseok laughs against your skin. “Oh Angel.” He says against your skin. “You’re pretty in everything…” He informs you.

“It also doesn’t matter what you’re wearing,” Namjoon says from in front of you. “It’s all coming off anyways.” He starts to tug your leggings and panties down in one go, causing you to lift your hips off the blanket.

When the material is completely off your body, he tosses it behind him. You hear it hit the floor with a soft thud.

Namjoon’s eyes fall on to your wet center. Your lips are glistening with your arousal and in Namjoon’s eyes, you are the most appetizing thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, she’s dripping.” Namjoon thinks out loud.

“God, I bet.” Hoseok growls, just the thought of how wet you are is making his pants feel a lot tighter.

“Fuck.” Yoongi groans at the sight of you.

“Let’s give Hyung a show, yea?” Hoseok mumbles in your ear for just the two of you to hear. “Yes,” The word is strained as it leaves your mouth.

“Spread her open for me Hobi.” Namjoon instructs the man behind you.

“My pleasure.” He starts. “I can’t wait to get my fingers wet…” He kisses the side of your head before sliding his hands in between your legs, his index finger slipping in between your folds. You throw your head back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re so soft and warm.” He compliments you. His finger glides easily against your harden nub. You lift your hips up off the floor, wanting to feel more friction against your clit. “So needy.” He says teasingly.

“I said spread her, not play with her.” Namjoon hisses, laying down on his stomach, positioning himself comfortably between your thighs. He kisses a trail up from your knee too the middle of your thigh.

“Sorry Joon, I couldn’t help it.” Hoseok confesses as he hooks his hands under your thighs, spreading you open wider.

Namjoon and Yoongi now have a full view of your glorious cunt. He watches in amazement as your hole clenches around nothing. His dick twitches in his pants at the sight.

You’re so pink and pretty and swollen for them and he can’t wait to taste you.

Namjoon goes back to peppering open mouth kisses on your inner high. He’s leaving a scorching trail with his lips on your skin, getting closer to your core... You think he’s finally going to give you what you want but he switches his attention over to the right thigh before he gets to your most needy part. 

“No more teasing... Please.” You beg as he nibbles on your skin. “Someone’s impatient.” Hoseok mocks, followed by a devious smirk from Namjoon between your legs.

He grips your knees, using them the pull you a little closer to him. Your back slides further down the front Hoseok’s body. You can now feel his thick, hard cock pressed against the middle of your back. You want so desperately to take care of it for him, but the thought flies out of your mind the minute Namjoon licks stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. “Oh fuck,” You moan out instantly, back arching against Hoseok. 

He removes one hand from underneath your thigh, sliding up your side to caress your skin. He slips his hand under the band of your sports to grab the hold of your bare breast, gripping it softly before kneading the flesh as best as he can within the confinements of the material.

Namjoon on the other end is licking into to you repeatedly, the grit of his tongue gliding in between your folds is causing a string of soft moans to escape your lips.

It feels so good but of course it’s not enough for you. You put your hands on his head and grip at his hair. “More.” You breath out. “What was that Angel?” Hoseok asks, being the only one to have heard you... Or so you thought. “She wants more.” Yoongi informs his members. “More what?” Namjoon speaks against your wet center. The sounds of his voice vibrating against you, making your hips buck forward. “Please, suck my clit.” You beg him, not caring how weak and pathetic you sound at the moment.

“Ah,” Namjoon says in realization. “Patience Baby girl, I was getting there.” He assures you and you almost let out a groan because patience is something you don’t have enough of right now but Yoongi’s voice stops you from doing so...

“You guys aren’t doing your best tonight.” He teases the other boys. “If I were in there, Kitten would’ve been on her second orgasm by now.” Yoongi says smugly.

You don’t have to look over to him to know there’s a cocky grin on his face.

Namjoon growls at Yoongi’s words before diving mouth first into your pussy. He pays special attention to your clit, lapping his tongue around it. You throw your head back in pleasure, pulling at Namjoon’s hair.

‘Yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for.’

“Fu-uck yes! Right there Joonie,” You moan out loudly. “Right here?” He responds, mouth wrapped snuggly around your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

You begin panting, the more he sucks on you. You’re chest heaving and your mind spiraling at the pleasure building inside of you.

Yoongi’s words must’ve also lit fire underneath Hoseok with the way he is frantically pulling your bra up over your breast, freeing them from the god forsaken cage that was your sport bra.

Both his hands come down to cup your perky round breast in his palms. He began rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. You whimper out at the feeling. 

There is so much going on that you’re sure you will not last long.

You hadn’t realized but you’ve been lifting your hips up off the floor to meet Joon’s mouth. “You’re so eager Kitten.” Yoongi confirms from where he’s sat.

At this point you were a moaning uncontrollably, whimpering weakly between the two men, panting their names back and forth.

Namjoon was making a mess of both you and his mouth. He pulled away from you, letting out a ragged breath in the process. His lips glazed are over with your arousal, breath fanning heavily over your swollen clit.

“God, you taste amazing. You always taste so amazing.” He compliments you. His words causing your pussy clench around nothing

He brings his hand up, taking two fingers to run up and down between your lips. The tip of his fingers brush against you sensitive bud. You breath out, the sound of your moan getting caught in your throat. “That’s it baby. Nice a loud for me.” Yoongi encourages you.

“You’re doing so well.” Hoseok praises. You want to respond to him but Namjoon sliding his fingers into your tight hole causes you to lose your train of thought. “Oh my god.” You whimper, your eyes screw shut. “How are so tight?” Namjoon questions you before latching his mouth back on to your clit.

He plunges fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy, mixed in with your moan and ragged breathing fill the room.

“Fuck” You hear Yoongi groan, you take a chance and glance at him... Your mouth falls open at the view. His head is thrown back against his chair, his neck and adams apple is on full display... The way is bobs as he swallows does something to you. You can’t see anything past his waist but it doesn’t take rocket science to know that the up and down movement of his arm, means that he is pumping the flesh of his cock between his palm. The sight of Yoongi is enough to push you closer to your climax.

“Yoongi,” You moan out his name, his head snaps up to look at you and he smirks when he realizes he’s been caught. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you Kitten.” He informs you, his voice is so desperate and needy that you almost want to run to him and drop to your needs before him.

You swear you were about to beg Yoongi to let you suck his dick but Namjoon begins making out with your clit as his fingers pump relentlessly inside of you. “Come on Baby Girl.” Namjoon encourages. “Please cum for me. I want you to cum around my fingers, please.” He begs as he curls his fingers up, moving them against a certain sensitive spot inside you. “You’ve been doing so well Angel.” Hoseok tells you. “Making such pretty noises for us.” He adds.

The pressure you feel on your abdomen is heavy... Something finally snaps inside of you after building up for the past 5 minutes, you can feel your orgasm consume you. It feels like being submerged under a pool of pleasure. 

Your body shakes in Hoseok’s arms, all the while Namjoon is still giving you his all, mouth and fingers still on and in you. You begin pushing his head away from your core, “I-I can’t...” You nearly scream out. “One more.” It’s Yoongi’s voice again, he is pumping feverishly against his cock, his breathing is staggered and his words are strained. 

“You can give us one more Angel.” Hoseok’s voice is so sweet, yet so sinful in your ear and you can’t decide which side of him you like more at the moment.

Namjoon is up on his knees now, steadying himself with his fingers still in you. He pumps them in and out of you and places his thumb on your clit, pressing down hard. You yelp and buck your hips, feeling another orgasm approaching. 

You didn’t even have enough time to recover from the first one. “Joonie,” You whine out his name, ready to beg him to stop. The overstimulation is way too much that tears start to prickle your eyes. “Gimme one more Baby, just one.” He says, fingers pumping mercilessly.

Hoseok puts his fingers under your chin and turns your head towards his. His lips crash down on yours as a way to distract you and it works for a bit when he slips his tongue into your mouth and sucks on your bottom lip but then you hear Yoongi panting and grunting from the opposite side of the glass. Your pussy clenches tightly around Namjoon’s fingers at the sound. “That’s it Baby girl.” Namjoon speaks lowly, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you.

You gasps against Hoseok’s mouth as you feel a familiar warmth roll over inside you. Your mouth falls open but the sounds is caught in your throat, as your orgasms washes over you for the second time. You eyes roll back into your head for a brief second before you hear Yoongi’s voice again... “Look at me.” He growls. He selfishly wants your attention as he is also about to come undone in his hands. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, giving Yoongi the eye contact he asked for. 

He grunts and groans as he cums, making sounds you are all too familiar with as you have been the cause of them many times. 

Namjoon watches you ride out the rest of your orgasm, cumming all over his fingers, palm and the blanket. He smirks, seeing your arousal drip down your thighs.

You look so pretty like this, completely lost in lusts, covered in your sticky, sweet substance and flushed beyond belief.

He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss.

“You are amazing.” Hoseok whispers in your hair, placing multiple kisses to the top of your head. He brings his hand up to wipe the sweat off your forehead. You skin feels warm under his palm. “I’m proud of you Baby girl.” You smile tiredly at Namjoon. “Did you get it Yoongs?” You ask curiously and Yoongi chuckles in the same tired manner. “Oh yea, I definitely got it,” Yoongi confirms and your smile grows a little bit wider.

“I hope you guys invite me to the studio more often.” You say after finally catching your breath. This causes your boyfriends to laugh out loud. Hoseok wraps his arms securely around you and sways side to side. “You’re always invited.” He tells you and you hum contently.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Namjoon says before popping his fingers into his mouth. He nonchalantly sucks your arousal off them while standing up to retrieve your leggings. “What about the three of you?” You say, eyes traveling to the tent in Joon’s pants. You feel bad that you hadn’t been able to touch or pleasure them the whole entire time. You wanted to return the favor. 

“Oh don’t worry Kitten.” Yoongi tells you.

“We’re gonna clean up then we’re taking you back home.” There is an insanely smug look on his face, you’re not too sure how what is going on in his mind but you would certainly love to find out. “We’ll need a bed for what we want to do to you next.” He adds. Your cunt throbs again at his dirty words...

‘Oh fuck...’

[bts-fantasy]

Would You Still Love Me The Same

New Beginning

Pairing: Taehyung/Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

Previous — Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold.

Everything around me felt cold as I stared into the mirror on the wall looking at my pale face. Blankly I examined it noticing the little things that had changed ever since I ended up in this cell. The dark circles underneath my eyes were evidence of many sleepless nights, my skin was as pale as snow and my eyes stared coldly into the mirror without showing any emotions. I felt empty not knowing what to think of when I stared at myself. As the days passed by I’d stopped pitying myself and being sad because there was nothing I could change about the situation and so why would I keep opening up the wounds. One thing for sure, I didn‘t like what I was seeing, I hated it even. The face I was looking at disgusted me and I turned away letting out a deep sigh.

„You‘re so handsome, Tae.“

Y/N smiled up at me cupping my cheeks with both of her hands. Being with her always felt like being on a roller coaster because I could never tell what to expect. She was fearless and unpredictable and every time I tried to understand her she’d surprise me again. Somehow it had turned to one of my daily habits to study her behavior because I wanted to know what was really going on inside of her pretty mind. I wanted to know her like no one else.

Showing affection and opening up about her feelings were never her strongest trait so it warmed my heart to hear her blurt out those words randomly.

She turned around so she could look right up at me as her head rested on my lap. I was playing with her soft hair mindlessly as I fully focused on her beautiful eyes trying to understand the reason behind the sudden statement.

I could read her like an open book but if I truly understood what I was reading was a completely different story. So I stared at her for a while lost in my own thoughts trying to find the right words to say.

„I love you.“

The words just left my mouth before I could even think about it but I didn‘t regret it one second as I kept staring at her surprised face. She certainly didn‘t expect me to confess my feelings for the first time in the middle of the night underneath the stars but I found there was no better place than right then and there.

„Y/N, I love you and only you. You have shown me what love truly meant and when I‘m with you everything makes sense to me. I wish I could grow old with you...“

I watched her lips curve up into a smile already feeling like I was betraying her because I couldn‘t bring myself up to tell her the whole truth. The truth about the monster I really was. I couldn‘t do it when she looked at me like I was her whole world.

„I love you too, Tae.“

I wished to hear her say those three words to me again. I wished to hear her say anything. I missed her sweet voice, her laugh, her everything.

Months passed by and the void I thought would disappear with time only kept growing bigger and bigger. The thoughts of her haunting me every night in my sleep showing me how happy she was without me. It was so awful that I had to take pills to get enough sleep.

One year passed by and the food was still as tasteless as ever and the mirror kept showing me the same pale face again and again. But I had become numb to the pain which was a good sign, at least I thought so. The nightmares of her started to fade away and her face started to get blurry as I failed to remember the details with each day.

Two years passed by and I had finally found an inmate with whom I could have a decent conversation with. His name was Yoongi and we both got along very well since we‘d dealt with similar problems. We were both not so keen on befriending the other prisoners who were all a little insane but in the end, we weren‘t really normal either.

Months after months and the day I was hoping for came closer and closer and I kept counting every single one of them until I could finally escape this hell hole.

Yoongi and I had planned to open a bar in his hometown and I had agreed gladly. I wanted to have a fresh start somewhere far away from all the things that kept reminding me of my past.

***

„Mr. Kim Taehyung?“

I shot up from my cell bed anxiously waiting for the officer to give me the sign. With a curt nod, he told me to follow him. He led me to a small office where several officers were sitting across a big table looking up at me as soon as I entered the room. I stared at each one of them and then at the documents spread across the table.

„I guess you already know what this is about, Mr. Kim?“, one of them spoke with a deep voice watching him intently. He leaned forward pointing at the documents with his raised brows. None of the officers showed any emotions so neither did I but internally I was feeling like I was about to explode. I simply couldn‘t believe that the day had finally come but I nodded anyway trying to conceal my emotions in front of them.

„Good. Then please sign here, here and here.“ The officer handed me the papers and I signed them obediently but not before reading everything carefully. After this, I would finally be a free man again without any exceptions and I couldn‘t wait to leave the four walls I had been so sick of seeing over and over again.

It didn‘t take that long and soon I was walking towards the exit on my own feeling everything at once. The numbness and the pain was covered with joy and hope. I reached out for the doorknob and pressed it down finally stepping out into the bright sunlight with a smile on my face.

This was my new beginning.

Masterlist

I‘m back with another chapter!! Honestly took me a long time to figure out the plot and everything bc I wasn‘t really satisfied with it but I guess we‘re back in this😝 at least I think so🧐 so bear with me. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this let me know what you think and who you ship Y/N with.

I‘m really curious🥺👉🏽👈🏽

Thanks for reading💜

[hxseok-honee]

brighter than heaven, darker than hell drabble | the first death

masterlist

a/n: oh god this isn’t even the whole backstory, im still writing the collection of their most memorable moments s m f h, but this shit was lengthy and also the most important bc this was their transition from human to demon - anyway i hope yall like it! and yes the date was intentional thanks 

_______________________________________________

October 31st, 1904

“Miss Y/l/n, if you could please refrain from sneaking out during lessons to visit the boys’ classrooms, that would be lovely. No boy is going to consider you a suitable lady if you keep doing these things.” Y/n smiled politely at her teacher, allowing herself to imagine that she had actually smashed his head into his desk instead.

“With all due respect, sir, I didn’t just sneak off. That scum Jeon Jungkook was spreading rumors about me, so I was simply dealing with the situation.” She caught the glimmer of disdain that ran through his eyes, wondering for a moment if she was that bad at hiding her hatred for other people.

“People spread rumors for a reason, Miss Y/l/n. Maybe you should take your seat and look inward to find the faults that lead to these rumors.” Rage boiled inside her, reaching levels that even she was unaware were possible. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, bringing her closer to the teacher as her hands curled into fists. She must have looked truly wild in that moment, considering the shock that passed over the man’s face. Luckily, he was spared when she caught the sound of the bell chiming softly outside the schoolhouse.

Taking just a second to regain control and shaking off her unexpected lack of it today, Y/n turned on her heel, pushing past the other girls in her class to grab her bag and exit the room angrily. She could hear them whispering as she marched out of the building, following her as she headed in the direction of her home. The only good thing about the soft voices was the way they intensified when he was around. She was always ready for him, never surprised by his presence.

Noticing the way they just now intensified, she turned without hesitation and was met with the sight of him heading her way, frustration clear on his face. He stopped mere inches from her face, bending slightly to meet her equally annoyed gaze.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but if you ever come into my classroom like a little whore begging for attention and humiliate me in front of my peers again, I will actually consider killing you.” Sick of the endless threats and games they had been playing for almost fifteen years now, Y/n stepped up to him without blinking.

“You want to kill me, Jeon? Then kill me.” It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t fazed by her challenge that surprised her. It was the way a wave of excitement passed through his eyes. She recognized that excitement- it was the same thrill she felt when she was about to do something that no one would approve of. It was followed by an equally familiar blank stare, completely devoid of emotion. He stepped away from her slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd that was forming before looking back into her eyes.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

-

She was waiting for him when he arrived that night, dressed all in black and approaching her home swiftly. There was a blunt object in his hand, and she couldn’t help but expose her location with the condescending laugh that escaped her. She waited until his eyes found hers to speak, stepping out from the shadows to point at the item in his hand.

“Did you plan on killing me with that? A bit messy, don’t you think?” He stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “As much as I’d love to have actually been surprised by you for once in my life, I can’t have you coming into my home like that. I might hate my parents, but they have always cared for me, and to die in their space is just disrespectful in my opinion.” She had turned her head to the side by that point, giving him the opening he needed to finally act on the years of rage and hatred that had built up. Discarding the weapon entirely, he had his fingers wrapped around her throat as soon as she was within arms reach.

Shoving her violently back into the tree behind her, he held her there, hands squeezing tighter and tighter the more he felt her breath leaving her. A shiver of joy passed through his spine as he realized he had complete control over her life in that moment. He almost lost himself in it. The only thing keeping him from moving forward was the faint thought in the back of his mind, wondering why she hadn’t fought back yet.

No, she was just smiling at him, smiling as she faded from existence. It was honestly unsettling, just as she knew it would be. She knew he would hesitate at some point- he wasn’t strong enough to follow through unless he snapped completely. She knew she had her moment when his eyes left hers for less than half a second, flickering down to watch his hands, a single moment of doubt passing through him.

Taking advantage of the microsecond granted to her, she brought her knee up and shoved it harshly into his abdomen. When his fingers left her throat as he bent over with a cough, she grabbed hold of his hair and, stepping away from her home and further into the forest behind her, she used nothing but her weight to throw him forward and down the hill in front of them. Following closely behind, she straddled him as he lay crumpled on the ground, bringing her fists down heavily on his face while he tried to fight back.

It was in that moment that they realized simultaneously that neither of them would be making it through this night. She wasn’t going to stop with a simple beating, and he wasn’t just going to let her beat him to death. They both realized it at the same time and, without even pausing to think twice, they accepted their fates.

Bringing her hands down on Jungkook even harder than before, she was hardly fazed when he managed to break through her attack and grab hold of her head firmly. Anchoring himself to her, he brought his own head up to slam it into her face, smiling slightly when blood started flowing from her nose and onto his clothes. Grabbing the front of his jacket, Y/n threw her body to the side, effectively sending them rolling down another hill and further into the forest. The sound of rushing water hit her ears as they came to a stop and she tried to reorient herself from all the spinning. Jungkook used that time to glance up and search for the river that was clearly close by. Locating it in the dark, he pushed her off him and rose to his feet, threading his fingers through the ends of her long hair and yanking her behind him as he made his way to the water.

Laughing when she started screaming at the agony of being dragged through the dirt by her hair, he stopped when he reached the water. Taking a second to note that it was much deeper than he had expected, he was unprepared for the way Y/n reached up and dragged her nails down the length of his arm, carving bloody scratches into the skin there. With a cry of pain and anger, he fell to his knees beside her, giving her a chance to tackle him, sending them both into the river without a second thought.

Now under the cover of both the darkness of the night and the muddiness of the water, they were forced to rely on nothing but instinct to finish what they had started. Neither of them was trying to even survive at this point- they were both just too stubborn to die first. It turns out it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Neither of them realized that the river ended just over 5 miles away from where they had fallen in. They both would actually manage to survive for those 5 miles, but they certainly wouldn’t survive being simultaneously thrown off a cliff that met shallow water and jagged rocks at the bottom. It was in that moment that they succumbed to the black holes of violence and hatred that had resided in them since birth, fighting and dying together for the first time in what would be many years to come.