#wheeze. true shes pretty

[chronosbled]

{ Because of @hakusins, I now feel like properly expanding upon (female)Dickson's DoL variation after talking to her a little. I had the basics of an idea for Dickson, yes... her name is still Dickson because I don't like any female names I come up with for her and she will still go by the nickname Dick to others, but now after listening to a bunch of music and doing icons, I actively have a deeper idea for her. }

Basic Idea (that I came up with talking to @stestylius-arts): Dickson comes from a rich family where it's mainly just her and her grandfather. Said grandfather is a piece of shit though and does shady business in the city of DoL, also expecting her to do the same at some point and take up his company. But she's not really into doing bad shit just because. She'll do it for important things or just because of something she deems important to her. She's somewhat mentally unstable, but taking her medication keeps her from freaking out on others. Somewhat timid and has perfect grades.

Deepened Idea: Dickson comes from a very large rich family, but lives with her grandfather, guardian and half-cousin. Said grandfather is a piece of shit and does shady business in the city of DoL, also expecting her to do the same at some point and take up the company — said shady shit being human trafficking, black market trade, human experimentation, organ hunting, illegal drug production and sales, kidnapping, assassination, prostitution, and more. Instead of Dickson's grandfather or guardian being in charge of the dirty work, Dickson is the one who handles everything. Due to the way she was raised, Dickson has no problem getting her hands dirty whether it's slicing someone open and harvesting their organs or sleeping with rivals for information and killing them afterwards, everything is free gain to her. Additionally, she serves as a scientist within her grandfather's company and a makeshift doctor. She's extremely mentally unstable, but retains a perfectly normal reputation within the city of DoL, leading many to believe she is a compassionate person. She retains perfect grades at school and appears to be extremely friendly, but be warned, making friends with Dickson doesn't always end well for all those involved. Due to never experiencing any type of kindness or compassion in her life, she is prone to falling head over heels for those that try their best to look out for her — resulting in her to develop obsessive and possessive mannerisms towards her target of affection, often following them around without them knowing or bestowing them with constant gifts — but surely she has nothing to do with the sudden disappearances of those who are malicious towards you, right? There's no way Dickson could ever be a serial killer... right?

[tonycries]

FEVERRR?!

Synopsis. Oh no! Getting hit with a séx technique gave him a fever - babyféver.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx cursed technique (he’s affected), PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, bréeding, cúmplay, matíng presses, clan leader!Gojo, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, manhandIing, marathons, maIe squírting, overstím, dúmbifícation, best friend!Choso, proposals, marking, phéromones, HÉATS, true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s second mouth, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Skibidi alpha Tony is baaaack (and ovuIating.)

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - No running!

That pesky, low-grade curse he happened to encounter on a gig today? Tch, Toji Fushiguro didn’t even break a sweat before finishing it off. Didn’t even flinch at its weak cursed technique, didn’t- didn’t even…

-didn’t even make it to your bedroom.

“You’re lucky.” A pained wheeze spits from Toji’s clenched canines as soon as his hips bully your own into the soft carpet of your doorway. And his clammy core sticks feverishly against your back - burning hot, desperate. He’s inhaling your honeyed fragrance and stuttering- “Y-you’re lucky you’re lucky you’re lucky I didn’t- oh.”

Your husband jolts once he’s catching the hazy sight of you mindlessly crawling away, a rugged snicker leaving him as he claws a massive palm on top of your scalp to draaaag you right back down.

Slurp! goes the way his round, cherry-red circumference circles your sloppy entrance, and you’re whining over your shoulder. “T-Toooji–! What’s gotten into you t-today?”

“Y-you’re about to find out, ma.”

“What do you…” 

That question on the tip of your dampened tongue didn’t even have a chance to formulate, before you’re gathering up every ounce of strength in your body to meet Toji’s jaded stare and- oh.

Oh, it hits you.

You were fucked. 

Oh-so-very vulgarly fucked, he’s ramming his painfully aching length just mere sultry inches past your saturated folds and it’s enough to leave you dizzy. The swollen spheroid of his crownhead scraping your walls rawly open, Toji’s shivering above you.

Sharp jaw bitten at the tight resistance of your elastic hole. Sounding fucked out of his mind– “Feel that?” You’re gasping when one of his palms travel halfway down your tummy, searching for that familiar nudge of his stout cockhead. “Yeah- feel me all inside? You’re luck- ngh- you’re lucky. Sooooo fucking lucky-” 

Was…you could feel your slobbering pussylips grow ever-wetter, glossing out a slick coating that glues to his sagging hilt in a ring. Was the Toji Fushiguro pussydrunk right now? Already? 

With the calloused ends of his fat digits clasping ‘round your throat, he’s reeling you to him like some cute toy. Drinking in your every piping shrill, kissing, gnawing- “L-lucky I didn’t catch ya right then and there, doll.”

And maybe Toji was just so big that it rendered you stupid.

Because with your spine bowed up against the ridges of his abs, you’re huffing n’ puffing with every glissade of his beefed-up muscles. “Wh-why–?”

“Why? Why?” His baritone comes out broken, octaves higher. He slouches over to breathe in a heavy gulp of your sweetened scent and almost sobs in disbelief, “‘Why’ m-my wife asks- why-” And before you know it, Toji’s holding tightly onto your cute throat n’ siiiinking his fat shaft deeper inside. Shoving and shoving his toned v-line into you with every snug resistance from your cunt, “Ohhh fuck- fuck! I can’t even- you don’t even know- because m’gonna break ya, doll.”

“Gonna break- ngh- gonna– fuuuck, why are you so big?” You’re so fucking full that you can feel his steaming dollops of pre fill you up to your lungs, damn near splitting you in half. 

Grinning savagely, “N’ yet she’s still begging for more. She wants me- needs me-” With a coo, Toji hikes up one of his meaty thighs to plant down on your sweaty skull and make you arch. “-and I thought I’d die without this p-pretty pussy.”

“Hck! Inside- w-want every inch, Toji–” The wooden floorboards underneath creakily sing with every rummaging drill. 

He was fucking you like a madman. “That damn curse- fuck, wanted to fuck you right there. Right in public- right in front of e-everyone.” Truly, he was burning every nanosecond he wasn’t jackhammering you silly. 

That cursed technique working overtime to make him tense his front and slap sloppily into the mounds of your ass. Over and over in jagged, animalistic ruts just trying to fit himself in. 

More more more more - and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“Take it all- gonna break-” The rotund curve of his left thumb roams down, curling past your soppy crevice to smear open your droopy folds. Wiiidely agape to push his squelching cock further, the snagging stretch felt feral. “-gonna break me.”

A fat line of saliva escapes from one end of Toji’s unfastened maw once you clench, dripping down to target your leaking hole with a loud splat! splat! splat! The impact so sudden and scalding hot that it has you flinching-

“O-oi–” And has Toji immediately digging the fringes of his fingerpads deeper upon either side of your throat and tugging- you weren’t even creeping away this time, and yet he was letting off a pained grunt as if you were. 

Couldn’t even bear the mere thought-

“No no no no no, don’t run-” He’s gritting his teeth, precisely skidding his vein-decorated length until Toji’s pointed mushroom smooches your most sensitive spot. A direct strike, “Don’t run from me, mama. You have nowhere to run tonight.” 

Finally, finally bottoming out. 

BANG!

Toji’s palm comes slamming down on the space of floor right beside your head, hard enough that the entire floor shudders. Just as much as he was. 

“Fuck- fuck.” He sounded so fucked-out that it made your own ears ring. Long, raven lashes shuttering, cheekbones flushing, scarred mouth falling into an oh! at the feeling of your hot cunt.

“O-oh my god…fuuuck Toji–!” You’re sobbing at the taut stretch of your poor walls, bruising with the slip n’ slide of his rock-hard length. Toji’s cock was probin’ in so deep that you’re counting every lecherous ba-dump! of his racing pulse down under. 

A few black tendrils of his happy trail rub on your ass cheeks as he’s tugging you closer, furiously blinking his hooded eyelids to clear his vision. 

“M’gonna…” And just as soon as the words are forming on his tongue- they’re falling flat. 

Because Toji’s only just raising his white-knuckled hand from the sizzling carpet to find that he’d left a smashed crater in the shape of his hand. 

Strength so overwhelming, powers so out of control - he didn’t know whether it was the technique or you that had him so…ruined. 

“H-heh.” He barks out a hoarse breath of shocked laughter, that very same heated palm drifting down to cup your bulging pussy. Stretched and stretched and stretched around his barreling size–

You can only squirm at the way his touch is so unintentionally hot, almost simmering out the branding of his handprint. Dangerous. 

One hand massaging your tearful cunt, the other letting go of your craned neck to pat that outline he was fucking into your tummy with every- single- slam. The shape of his glazed tip creamin’ into your insides, Toji coos. “M’gonna haaaa fill this cute bulge up with Megs’ new younger sister, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Big big BIG

“You- you know I respect you- right, my love?” Nanami’s seething out with a sharp bite of his handsome jaw, nostrils flaring at that saccharine scent you were giving off. “Right?”

Slowly, you nod– vision blurred with the glassy film of your own stimulated tears. 

What? What happened to make your dear, gentle Nanami Kento so…feral. 

Only for your husband to spank down a hold on the curve of waist and draaaag you bodily down the silken sheets- “Because- because m’gonna fuck you right now. Hard. Fast. Disrespectful.” 

Oh. 

Nanami wasn’t just big - he was teeth-clenchingly, mind-numbingly big. So wide n’ swollen that just a brush of his pretty pink tip against your mushy walls left you ruined from the inside out, whining. 

And right now he was bigger. 

“Ken–” Your brows furrow adorably tight, and you’re swearing that that made your husband grow even fatter. Prolonging a few sultry inches that made your toes curl all the way, “-Ken y-you’re so…”

“S’biiig, huh?” He’s softly swabbing away that thin trickle of drool decorating the side of your lips. Free hand loosening that satin yellow tie of his that he didn’t even bother taking off - couldn’t. “Keep those- hah! legs open, s’alright-”

And every breathy word comes out in a murked pant - heaving, desperate. Gasp after hot gasp departing from his stern mouth every time Nanami’s squelching his girth inside, he spits wetly down your slit. 

“See?” Thumbing inside that translucent splatters, “You- you can take this, then you can take this, my wife. You can- haaaah you hafta. Let me- let me.”

“Oh, p-pleeease!” You’re squealing as he laces an overlarge palm on top of your sweat-matted crown and pushes you onto his throbbing, aching length. Ogling away at the beefy flex of his biceps as he does-

The intensity of your gaze makes him jolt. Body shocked, heat burning- his carnal fingertips itching to squeeze your puckered pussylips together, “C’mon-” Tighter, cock pulsing fatter. “C’mon.” Tighter. 

Just to watch the way your moans pitch higher, face polished with a wave of fucked-out drool - your husband was so mean.

“Hafta fill you up.” His scorching pants make your forehead humid with perspiration. Words sharp, narrowed down where his mushroom tip was slimily mazing inside of you, “Hafta make her f-full, hafta ngh- breed this cute lil’ cunt right here.”

He’s never been this…depraved. 

Never been this vulgar, never this impatient as he keeps clinging onto the nub of your clit with his ring finger, making you yelp at the chilling touch. And you had half the mind to wonder what the hell happened on his mission today.

“What happened? What- ngh! I’ll tell you wh-what happened, my love.”

Shit- were you talking out loud?

His bludgeoning thrusts were so rawly good that it had you stupid, your pupils circling your eyes in a way that was almost silly. “Wh-what…”

“S’a curse- a technique- a- fuck! I don’t even know.” Something stupid when he was rushing to get home to you. And something even more deprived cracks at the back of Nanami’s dry throat, syllables slurring together in a way you’ve never heard your eloquent husband do before. 

“Just wanna fuh-fuck you, darlin’.” Soft, plump lips graze yours tenderly, and he’s drinking in your sweetened scent. The taste of it enough that he ruts - without even knowing. “Want- no, need it. S’like this pretty pussy’s hck! holding me hostage. Gonna die without her.”

He needed you. He needed you. 

The very moment that Nanami finds himself sheathed all the way to those curls of tawny gold lining down his washboard abs - filling you up so much you could barely motion your lungs to breathe - he’s gone. Gone. 

And he was fucking you straight into the mattress, until you felt like you were on the very verge of being swallowed up by the creaking bedsprings. Until you felt like you were going insane-

Bottomed out yet pushing and pushing and pushing.

Your trembling fingers latch ‘round Nanami’s dangling tie for dear life, and it only makes the sculptured man above you grin. “Yeah- yeah that’s it–” One of his roughened free hands clasp over your own and let you puuuull and tug to your lecherous heart’s content, “-roughen me up.”

He wanted to be strung around, he wanted you to scrape your nails all over his muscles every time his deeply scouring cock was hitting your innards. 

“Oh- my god, Kento–!” Comes out your answering whine as he slouches his sturdy weight on top of you until you’re press-press-pressed down with his core. Heels of your feet snagging on the bindings of his thigh suspenders, “Please- please please m’so close.”

Harder. Faster. 

Gazing down at where you were slobbering in great heaving dollops with such greed, Nanami was so needy that you see him drool in thin slivers. 

He didn’t even realize. 

“S-such pretty birthing hips. We’re gonna have s-such gorgeous kids.” He almost whimpers - whimpers out - blond strands sticking in an uncharacteristically unruly manner to his forehead. Nanami plants yet another sweet mass of spit on your sensitive cunt until it had you squirming, “That- yeah like that- c-can you spell my name, darling?”

And he wasn’t just asking - he was manhandling you into it with a few thorough pushes of his toned thighs. Shaking. Unsteady. 

Nanami’s breath catches in his breath once your gyratin’ hips manage to move in something that resembled a slurping K-E-N-T-O - giving extra care to let his vein patterns massage your sweet spots on that last ‘O’.

“O-oh, Ken–” Your hips keep repeatedly bucking and he finds it so hypnotizing, “-m’close- m’gonna- fuck fuck fuck m’gonna…”

K-E-N-T-O

One set of thick fingers rolling on your clit, the other pushing those fogged-up glasses further up his blushing face. 

“Fuck-” Curved mound of his breeder balls kissing your cunt over and over, stinging. Something in him twitches as he feels your fleshy walls squeeze n’ clench n’ cum. “Fuuuck k-keep doing that and m’gonna…make a mess. M’gonna-”

The wave of your high only punctures with one of your shrilling moans as Nanami’s tunneling shaft gives an animalistic twitch. You’re hauling him by the tie to crash your lips into his, open-mouthed and raw. “P-please Ken…inside…?”

Barely even coherent over your euphoria and it still manages to shock him to his very core like a zillion volts. 

And maybe he’s cumming - maybe he’s cumming twice- but fuck. He doesn’t even know right now, doesn’t even feel anything other than the clingy splatter of something wet and oozing out of his geysering tip - and the cold, cold taste of your wedding ring. 

Being brought up to his snarling mouth so that he can bite down– “-m’gonna p-put another one of hck! these on you, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “S-sweet…”

That soft gasping whine tumbles out of Geto’s pretty lips like he didn’t even mean it to - like he didn’t even fucking realize until it was too late. 

And your tearful eyes are cracking wider just a smidge, a sweltering hot gasp sprinting from your mouth and straight towards his tender shaft. Where your leader was ravenously fisting his reddened length in front of your face - rapid, sloppy tugs while he straddled your head.

Practically goading that pearl-sheened droplet of precum to splatter down onto your face, “Sweet.” His nostrils flare as he’s gulping in your scent even further, and now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

That all-new cursed technique the sorcerers used on him was driving him mad, dolloping out a stringy wad of sap that leaks from the strawberry-pink orifice homed at his very tip. Down, down, down to glue your puckered lips together, “You’re so sweet.” Spank goes the ringing impact of his vein-covered length slapping your cheek, until you feel every winding pattern. Gasping, “Why? Why the fuck are you so sweet?”

Agonizing, he was genuinely asking.

Spank spank spank- 

Geto’s slender fingers fly up n’ down from the raven curls at his pelvis to thumb his curvaceous cockhead, “Gonna- gonna be the death of me.” His thick, milky thighs shiver where he hovers over your face, dark brows furrowed. “-gonna ruin me. Gonna fuck- fuuuck–”

Your tongue flops out readily as a few speckles of pale white ooze out onto your face, spittle overflowing at the way it was so hot you could almost see steam.

And it wasn’t enough that you’re making him cum like this - your glittery pussy just looks so delectable that Geto Suguru feels like he could die if he doesn’t shuffle himself down your body and plug you full right this very second.

So that’s exactly what he does. 

Fast enough that your stupidly muddled brain wonders whether your boyfriend had teleported, because in a split-second he’s thwacking his ruby-red tip between the leaky crevice of your pussy and cumming.

In ropey, white mases that cobweb your entrance- Geto’s spit-stringed maw falls open at the way your glistening hole quivers greedily. “God, you love it like this, huh?” He seethes, canines drawn in a snarl. “You love it. Sucking me up like that- ya have noooo idea what you do t’me, huh?”

“J-jus’ want you so bad, Suguru–” You’re whining out, the caps of your knees hitting your tits once you’re being folded like a lawnchair underneath him. 

“Fucking slut.” Trying for his usual predatory leer but he sounds feral, gone. Sounding off the most primal slurp as he coats his achin’ tip with the lustre of slick dripping down your boneless thighs, Geto leans over until you could practically taste his expensive cologne. “S’worse than that t-technique. You…you like it like this, huh?”

And the ‘yes yes yes’ is just starting to formulate on your tongue before he’s smushing your cheeks together with his left hand - and barreling his fat, rock-hard cock into your sobbing cunt with the right.

Inch after inch.

So big that just the first creeped-in plop! of his ridged tip scours your gooey wet spots and leaves you keening. His rotund tip stout and wiiide enough that your mouth falls into the same agape oh!

It wasn’t enough - just getting himself off would never be enough. He needed you you you–

“S’that it? S’that what you want?” Geto’s grouching sounds just as merciless as his pace was starting up, flexible hips swirlin’ aaaaching drags of his heavy cock against every nook and cranny of your pussy. “Ta ruin me? Huh–?” And his eyes blow wide, shuddering thighs coming to press up against yours, he grins. “Well- you’ve got me ruined. Fuuuuck you’ve got me ruined.”

“N-nghhh– Sugu- s-so deep.” You cry out once his cherry-red tip swabs your cervix in a prolonged line, your sanity fraying at the edges with each rummaging push. 

“Shit- you like being fuh-fucked like this.” Pounding every wiry sput of ivory into you so hard that you can feel it swirl inside of you and make such a mess. It wasn’t lost on his cottony brain how that only made you even wetter, prattling. “Like this- all- all sloppy.”

“Yes- yes yes yes, want it- want it all.”

And your ruthless leader doesn’t know whether it’s that damn technique or simply you that makes his heart race so rapidly. 

Giving your cushy walls yet another slam, “Oh yeah? Ya like it when I make this ngh- cute cunt all sloppy? Then you better not w-waste a single drop.”

You’re mewling at the probing feeling of his slender fingertips pushing apart your claggy folds to treat your pulsating clit like a button. Tugging and toying. “D-did you just stutter?”

“Shut up.” And for all your mouthiness, it earns you the biggest slap of Geto’s split-ended head bruising your g-spot. So hard that he was almost a magenta purple at the drooling tippy-top, “Shut up shut up shut up-” 

His soothing bass cracks, his hips shudder. Your calves almost ache where he’s manhandling you easily into a mating press, “N’ take it- t-take it- Hck! gonna be all full with me…full with my kids.”

Plural - and that is almost enough to make you babble out nonsense all over again.

“Fuh-fuuuuck– Sugu–”

Geto’s hazed amethyst eyes falter shut as he buries his face to your throat and draaaags in a deep inhale of your honey-dipped pheromones. So sweet. “H-heh- maybe that’ll stop all that backtalk- huh, gorgeous?” 

The curvy lines of his veins slip across your walls as he drills into you oh-so-relentlessly, and the only response you can give are a few gurgling gasps of his name. 

He was insatiable - nothing like himself.

“Yeah? Oh yeah?” Something in his voice hatches primally, and Geto leans over almost mockingly. Harder. Plump, pink lips curling with every squelch! your stretched-out walls sing, “Tell her ta s-stop drooling n’ talk to me straight-”

“B-but I am-”

“I meant her.” Cutting you off, you can feel your ears pop with the sheer pressure of him ravaging your tender insides. The mound of his crownhead pushes into your cervix and you whine– “Shh- she’s talking-” 

Fuck, he wasn’t even talking to you. So fucked-out that you wondered whether he even realized. 

“She’s talking- telling me that she wants it- ohhh she wants me ta fill you up e-even more-” He has the audacity to giggle - giggle - out something octaves higher and maddened, “-ta breed you, my p-pretty cumdump. To make you all full and round and- and full. Full of my daughter, gorgeous.”

Only dabbing the hand at your clit upwards to sliiide along your ajar maw, gathering a few gumdrops of creamy cum that had decided to slip free earlier— he glosses over your lips and makes you let off the loudest wet noise yet. 

Your lashes grow heavy with tears of sensitivity as that very same sensory pad sneaks down to your swollen folds, gliiiding it all over in a lustrous coating. Thick and hot. 

“H-heh.” 

His parched Adam’s apple bobs at the treacly wet glazes decorating both pairs of your lips, looking so unfairly pretty. All dark strands of black sticking to his clammy forehead, dimples displayed, blush devastating. “Almost looks better on her.” Half-opened eyes narrowed down at your soppy pussy, now all glittery and moistened. Geto growls, “Gonna hafta give her a second helping ta make sure, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Got milk?!

“B-baby-” Choso’s puffy, ruby-red lips flap wildly as your hips swerve gently arooound his aching hot cock. That swollen mushroom tip of his stirring your goopy insides in a snug heart until you didn’t know whether you were more fucked or he was. “Baby- hck! baby.”

“Yeeees, Cho?” You’re cooing downwards, planting a sweet, sweet kiss that leaves your poor best friend blushing. 

He was just plain cute even after a mishap with his own cursed technique - one that left his curse-like powers out of control and him…in heat. Thankfully you knew how to help. 

Whining breathily as he gnaws on your lower lip like candied gum, “N-no…”

You watch on with your head tilted prettily as he lowers his chestnut gaze shyly, a silvery line of sweat roaming somewhere down his temple. “I-I meant-” Choso’s stuttering out needily, the blushing curve of his shaft pounding oh-so-rapidly inside of you, pulse racing. He’s creeping a hand up the sides of your hips - your womb. “-I w-want a baby, baby.”

Every second that you’re stilling in slight shock felt like agony to him, every soft clench you’re instinctively smooching over his rummaging circumference was heaven.

And Choso was damn near letting his heavy lids burst with a waterfall of desperate tears before you blink your lashes in such a sensual way– 

“Awww, Choso–” Leaning over his toned pectorals until your honeyed scent overwhelms him and makes him throb. You pat the sexy incubus-looking inking that’d burned over his curly brown happy trail, “-of course you c-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - doesn’t have the patience to.

Not even the fucking sanity to do anything but clamp down his honed, animalistic canines into the crook of your neck and cum. Just from those words shrilling out of your mouth– he’s wafting out guttural grunts upon grunts into your heated flesh with every splat! of creamy seed covering your insides.

“I-I’ll take ngh- care of it.” You’re making out his scratchy words, “I’ll take care I’ll— oh.” The plump pads of his fingers smear a wet wipe down your leaking slit, scooping up oodles of cum. “I’ll take take of you- take care of our daughter take- take–”

Shit, you looked so sinful with your pretty pussy drooling down on him this way.

Spraying out a shiny sheen of glossy white that dripped down either side of his slender hips, your greedy entrance gulping up every wiry web of seed he was pouring inside you. 

“Need to fuck you- gonna fuck you. Feels like m’fucking burning up if I don’t…” Overtaking him - overtaking his pace.

You’re squealing at the splosh of wetness pooled inside your walls, “P-please, baby.” Head throwing back stupidly once the fat of his thumb slithers to stuff your hole with so many copious wads of sap. “W-want more-”

“D-don’t say that.” A hefty digit finds itself stuffed inside your slackened mouth, and you can’t help but slurp up the caramel salted taste of Choso’s cum right off of him. “-s’not good t-to talk out of your cute c- oh…”

And he’s so ready for you to squirm your body even closer and spit that ivory frosting back over into his mouth, striking his pinkish tastebuds with a resounding splatter. And he swallows. His eyes rolling all the way backwards until you could only see pure white- humming, “But I want more, Cho. Inside.”

“M-more.” Choso gazes up at you - blank-faced, mouth agape. Gone. Shaking his head, gasping to free himself from this cursed technique, “Really- really want more.”

Nodding, “Mor- mmpf–!”

Choso’s slouching over right in half - he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t want anything but more. In an instant, all the murked air inside your lungs is being squeezed out once Choso sits up on the silken mattress and hugs his strong arms ‘round your body.

Face pushing into your neck, breath scorching your skin. “More- more.” A high-pitched - almost crazed - sort of laughter departs from his adhesive-like lips, “She wants more- my-” Groooaning at the sultry smooch of his weepy orifice accurately into your cervix, “-my baby wants more fuuuck–!”

Mouth watering with a syrupy wave of spittle at your fragrance, so sweet that he could almost taste it. With a creak! of your aged bedcoils, he’s pounding up into you-

Hard. Fast.

Every gyrating motion massaging his tense core all over your front n’ sweaty inner thighs, “Milking me- milking me- ohh, my baby can f-feel all of it, huh?” 

“I can- hngh! C-can…” Your arms throw over Choso’s broad shoulders as you hold on for dear life. He was just so veiny that every whack! whack! whack! of his bludgeoning crown left your dangling knees weak.

Curtained by silky bangs, glassy eyes of his catch yours, “You can- y-you can, h-huh? Feel every inch, every v-vein-” Almost as if he himself couldn’t believe it, Choso’s trekking over one of his splayed palms to feel for where he’s rummaging your insides and hisses. Sharp tattoos on his nosebridge crinkling, “-every push-” His puffily veined shaft slips over your g-spot with a delicate sluuuuurp, “-right here?”

“Oh- ohhhh fuck! I can–”

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah- feel it. Feel me.” Now slobbering like a damn dog with every cloudy puff of your pheromones, he can feel the heat overtaking him and making his glistening tip swell. “Gonna fuh-fucking die before I don’t fill ya up-”

It was almost hard to remember that this was your best friend. You’re thumbing away one of the pearly translucent tears that slip down his burning cheeks, “Then you better not hah! miss.”

So looong that every rugged thrust reaches your deepest, tenderest insides; spearheading your poor pussy until you felt your folds rub raw. And the sloppier his cadence gets, the more rapidly your hazed irises are circlin’ your eyes dizzily. 

Choso’s sweet lips glue to each other with a lustre of spit and wobbles, a furious blush overtaking his features from the tips of his ears to down under. “N-ngh!”

And it’s all that he has to say- all that he can breathe before Choso’s not just cumming for the second time - he’s squirting. 

You made him squirt out hot rivulets of sticky sap that clings onto your cunt lovingly, trickling down every ridge of his washboard abs. So much. So heavy.

His bulky tip slips out of your entrance at the sheer momentum and Choso whines- “Sh-she’s gonna have your gorgeous eyes- I love your eyes…” Angrily fisting the chubby base to froth out more and more milky ribbons that scorch your slippery crevices, you’re being flooded to the very brim. “-your smile- y-your beautiful skin- your hair- alllll of you. M’gonna take care of it allll.”

Thighs twitching, you’re barely even talking at this point, your pussy letting off more than enough chatty squelches on behalf of you. 

Choso grips a handful of your right asscheek to tug you closer before- with a noisy splatter, a few viscid tendrils of cum drivel out of you. And oh, his tear-filled gaze is hypnotized by the sight of the mess he’s made below. 

Jaw-dropped. Heated. 

“Oh- marry me.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Suffocate me, woman.

The King of Curses didn’t know how he got here- he didn’t even know why. 

One his damn court subjects was showing off a cursed technique, and the next thing y’know is that you’re seated right on top of his plush, puckered mouth whilst the Ryomen Sukuna begged for your dripping wet cunt. 

“O-oh but, Kuna-” Your lower lip wobbles cutely as his clawed fingers grip each side of your hips like a vice, he’d already been driving you mad with his tongue and his dual cocks for hours now. 

And yet - he still needed more.

“Fuck ‘b-b-but’.” Your hulking husband snarls from down below, and just the sight of his gleaming, honed canines is enough for you to shudder out a gasping oh! The edges of his plump lips tickling your perked pulsing clit-

“If I suffocate y-”

“Then fucking s-suffocate me.” You don’t even have the time to register that you’d made the big, bad king stutter before he’s gripping a bruising handful of your ass and draaaagging you down. Plopping, sitting. Grouchy baritone cracking, “Wh-who do ya think I am, puny human?”

It was a rhetorical question, and the only answer you’re able to give is a jumble of mashed ‘fuck!’ and “Kuna!” 

Bellowing out a throaty groan at the honeyed sap beading down his tongue, Sukuna’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs and gasps with every gulp. Every slap of his scratchy tastebuds, every smooch. 

“S-smells so sweet.” And as if he wasn’t lewd enough, you’re feeling the frigid breeze of him inhaaaling the fragrance of your candied pussy. Grunting, “Wanna kiss? Sloppy- w-wanna kiss, don’tcha?” The slivery edge of his tongue slips past your folds and laps up the remnant excess of his creampies from before- “Mmmm- s’not enough. Not- not enough.”

“N-not enough?”

And it really wasn’t enough for him.

Shoving himself even more nose-deep between your puffy folds meant that Sukuna was hypnotized, his crimson peripherals barely peeking out between his pinkish bangs. 

“Cleaning you up t-ta put in more-” A webbed wallop of cum slips between his lips, and he’s taking a few seconds to sniff your honeyed, raw cunt once more. Senses sensitive twofold, “-gotta put in more. S-sooo much more. Gotta fill you up.”

His mouths - both his mouths - were fucking restless. The slimy tip of his second cursed tongue weaving upwards until you’re flinching at its touch, slopping a wet sheen all over your inner thighs. You’re shuddering as the very berry-pink muscle prolongs to slap your clit, “W-wait that’s ngh! Unfairrrr–”

“Didn’t think I would be nice, did ya?” He’s grumbing out, and the length of his other tongue was so loooong that it could stretch all the way until you’re being smeared wide open. Up, up, up just to taste you. 

You’re halfway through screaming as you feel the tiny hearts that he’s drawing over your inner thighs, faster. Faster. Cracking open a heavy eye, “What? Hm?” Not talking to you - but to his other cursed mouth. “Keh, greedy thing. Go on then.”

Oh. 

Oh, you only get what he meant when his winding muscle starts pokin’ your rubbery entrance. Playfully nudging once - twice, before splitting you so open. 

“S-so deep-!” Sukuna’s mazing his tongue down your dewy dampened walls so deep, glistening hot tip searching like a headlight. He scratches the ridges of his tastebuds right over where he could just pinpoint your g-spot, “W-wait there- hck! There–!”

And usually he would snipe back with something smug, usually he would mock your wailing whines.

But right now, Sukuna was so gone on your dizzying pussy that his nostrils flare as he pushes further face-deep between your jittery legs. 

“There- there there there.” 

Chin dribbling with a lustrous glazing of slick and cum and slick, your fuzzy brain sparks with so many stars with every thrust. Faster. “Does it please you to drench me, brat?” Making out with your slobbering cunt like a man parched. Faster. “Does it p-please you to have me like this? Begging and cleaning out your sloppy haaaa pussy- only to fill you up again?”

Overstimulated tears saturating your eyes, you can only throw your head back and whine– “Y-yes–” Legs twitching where they were fully cushioning Sukuna’s handsome face, “-please…won’t last, Kuna–”

It’s like both his drooling maws only get more eager at your declaration.

Jaw spanking the front of your cunt, he’s sucking on your cute clit like a lolly. “Won’t last, huuuh?” Leering grin reflected upon both mouths, Sukuna’s second tongue dares to draw a swooping pattern- no, his name. His name in a sizzling hot motion on your battered g-spot, “Cum then.”

And when you do, it’s with that very same name trilling from your spit-slicked mouth until your lips are buzzing. 

Peak after peak of white-hot euphoria that leaves your head spinning, heartbeat thundering down all the way to your hot core. And the king is soooo much more than happy to let his features brace your every sloppy drag. 

Creaky joints ricketing at the sheer force, the backs of your thighs aching, “S-s’too good-” Your throat clogs with a few wads of saliva that overspill, so filthy. “-feels like m’in heaven, Kuna.”

And it’s only once your tingling high has simmered down, only once you’re just beginning to catch your punctured breath that he’s finally, finally wrenching himself away with a claggy mwah!

“Well don’t tap out just yet, brat.” Heavy lids hooded - the smile he’s gifting you is so drunken. Chuckling gruffly, “Look at this mess.”

Calling it a ‘mess’ was an understatement. 

Sukuna was ravaged from the apples of his high cheekbones - all glossy with a lacquer of your juices - down to his slobbering second mouth. Still licking its monstrous lips with the cloying remnants of you, tongue flicking wet swipes at your thighs for more more more. 

“Clean it up.”

His tone is sharp, stern- but the way that the man himself hiccups once two of his four beefy arms pick you up and manhandle you over his matching cocks was anything but. 

Hell, he was already wondering whether he could get that damn curse to hit him with this cursed technique a second time.

“O-oh.” Sukuna stutters - stutters, at the heated warmth of your pussylips being spread open over his swollen, pre-topped cockhead. Both so big that not even how much his secondary mouth had tugged on your hole could prepare you for the streeeeetch–

“That’s it- that- that’s it-” His broad, meaty pecs heave, his crimson eyes dilate, his own mouth drools at the snug clench of you. Looming so big, you’re being hovered down like a pretty porcelain doll to maze his rovering strawberry divots tight inside your wet cunt, ravenous. “The king can’t have an heir without filling ya up, human.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - HEIR

It wasn’t the Gojo clan leader’s fault this time - it wasn’t. He swears with every sparking, pussydrunken ounce of his brain that he didn’t purposefully let those damn elders hit him with a sex technique-

“Y’know why I l-let them haaaah- use that technique on me, s-sweetheart?” Gojo’s pert, pink lips twitch as they struggle to keep holding his cocky smirk. Snowy brows furrowing at the splashing wave of his own cum that greets him at your entrance, rumbling bass low in your ear. 

And a sensual squelch sounds as he draaags his ruby tip all the way down and up your slit, sluuurping in a way that makes your husband lick his own lips. “Because this sweet pussy was ngh- begging to be bred. They wan’ an heir, they’re gonna get one.”

And before you can even let out another saturated gasp! he’s hovering his clammy palm over your tummy - your skin crackling with the sizzle of cursed energy before-

“Not yet.”

Not yet not yet not yet.

You’re whining, it’s been this way for hours - days? - now, and Gojo’s leveraging his glowing Six Eyes to check whether his repeated, milky creampies had finally taken. “T-Toru, you’re so mmpf-!”

Unable to even finish your sentence before his beefy, impatient arms are looping around your restless body and hauling you halfway down the soft tatami mats. Both boneless legs thrown over one shoulder, Gojo hadn’t even bothered to take off his expensive yukata. 

Hadn’t even bothered to think - to breathe before he’s plugging you up until you’re overflowing. The curving fringe of his mushroomed tip smacking open your glutinous walls, he hugs your thighs. “She’s begging- she’s saying ohhh…”

“F-fuuuck, Toru!” The whack of his slimily-topped cockhead into your cervix makes you keen, gushing out in so many spurts of thick white that it forms a puddle below you. “Satoru, it’s the hck! technique-”

“S’not.” He’s gritting his pearly teeth, and there’s a little tremble in Gojo’s voice that makes him sound as if he’s on the verge of sobbing. Tender ribbons of his veins bursting out shockwaves- “She’s talking t’me- telling me h-how badly she wants ta be bred.” Sneaking a deeeeep gulp of your saccharine pheromones, gasping. Dizzy. “Don’t you hear that- don’t you- fuuuck, listen.”

Drilling into you until your popped eardrums flood with those noisy squelches, and to the strongest it wasn’t just lecherous music to his ears. 

No, no, no no- it was a full-on conversation that he was sluggishly nodding his head along with. “Right- right.” Smile dangling with strings of lustrous saliva that seems to water his mouth after every vulgar rut, “Says sh-she wants ta be all full- all round n’ glowing with my hair. Nghhh– oh, she’s purring.”

Words crackling with a bout of crazed laughter, you’re gulping at the sexy way that Gojo’s azure pupils bulge ever-so-slightly with stimulation. 

Thighs thrashing on top of his broad shoulder- but Gojo’s too strong. He’s pinning them down on one side and trawling you to meet every mazing thrust, leaking divot digging inside your wet cunt like a searchlight. 

“Satoru- hck! Satoru–” Your trills pitch upwards in both volume and pitch again and again and again with every slapping slam of his rounded girth inside. Gummy walls rubbed raw after so many hours, your body twitches every time you feel the remnants of his goopy cum dribble down your entrance. “I-I want-”

“-more?” Gojo finishes for you, octaves higher. Feverish - and it wasn’t just the technique any more.

And the look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t going to back down any time soon, he wasn’t even growing close to slowing down once he rovers a hand down to your clit and pinches. 

“H-heh, more.” He’s sputtering wetly, knobbly ends of his fingers buzzing with cursed energy. Making you see white-hot, “More more more more–” Gojo twists his dextrous wrist and pulls on your clit, “-my wife w-wants ngh- more, riiiight?”

“Yes- yes yes yes yes-” But more than that you were so close - you were about to cum.

But, of course, the Gojo Satoru knew that.

It’s exactly why he’s tugging on your perked clit a few repeated times more, flickers of blue lightning bolting from the ends of his pretty eyes as he gazes down at your tummy and watches his fat, meaty cock part your slippery walls and target your g-spot dead-on. 

Powers working overtime, “Hit iiiit~” Going out of control, he couldn’t stop watching every syrupy smooch right into that cute bundle o’ nerves, “C’mon- scream my name every time I hit it- don’t be haaaa shy, sweetheart.”

You do you do, with every stinging smack! of skin sticking onto skin - Gojo’s hips were so ruthless it’s as if he was trying to brand your ass with the imprints of his v-line, bruising himself red. 

“More- heh- n’ you’re gonna g-get more.” Cooing at your glittery pussylips, he strikes your clit with a pap! of his thumb. Rubbing in your scent, “More more more- more-”

And Gojo counts underneath his strained breath to exactly three before you’re hitting your overwhelming orgasm. Startling your tearful eyes wide open with the sheer force- it’s enough to make him hitch his breath and collapse his sweaty body on top of yours. 

The squeeze of your strobing walls so tight, the toe-curling pleasure enough for Gojo himself to rub his washboard abs in sultry gyrations like he was melting into you. Stirrin’ his rotund crown deeply inside with every blissful wave, as if he could see the stars bursting cartoonishly around your head. 

Face furiously flushed, long lashes flapping, maw agape. 

“Yeah c’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon–” He’s hissing into your open mouth, sharp canines leaving your poor swollen lips bruised. “-milk me. Milk me- This time- this time s’gonna take, my girl.”

It’s so much - both your peaked highs and the way that Gojo’s crashing into his own. Not hitting, no- crashing. 

Because all it takes is a few more sloppy strokes of his uneven cadence and his strawberry glazed orifice is bursting with jetstreamed squirts of cum - squirting. 

“O-oh my- fuck!” Your throat scratches at the sheer volume being animalistically stuffed inside of you, creamy white seed and sap and- and you’d just made Gojo Satoru squirt. 

The idea itself was enough to drive you wild - and so was the splashes of puddling torrents that bawled out of your sopping wet pussy. So much that you were leaking, thick. Gushing–

Splat!

You don’t even realize that you’re fucked stupid until it takes a wet splatter somewhere near your heaving chest for you to be brought back into heady reality. Lashes blinking back some semblance of your blotchy vision, “T-Toru are you-”

He was tearing. Those pooling salted tears staining your skin just as much as his goopy white cum was soiling the yukata slipping off of his broad deltoids.

“Oh…” 

“Wh-what–?”

Gojo’s drool-covered lips sag open as he veers his misty gaze to that tummy bulge he’d just pounded ruthlessly into you, aching hips still slithering his swollen inches back and forth. 

Fully wrung out, voice breaking- he sniffles, “-it took i-it took and…oh” Before you can let out anything more than a few whimpering hiccups, you’re just stuffed so full you can barely articulate. “Wonder- wonder if she’ll be gorgeous like her mama- ngh! W-wonder if she’ll be e-extra powerful if I breed this ngh- sweet pussy twice. ” 

He’s giving you a squeeze to your clit that makes you whine at the faintly buzzing cursed energy, fully babbling now. “Wonder if I can use cursed energy on my cock-”

“Satoru.”

A/N. MWAHAHA I feel somewhat better now babygirls n’ it’s all cuz of y’all <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hey! Can I make a request for a s/o that tries to get Arlecchino/Yelan/Eula/Shenhe to laugh?

(Genshin Impact/H:SR) Arlecchino, Yelan, Eula, Shenhe, Herta, Hanya, and Fugue's S/O trying to get them to laugh

HERTA JUMPSCARE!

Arlecchino is more amused by the fact S/O is trying to get her to laugh rather than anything they directly do.

Which is to be commended, whether out of bravery or some form of perceived death wish by others.

(Arlecchino) "...S/O, what are you doing?"

S/O was currently dressed in a ridiculous duck outfit, with many of the children at the House looking at them in disbelief, laughing and also wanting to play with them.

(S/O) "Um...being funny?"

She glances the outfit up and down, the only expression being made was the raise of a single eyebrow.

(S/O) "Is it working?"

(Arlecchino) "In some capacity, yes."

Arlecchino replied in the most deadpan voice imaginable.

She isn't entirely made of stone, but because it amuses her, she doesn't really change her usual stoic expression at S/O's shenanigans.

She does however find it somewhat sweet.

Result: Task failed successfully!

Yelan is pretty easy to amuse, though not in the way most people imagine.

She can "laugh" along to what people say, but that's usually to blend in to her job.

When it comes to actually genuinely laughing, she has a different means to do that.

Letting S/O roll her dice.

(S/O) "HOW IN THE HELL DID I GET SIX ONES IN A ROW?!"

Yelan immediately bursts into laughter from their anger, seeing this was the sixth time they had rolled, and decided that she was going to stay home instead of going out for dinner.

(S/O) "Did you weigh these damn things?!"

(Yelan) "Of course not, that's just how they roll."

(S/O) "MY FOOT!"

They usually tried to get her to laugh at some dumb jokes, which sometimes works, but this is a surefire way to get her almost wheezing. Not that S/O was actively trying here, but it counts!

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Eula's heart was not made of stone, despite what she told others (Even as a joke).

Especially when it came to S/O, her cold, standoffish personality crumbled the moment they gave her any type of affection.

Moreso when they actively tried being stupid to get her to giggle.

(S/O) "Eula!"

She looked up from the book she was reading, only the two of them inside her living room.

(Eula) "S/O? What is it?"

(S/O) "Check it out!-"

S/O was wearing an outfit Amber had personally made them, beaming at them with a smile.

Bearing a rather striking resemblance to-

(S/O) "Mark my words, vengeance will be mine!"

Herself.

(Eula) "...Pfft!-"

Eula immediately folded, laughing with one hand going to her mouth.

(Eula) "How long have you been holding onto that to make a joke?"

(S/O) "About a month."

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Shenhe is stonefaced like, 99% of the time. She understands some humor, but trying to get her to emote any other time is a fool's errand.

One that S/O still attempts!

Jokes were out of the question, so were a bunch of other the usual methods.

Instead, they try a tried and true method!

S/O tickled Shenhe, and her hand instantly caught S/O's wrist within half a second.

(Shenhe) "What are you doing?"

(S/O) "Trying to make you to laugh!"

Shenhe gently released their hand, and tilted her head curiously.

(Shenhe) "...Very well. You may try again."

Shenhe, mentally, is happy with S/O just doing couple shenanigans with them, though she never showed it.

Result: Failed, kinda...?

Herta can laugh, though it's not exactly anything that S/O, much less other people, can comprehend.

And trying to get Herta to laugh can both be the easiest and hardest thing to do.

Trying to tell a joke or show her some dumb picture?

Vetoed, blocked, denied, not funny, didn't laugh, also you're stupid-

In other words, normal humor doesn't really work on humor.

But in an experiment?

(S/O) "H-Herta?! Am I supposed to be feeling so...floaty?"

(Herta) "Yes yes, normal side effects besides...Oh yes, spontaneously imploding."

(S/O) "SPONTAENOUS-WHAT?!"

Herta's laugh immediately fills the room, with her waving a hand dismissively.

(Herta) "Relax, I'm joking...Mostly."

(S/O) "So...any idea when I'll come back to the floor?"

(Herta) "Hm, most likely in a few hours. Worry not, I'll get my puppets to tie you down to a railing."

Her smile persisted, so that was at least some comfort.

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success! Now, get back to drinking those elixirs, Herta needs results!

Given Hanya's life experiences and role as a Judge of the Ten-Lords, humor is pretty hard to come by.

Though that does not stop her S/O from trying!

...And failing pretty miserably at that.

(Hanya) "S/O? What is that?"

(S/O) "I...think it's for a bath, but it's consisting of peppers?"

(Hanya) "You do not intend for us to use that, do you?"

(S/O) "Mostly for me. I was betting someone that I could get you to laugh if I used it."

(Hanya) "I do not think that harming yourself in such capacity would get me to laugh."

(S/O) "Only one way to find out, eh?"

Though S/O was smiling, Hanya was not so easily amused.

...

(Hanya) "Well, your scream was certainly unexpected."

(S/O) "Agh, and so was this burning sensation...! Did it work?"

Hanya had the faintest smirk on her lips.

(Hanya) "I didn't know your pitch could get that high."

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

Fugue was still able to find pleasures from her past life just as enjoyable, chief among them being S/O.

And though they had only the faintest idea of what she was fully going through, getting her to smile was their top priority.

Even if the result made them look like an utter idiot.

That was worth it just to get her to laugh and have that light in her eyes again.

Fugue eyed the bowl S/O had gotten with a suspicious look, noting the red broth.

She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but something in her conscious was screaming something was wrong.

(Fugue) "S/O...Is that spicy?"

(S/O) "Sure is!"

(Fugue) "Can you eat spicy food?"

(S/O) "Kinda? I'm not allergic but it'll make me sweat a lot!"

Before she could question it further, S/O took one bite of the noodles with a pair of chopsticks, before their eyes shot open.

(S/O) "H-HOT! HOT!"

Fugue was stunned for a moment, only to begin laughing afterwards, watching their exaggerated reactions as they rushed to grab water.

(Fugue) "If you just wanted to entertain me, S/O, you could have just brought me to a show."

After rushing back to their seat and drinking the entire can, they gave her a tired smile.

(S/O) "Hah, where's the fun in that...?!"

Result: Girlfriend laughing, Success!

[illbegottenfaith]

unadulterated loathing (a what is this feeling inspired fic)

yours and theo's feelings for each other evoke a deeply visceral physical reaction in both of you, for which there can be only one explanation (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - had this idea ever since I watched wicked and so I whipped smth light and fun up prettyyy quickly (I think this is the fastest I've ever writtena fic? then again it is on the shorter side) enjoyyy :)) p.s. im quite behind on my notifs etc cuz of college so if i havent responded to anything pls know its an accident!

tropes/warnings - enemies to lovers, quips/banter, fluff, mentions of injury

word count - 1.3k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson

"I'm afraid the rumours are true," you were saying to Penelope Skeeter, a budding journalist eager to follow in her aunt's footsteps. "Theodore Nott was just so taken by my looks this morning that he promptly passed out in the Hogwarts library, poor thing. The whole school is bereft, naturally, but Madam Pomfrey herself expects him to make a full recovery."

You paused as her reedy-looking assistant snapped a picture, putting on a breezy, winning smile with just a hint of oh-silly-me-for-putting-one-of-Slytherin's-star-Quidditch-players-in-the-Hospital-Wing-but-also-who-could-blame-this-pretty-face.

"You could say I, quite literally, stole his breath."

Your impromptu interview came to a crashing halt as a strained groan sounded from the hospital bed a short distance away. The three of you glanced over to see that Theo had woken up and was now very much alive and kicking.

"Oh," you said, abandoning that affected, simpering tone for one with a noticeable trace of disdain. You thought you'd have more time. "You're up."

"Lies," Theo rasped breathlessly, with all the menace of a kitten swaddled in a blanket, eyes darting mistrustfully between you and Penelope. "Liar."

You tilted your head, your expression as displeased as it always was when it came to Theo. "Aren't you supposed to be dizzy or something?"

"Don't listen to anything she says, especially if it's about me. Strike that all - hang on - "

You watched him flail uselessly in his attempts to sit up, unimpressed.

"I don't think you hit your head hard enough."

"Shut up," Theo wheezed under the stifling weight of the warm compresses laid across his chest, "and get out."

You pouted exaggeratedly. "But you're sickly, sweetheart."

His already pale face blanched at the pet name. "Out. Out!"

For as long as you could remember, you had never gotten along with Theodore Nott. Anything he said, you'd feel compelled to disagree with, and anything you did, he felt compelled to sneer at. The adverse physical symptoms that presented themselves within each other's proximity certainly didn't seem to help matters. One way or another, sparks were bound to fly if the two of you were in the same room.

"It's - it's her - " Theo had spat out at The Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade trip in your third year. "She's doing this to me and she's doing it on purpose."

Mattheo had creased his forehead.

"Like a...like a hex?"

"No," Theo had said, distractedly scratching the hive that had appeared on the back of his hand. "It's worse than a hex. My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing..."

"...oh," Mattheo had said, realisation dawning upon him. "I get it. It's lo-"

"That's it, Mattheo." Theo had interjected. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?"

"Yes, exactly. Loathing is what this is. Loathing." He had swivelled around, hatefully fixing his gaze on where you were laughing over some undoubtedly inane subject matter over butterbeer with your friends. "Unadulterated loathing."

Mattheo had rolled his eyes over Theo's dramatics.

That was years ago. Now, the butterbeer was gone and the inane subject matter was long forgotten, but the two of you were still too abrasive to get along. It was as though you couldn't help but rub each other the wrong way, the way you brought out the worst in each other. The detestation that everyone had hoped you would grow out of seemed to have grown with you, with petty jabs and insults and below-the-belt undermining becoming a regular occurrence between the two of you.

Today was no different. You were spending your morning free period studying at the library with your friends, roaming the bookshelves for anything that could help you with your Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. You'd turned the corner of the aisle, a heavy tome in hand, only to find Theodore blocking your path, his long fingers leisurely tracing the spine of a book like he had all the time in the world.

"Figures," you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Of all the dark, damp corners in the castle, you'd turn up in this one. Like a bad penny."

Theo's gaze flicked up to meet yours, his expression impassive save for the slight lift of his brow. "Charming as ever, I see," he drawled in his low voice, carrying that familiar bite. "I didn't realise the library was off-limits to people with half a brain."

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. "Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. If brains were currency, you'd be bankrupt."

His lips twitched, and for a moment, you swore he was fighting back a smirk.

"And yet, here I am, managing just fine without the constant headache of your presence. Speaking of which—" he gestured vaguely at the aisle, "—you’re in my way."

There it was - that repulsive, three-sizes-too-big ego of his. Really, it was a wonder how he managed to fit that swollen head of his through the castle doors.

"I'm in your way?" you repeated incredulously. "You do realise the universe doesn't actually revolve around you, right?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he said smoothly, effortlessly plucking your book out of your slack grip. "You always seem to be in my orbit."

You peered up at Theo from beneath your eyelashes. You tilted your head, your lips curling into an insidious, self-satisfied smile that Theo didn't quite understand.

"Please. You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

Theo felt a pang in his chest. His pulse stuttered and there was this nauseating feeling in his stomach. His vision swam, and it was all a bit blurry after that. The next thing he knew, there was an awful lot of shrieking coming from the crowd standing over him. Over him? His hand twitched. The hand that was on the very same rock-hard floor he was lying on. When did he get down here?

He groaned softly as the voices around him grew louder. There was this awful pounding rattling his skull. With considerable difficulty, he cracked an eye open, trying to get a sense of his bearings. Some of the silhouettes seemed vaguely familiar. He could recognise some voices - his friends must have found him. Those looked like Mattheo's shoelaces right next to his face.

And in the middle of it all was you, ashen face with a panic-stricken expression, with a vice-like grip on his forearms.

And then everything went black again.

Madam Pomfrey had come along just then, shooing Penelope and her photographer away. You weren't quite as lucky in your attempt to slip out with them. So now here you were, stoically holding Theo's hand in your slightly clammy palm at his bedside while she checked him over.

She hadn't told you to hold his hand. Theo decided he'd pull away in a minute. Maybe two.

He cleared his throat ineffectively, dry from a lack of water. You glanced at him.

"Admit it. You were terrified for a minute there."

You pressed your lips into a thin line like you were holding back a smile, trying to give the impression of watching Madam Pomfrey.

"You wish," you mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

Still, he didn't miss the way you squeezed his hand as part of you relaxed in what seemed like relief.

"I know."

You dragged your gaze back to him, shaking your head somewhat affectionately as you took in the colour returning to his cheeks.

"I see you're feeling better already."

"Something about you gets my blood pumping."

Madam Pomfrey stepped away for a moment, leaving the two of you alone behind the screen. You leaned in until your noses were almost touching.

"Are you saying I make your heart race, Nott?"

This close, he can see the faint freckles scattered across your nose, the way your lashes brush your cheeks when you blink, and the flicker of mischief in your eyes. And for the first time in all the years he's known you, he admits to himself that perhaps you might be more than a little easy on the eyes. Especially his eyes.

"Sure," he says quietly, his gaze almost lovingly lingering over every blemish along your nose. "Let's go with that."

Part 2

[yourstrqly]

★ . . . 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!interviewer!gf!reader

in which lando doesn't know when to stop with his flirty comments, unknowingly stepping in the footsteps of your lover

warnings: reader is pregnant, unrequited puppy crush on lando's part, mention drunk!seb

"Look at you, simply beautiful like every other day i see you. how are you doing, pretty?", lando exclaimed in excitement as he walked past the set-up of your team. you were in fact beautifully prepared for the upcoming interviews; there was no way you could look like a mess on live tv.

shaking your head at his flirty comment, you huffed while catching your co-workers eyes who simply laughed at your misfortune. "how many times do i have to tell you, lando, i'm too old for you."

"Age is nothing but a number", he grinned brightly at you, not caring for your unamused face. and prison is just a building, you thought.

alex, the grid's twenty-two, saw and heard the interaction with alpha tauri's daniel riccardo next to him, quietly laughing how badly his friend tried to rizz you up. "oi lando, leave the poor woman alone, she's not having it", he said, sensing the slight uneasiness escaping your body — daniel however took a different approach. "c'mon landinho, you'll get her sooner or later."

hearing the comment, you rolled your eyes, flipping the driver off. "danny, you're not helping — no wonder i prefer to interview alex over you at any given time", you said, causing the aussie to gasp dramatically, hand over his heart to show his true pain.

after a while the drivers went their merry way, having to absolve sim training or media duties, you sighed in relief; you liked working with them to bits but they could be too much to handle at times — especially cheeky, awkward lando. you first noticed his puppy crush on you while interviewing him back in his rookie days, most of time with the other two's george and alex. it was endearing for a few weeks but when you fell in love with another man, a driver at that, you grew slowly uncomfortable.

"when are you going to tell him that you're a taken woman who's pregnant? the lad keeps on thinking how to win you over", your coworker dina asked, curiously mirroring her features.

gently caressing your swollen belly, you smile at the words taken woman; you were a lovesick fool for your boyfriend with whom you agreed on taking a step back from work when the summer break begins — which was only two races from now.

"seb thinks its hilarious and i quote: can't wait to show the little one and you off when the break's over."

"he's a shithead y/n, can't believe you got yourself the wolf in sheep's clothing. if alonso is a war criminal, seb's a villain", she laughed out loud, "i'm still waiting for him to take another step and pop the question."

a giggle passed your lips. "remember in 2017 when he flirted at any given change with me, even jokingly proposed? the face was just chef kiss", you wheezed, picturing the memory before your eyes. it was the night after lewis hamilton was named formula one world champion and many drivers, their families and workers of the teams were at a grand party to celebrate the title winner; sebastian, being drunk on champagne, thought it was a fantastic idea to get down on his wobbly knee right in front of you, asking you to marry him. you, completely sober as you had promised to drive lewis and a mechanic of the merc team to the hotel later, starred wide eyes at him, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the people around you hollered.

saying no to the man wasn't a hard decision, more a weekly job to do, so it came to a great shook when he asked you out a week after and you said yes — and from there love blossomed. you'd be the one to propose after the baby anyways.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

ten. ruin

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. uhm....... yeah.

warnings: swearing, phone sex

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“No you didn’t-”

“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”

“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”

“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”

“Did you leave?!”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 

You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”

“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 

“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”

“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 

“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 

“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.

“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”

“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”

You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”

You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.

But still, the question lingers.

“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 

You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.

“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”

You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“I know.”

“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”

“No,” you mutter. He laughs.

“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 

“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”

You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.

His name feels important.

The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 

“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”

Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.

Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.

“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”

“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”

“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.

“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.

“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.

“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.

“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”

You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”

“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Do what?”

“You know exactly fucking what.”

Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 

“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 

Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 

“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 

He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 

“You know I am, pretty girl.” 

“How long?”

“Since you said my name.”

You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.

“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.

He whines in response.

Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 

You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 

“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“

“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“

“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 

Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 

“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 

“Both.” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”

“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 

“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 

“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 

You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 

It would be rude not to reciprocate. 

You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.

“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 

“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.

“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 

You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”

“Shit.” 

You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 

Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.

But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 

You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 

Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 

Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—

“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 

You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”

“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 

Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 

He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”

Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 

The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 

“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  

You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.

So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.

“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”

He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.

He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 

He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 

“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 

His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 

“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”

“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”

“Oh, my God, I’m-”

“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”

“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”

“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”

It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.

By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 

Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.

You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! Could you do a Bodyguard!James Potter x reader where he is guarding her during a high profile event and something happens? With a bit of angst to fluff? If you’re comfortable of course! I hope you have a wonderful day, i’m new to your page and ADORED your bodyguard james. <3

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: guns, shooting

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You shift your stance a bit and have to bite down on a whimper. 

“I’m going to have to throw these shoes out after this,” you mutter to James. “I’m pretty sure there’s blood pooling around my toes.” 

“You wanna take them off?” he murmurs back, lips barely moving as he keeps his face in a mask of businesslike impassivity. 

You sigh. “I wish.” 

“You could. Just step out of them, no one’s looking over here.” 

It’s true. Every camera in the chamber is pointed to where your mom stands on the podium, her right hand raised as she takes her oath. As much as you hate coming to these things, you can’t ignore the kernel of pride shining behind your sternum. She’s waited so long for this day, dealt with so much opposition, and now she’s finally going to be able to enact some real change. You can keep up appearances for her. 

“I’d better not risk it,” you tell James. “With my luck, the second I do—” 

You’re on the ground before you even register the sound of glass shattering. James’ grip on your shoulder is harsh, almost painful, but the noise that follows has enough adrenaline spiking your bloodstream to forget about that. The loud, rapid popping of gunfire fills the chamber. 

James’ hand moves to clasp around your elbow, but you tear away from him, headed in the opposite direction. The podium is empty. Where’s your mom? Did they get her already? Is she hurt? Did she—

You’re not fast enough to outpace James, definitely not limping around in your heels, and he gets an arm around your waist, hauling you away from the center aisle. You can’t tell where the gunfire is coming from—who has the guns?—but he pushes your head down before you can look. A low buzzing burrows into your ears. You try again to go to where you last saw your mom, but James yanks you back to his side, a cutting “Stop” hissing past his lips. Any other time, a tone like that would have you stilling like a frightened bunny, but you know he’s not the danger here. 

When you don’t listen, he lifts you off the ground. The crowd is swarming, frantic and disorganized, but James maneuvers through it expertly, running down the hall until he finds an unlocked door. The bathroom door swings open for you, and James sets you down quickly, locking it before you have a second to recover. 

You lunge for the door anyway, only for twin bands to wrap around your middle. They pin your arms to your sides and press you securely to James’ front. 

“Stop. Stop it.” His tone is as hard as his grip, dispassionate to your struggling. “You cannot fight me when you’re in danger, understand?” 

“They’re not here for me,” you plead. Your voice is scratchy with desperation. 

“No, but I am. I’m here for you.” His hold tightens, but now it’s less a restraint than a comfort. You can feel his heavy breaths tickling past your ear. “Your mom has her own detail, okay? She made it out before we did, they probably have her somewhere safe.” 

Now you can hear your breathing too. Short, stilted pants that wheeze in and out of you. You think you might be shaking. 

“That’s enough,” James says gently, starting to lower you both to the ground. Your knees give easily, relinquishing your weight to his hold until he settles you both on the tiled floor. “That’s enough, alright? Can I let you go now?” 

You’re not sure you want him to anymore, but you nod. He slips out from behind you, checking the lock on the bathroom door and then removing his gun from the holster at his hip. The sight of it makes your trembling worsen. He checks something with it while murmuring to the people on the other end of his earpiece, convoluted jargon you’ve long since ceased paying attention to. 

“She’s fine,” he says after a minute. “Your mom. They got her into an office, and now we’re all just waiting for security to clear the building before we can go.” 

You drop your head to your knees, relief like a tidal wave washing over you. You hear James’ footsteps move back toward you before his big hand lands on your head. It smooths down your hair as he squats next to you. When you glance at his gun balanced on his knee, he catches the look. 

“I have to keep this out for now,” he says, looking you in your eyes like he’s making a promise, “but the safety’s staying on unless someone tries to come in here. Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod, still trying to get your breathing under control. 

James strokes your head again, his touch weighty and reassuring. The noise outside of the bathroom seems to be lessening, but you’re not sure how much sound is blocked by the door. There could be shooting still happening just past it, people hurt or dying in the halls. 

“I’m sorry for fighting you so hard,” you say quietly. 

James blows out a breath. “I get it,” he admits. “In those situations, it’s natural to freak out and head toward the person you want to keep safe.” He flashes you a little smile. “I’m lucky it’s already my job to do that.” You grimace back, but his expression grows serious again when he says, “You just have to keep your head, though, you know? The whole reason you and your mom have protection is to make sure someone else is already looking out for you. You don’t need to worry about her, you just need to trust me.” 

You look at him. His body is still taut, ready for a fight if one comes to him, but his expression is gentle. It’s easy to forget it’s his job to take care of you when he seems to do it so naturally. Caring emanates from James like it’s the core component of his soul. 

“I do trust you,” you tell him. 

His mouth slants, expression unbearably fond. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll work on those instincts, okay? I get that it’s not an easy adjustment to make.” 

“Have you ever had to do that? Run away from the person you cared about the most?” 

He shakes his head. “Like I said, I’m lucky. I always get to run towards you.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: Poisoned Cups

I hadn't adjusted well, at first. I don't think anyone could have. Being an elf sound cool, on paper. The better eye sight, the incredible hearing, the stamina. All sorts of perks right? But what they don't tell you, is that when your soul is human? When you get isekai'd by some divine oversight or fucker with a truck?

It doesn't adapt that well, to a new body. Your soul INSISTS you should still be human, with all the trappings, and throws a FIT, when you just.... aren't. So you end up with migraines. Eyes that swim in and out of focus. Wheezing, struggling, breathe. A body at war with itself.

The world was so loud. Too loud. I could hear EVERYTHING and it HURT. Couldn't breathe and THAT hurt. Was nauseated all the time, from my eyes refusing to focus properly. That too, hurt. All of it, pain. Just? Pain. Day after day, pain pain pain.

My poor parents were helpless. The doctors struggled.

But the King? HE could save me.

And he did.

He was younger then. Just barely into his rule. His Father having just stepped down. My parents, desperate, brought me before him. Waited in line for days. They didn't even know if he COULD do anything, were grimly prepared for him to say that sadly, nothing COULD be done. But? Instead? He looked me over, called for several old texts, looked again, then called upon the strength of the Throne.

My parents apparently started weeping the second I stopped.

All I remember is the pain going away. Being exhausted. A REALLY pretty elf man in a crown. Things getting... better, after that.

I was told that story often, as a child. It utterly transformed our household. From merely loyal citizens, to devote Loyalists. Speaking ill of the King in THIS house? Would now get you HURT. My parents had been convinced they were going to LOSE me. The King as far as they were concerned, saved my LIFE.

Which is why I didn't put anything together. Seeing as we were an "all King all the time" Sort of house. We had one(1) team and we were sticking to it. Permanently. His son? Eeeeh, maybe. We'd figure that out later. We didn't care to know. And I was too busy with school work to CHECK.

Which? Meant I didn't NOTICE? He looked? More and more... Otome Capture Target as time went on. Specifically, he looked kinda crown prince from "Dance of the Secret Forest! A True Love For Me?!" sort of Shaped. Which... gee, what ARE the odds? Especially given that so many OTHER things are named suspiciously similar or exactly the same to that game?

.........yeeeeeah. I decided not to take chances.

I looked that shit UP.

And wouldn't you know it? Protagonist-chan? Not there yet. But she SURE COULD BE! All the legends were EXACTLY what they should be. Forests and locations the same! PEOPLE the same! Oh HELL no. Good to know where NOT to be, I guess.

Not my circus, NOT my Otome Drama Monkeys.

I? Would be working for the KING. My family owed him a debt.

And when I graduated? I applied. Top of my class. I studied my ASS off. Could have gone anywhere. But I was aiming for the TOP. A debt to be repayed and frankly? Excellent job security on top of it! So filling busy work in dusty ass backrooms it was. Gotta start from the bottom, after all.

I exhausted them. Was honestly barely trying too at that point. They should see me TRYING to put my nose to the grindstone. Burn the midnight oil! Ha! HA, I say! Long elven lifespans slow you all down! I? Used to live in a capitalist hellscape! This is NOTHING.

I'm not even multi-tasking. It's not even LUNCH YET.

Did I get promoted? Yes. Do I worry my coworkers? Deeply! But shit needs doing and we don't have all day! There is a nation to run! Have some tea. Eat a turnover. Now~! Where are my fuckin documents~☆?

I get promoted again.

Then again.

Aaaaand again.

I'm pretty sure it's cause I scare people. Am FAST. Efficient. Willing to hunt my coworkers for SPORT, like a god damned bloodhound, if it means we get that one extra tax document that makes or breaks us. I have (and will again if necessary) climbed through people's fucking WALLS. Cause, honestly? If they wanted to stop me?

They should have warded the gods damned vents.

Fuckin casuals. Get on my level.

So, now? I am the baby. King's inner circle. And EVERYONE? Is damn near twice my age! And, granted, yes. It IS hilarious I still scare like half the people working under me... but come ON! You are elite government officials! Do BETTER! (Geez. At least my PARENTS couldn't be prouder.)

But... (and God damn it, why is there ALWAYS a "but"?) here's the thing. It? Took me a WHILE to get where I am now. Long enough, in fact, for our... Problem, to arrive. A Problem which is GOING to cast his Majesty's kingdom into chaos and turmoil, in fighting and divides. Religious upheaval. A PROBLEM, which? In the name of luuuuuv~?

Is going to get NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES involved.

And WHO do you think is going to have to deal with that? WHO will have to prevent all out WAR? Religious schisms? Ward off assassins in the night? Certainly not Mr. "But Daddy, I love her!". Oh no, HE gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his father's suffering! Make more trouble! (Fucker.)

But, hey! Maybe I should throw in with his SECOND son, right? The supporting character? He seems vastly more reasonable and emotionally more balanced doesn't he? Well educated, cautious, why, thoughtful even! Ha ha... yeah... he DOES seem that way, doesn't he?

SEEMS.

He Is Not. Little fucker is a SPECIAL flavor of batshit. Completely "wake to find him standing over you, in your LOCKED BEDROOM, asking if you want to see his new favorite knife" nutty puffs. Not sure which side of the family it comes from, to be honest. Disturbingly good at getting past my warding.

Or at least he WAS, until I got the King involved. Ha! Royal wards! You can't touch me! I sleep like a BABY now! The only people who can enter my rooms now? Are literally JUST me and the KING HIMSELF! How safe is that~‽

But for real... poor his Majesty, you know? It's not like he didn't TRY to be a good father. Take time he couldn't afford out of each day, to spend time with his sons. Insist on eating meals together so he could ask them about their interests, how each day had gone. Involved them where he safely could.

He's a somber man. A dignified one. But let NO ONE say, he is not a LOVING one.

And HOW do his children fucking reward him? Middle school love dramatics and MURDER ATTEMPTS IN THE NIGHT! Because, YES, I have found the disturbing murder board that the second prince has in his "secret" room. Right along his equally disturbing stalker board of ME.

I, obviously, told the King.

He did not look pleased.

Don't know if my new reality has, like, intensive therapy programs or something? But I hope for ALL our sakes, that the second Prince is at the winter palace getting HELP, instead of just? You know... plotting.

His Highness has a nasty tendency to plot, after all. But hey, his Majesty says not to worry about it? I choose to believe him. Concern myself with more immediate threats. Enjoy, no longer turning around to find some baby faced little creep with a hunter's stare, just... watching me. As I try to work. As I try to eat. Around corners, still as a statue, yet somehow a THREAT, in lonely and too empty corridors.

God fucking DAMN, his little "crush" was creepy!

If it weren't for his Majesty? I would have run and run FAR. But... but I? And you CAN NOT repeat this, okay? It's WILDLY inappropriate! A-And I SWEAR I'm never going to.. to ACT on it! I would NEVER. So...so PROMISE, okay?

....cause.... I may... MAY! Possibly! Just a LITTLE bit! Sorta, kinda, just a BIT? Have a TEENY? Little crush... on... his Majesty? Maybe???

YOU CAN'T TELL!

It's SO fucking inappropriate. Oh my GOD. I hate this so much!? Cause he's my BOSS! And old enough to be my DAD! I SHOULDN'T be so attracted to him, right?! Plus he's the KING! There's definitely a power imbalance there! How would that even WORK?! We would have no future! I don't know the first THING about how to BE royalty. And no one would accept me!

Not that I think I even have a CHANCE! Fuck no! I'm not THAT arrogant.

But, like? A girl can day dream. Fantasize, you know?

Which is why? Having his SON? Be a creepo stalker at me? Kinda the WORST. I've literally JUST discovered I'm into older men! Thanks! BEGONE, zygote! Also, your vibes are RANCID! No thanks! I hated that and am SO glad it's gone. Now? All I have to worry about? Is Protagonist-chan and the political SHIT SHOW she drags after her like trail of destruction.

Why is she involving foreign royalty? PLEASE stop involving foreign royalty! Dukes! Religious leaders! MILITARY LEADERS. Stop "Helen of Troy"-ing your ass through our nice, PEACEFUL, kingdom!!! What the ACTUAL FUCK!? This is NOT A THEME PARK.

I watch, vaguely horrified, as his Majesty finishes reading three (yes, count um! Fucking THREE!) different royal missives demanding three different women of legend, from three DIFFERENT legends, who coincidentally enough? Happen to ALL BE THE SAME PERSON. Fucking Protagonist-chan.

They were from long standing ALLIES.

We could not AFFORD to lose those.

And the FOURTH message? Oh, THAT? That, was from his SON! Mr. "But Daddy! I Love her!" HIMSELF! He wants permission to marry the random woman of unknown province he found in the woods! Could be a foreign spy! Could be a mad woman. Who CARES right? They're SO in love~

Enough to START A WAR OVER IT.

I skip the tasting cups and instead? Bring his Majesty a bottle of the strongest star wine I can find. The sort that could damn near eat through rocks and vaporizes in air if you pour it out. Pain killers too, for what HAS to be a killer headache. Then I hesitate. You know what? Fuck it. I grab a cart. Make a care package.

Paper, ink, the STRONG tea, that special occasions tea (in case he needs a reason to remember his will to live), some snacks, a few shawls in case he decides to work late...

It's worth it, to see the way his stressed face relaxs when I return. Eyes softening, corner of his mouth curling up in that tiny, secret, little smile. We can get through this. We WILL get through this. I may not be able to stand by his side, but? I can support him. Help.

So long as HE sits in this office, burning himself down to keep this nation warm, so too, will I.

Tea or booze, your Majesty?

"A blend, I think. Unfortunately, I fear it is going to be a long night for us both." He replies. His voice smooth and low, effortlessly filling the room. A lifetime of public speaking, ingrained so very deep. "You should pour yourself a cup as well, my dear. Sleep will be a long time coming, we will need both the calm and the clarity."

I rolled my borrowed tea cart to the side and got to work. Strong tea and stronger star wine. Certainly a... flavor. Fairly certain such a thing should be illegal. Pretty sure our healers are going to be appalled. But, oh well. Needs, must. One for me, one for him.

He held out a hand. It was a sweeping gesture of his arm, a gentle turn of his wrist. I could never get used to his casual... elegance. The beauty of him. Like a living art work. A dancer. As though he were an actor, striking a pose, about to consider the soul of the simple tea cup. I handed it over, gently and with as much elegance as I could.

It still felt clumsy in comparison.

Yet he still smiled, just slightly. In that way I had learned to spot. Tension dripping away from his shoulders like thawing ice. Running in little rivers like melt waters, as he sat back in his chair, half turning it to face me. A brief moment to relax. Before work begins again.

"Ah... completely vile. Thank you, dear. It's disgusting." He said dryly, catching me off gaurd, and making me damn near snort into my cup. "If it did not work so well? I would never consume this swill again. What a perfect waste of tea and wine. We should invite Yevault."

I laugh. A snirking, snorting, choked little thing into my cup. God, but I've been TRYING to laugh more elegantly. Hell, I've even practiced. But when he catches me off gaurd? I swear to God, I cackle and pop. Like some sort of deranged witch pig. Ow, my sinuses.

"Oh but that's right, Yevault is a healer, on the occasions he takes time from being an unbearable snob. He might actually make us rest, dear. Then where would we be?" His Majesty muses, taking another sip before grimacing at the taste.

I go to respond. Probably some quip about "preferably in bed" or "asleep". Only... only to find my tounge sluggish. My exhaustion mounting, not slipping away. The world has begun to sway. Just a little at first, then notable. My mouth... fuzzy? Prickly. W...what?

His Majesty has begun to frown. Delicately setting down his cup... cup? Something about... a cup... I have taken too long to respond. He rises. Strides in a few, urgent, steps over to where I lean. Against the edge of my assistants desk. Swaying~ swaying~ w-why is the ground... my tounge feels to big. Think? I've begone to drool?

Warm, big hands cup my face. Was slipping forward, to the side. Gonna fall? Not anymore. Up. Hi! Is the king. Hi King. I... I don't feel so good...

His eyes have gone focused and cold. Pretty. Crown begins to glow. Leaves. Gold and gold, a halo of light. From within and beyond him. Power of the throne. Oh... oh I was here before, wasn't I? My bones remember. Like the roots to his great tree, power seeping deeper and deeper into my body, finding imperfections to consume. So... so much LIGHT.

I can not look away.

"Poison, was it? How terribly banal. Do they think me so simple to kill?" There is scorn in his voice. Utter distain. But deep beneath, like the hidden embers of a forest fire, there is rage. "How dare they drag you into this. Bad enough they throw a FIT over some trouble making tart, now they get the innocent involved? What if I had not been paying attention? Or you had taken that tea where I could not see it? Unacceptable."

Like spreading branches, like antlers, the light spread. The hands on my face gentle even as his Majesty's face might as well have been carved from stone. I tried to protest, swallowing thinking past the still rolling nausea. It was my fault! The tasting cups exsist for a REASON. They're supposed to test for things like this. I got too comfortable.

"No." The word slammed down as about an absolute as any sentence CAN. A declaration from on high. The commandment of a king. "It takes far more then simple poisons or common blades to kill me. The power that flows through the Throne insures it. You do not have that luxury. You could have DIED."

"....might still yet."

The last bit, almost a confession, pressed to my brow as he leaned down to press his lips to my forhead. His grip tighter, as though to stop his hands from shaking. My joints were starting to hurt, like I had a nasty cold, and I was already starting to feel feverish. I was starting to drip sweat. Shit.

I tried to stay calm. But... but I was scared. What do I do? Your Majesty! What do I DO?!

"We are going back to my quarters. Work can be brought to me. You need to lay down." He decided after a long moment of deliberation. Something had shifted in his eyes. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clung to the only trustworthy source of comfort I knew, in the chaos of this moment. "I'm going to take care of you. I have you, dear. Just trust me, darling. I will fix this. I swear it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just put all of your trust in me, all right?

"Just come with me, dear. Everything will be all right."

"You can trust me."

[tender-rosiey]

mourn and want — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: angst version of gojo coming back so don’t say I didn’t warn y’a; also him saying my wife makes me giggle like HEHEEHE

satoru’s vision is blurry. he can’t see anyone except kenjaku and sukuna, though his thoughts immediately drift to you.

he can feel your cursed energy somewhere, but it’s so faint. it worries him so he quickly teleports to shoko and his students. his eyes strain as they frantically search for you, “where is y/n?”

most of them stay silent and he immediately jumps to the worst conclusion, but shoko doesn’t let him dwell on it for too long.

she lets out a sigh and it’s followed by a mutter, “follow me.”

she starts walking towards an abandoned building, probably a hospital, and satoru wordlessly walks after her. their footsteps echo throughout the deserted hallways, along with the sounds of water droplets hitting the ground every few seconds.

they finally arrive at a room and its door is noticeably cleaner than the rest. satoru speaks up, for the first time since they started walking, “is she here?”

shoko nods, and her face is solemn, “yeah, but…” she looks away from the moment, “she won’t make it. she will probably die in an hour or something.”

“can’t you do something? anything?”

“satoru, I tried, but whoever attacked her did irreversible damage,” she takes a deep breath, “the healing won’t even work so—I suggest you talk to her and get your moments. she has been asking for you ever she came out of that attack.”

with nothing else to add, shoko left, but not without patting satoru’s shoulder lightly.

he hums quietly then his hand reaches for the doorknob. he takes a deep breath and braces himself for what he will see. satoru is no stranger to death. in fact, he met it personally.

for some reason, though, he feels like yours will be the hardest to face and endure.

the door clicks and he pushes it lightly. his eyes fall on your resting figure, if resting could be used as a word with how in pain you look.

you’re breathing heavily and your hand is clutching your side. he closes the door behind him, a small grin on his face, “hey, pretty? missed me?”

your eyes peak open and you glance towards the door. a small smile appears on your face at the sight of your husband, “satoru…”

he chuckles and gets settled right beside you, “the one and only…how’re you feeling?”

a wheeze escapes your lips as you try to sit up, but satoru quickly—and gently—pulls you into his embrace.

now, you’re both on the ground with you cradled in his arms. you look up, “I feel like shit.”

“figured,” he smiles while caressing your cheek, “you look the part.”

after your small laugh, the both of you fall into silence. your hand is holding onto satoru’s. you take a moment to breathe then you mumble, “I don’t have much time left.”

his arms around you tighten just a bit, “don’t say that.”

“but it’s true.”

he bites on his lips to hold back his tears, “no, no, it’s not—you can’t do this to me,” a shaky breath escapes his lips, “we still have a future together, a daughter to raise.”

you weakly reach put for his face and make him look at you. even with his teary eyes, he manages to compose himself quickly. you sigh in content, “at least, she will have you, her strong papa.”

“why can’t she have her mom as well? why are you giving up so easily?”

“I tried a lot, but it wasn’t and will never be enough—everyone tried!”

the tears you’ve tried to suppress are falling freely, “but it hurts so much, ‘toru! I can’t go on living with this pain!”

satoru is stunned to his core before he swiftly recovers and pulls you closer, doing his best to comfort you, “shh, I am sorry,” he kisses your temple, “I didn’t mean it,” your cheeks, “I am sorry.”

your arms weakly wrap around his shoulder as you sob into his chest, “I don’t want to die! I want to be with you! I wa—want to wake up to you by my side!”you’re cut off by your sob, “I want to raise our daughter together! I want to hear her sweet giggles every day—satoru, I don’t want to go yet!”

“I know,” he buries his face in your hair, “I don’t want you to go either.”

his hand is rubbing your back while you cry and wail. he presses feather-like kisses to your head, before he speaks, “I—…I want to hear you scold me more. I want to see your messy hair every morning. I want to see you team up on me with our daughter. I want to feel your love and give you mine every—every single day.”

you pull away slightly and you lock eyes. he isn’t crying, but he can’t deny the lump in his throat nor the pit in his stomach. you peck his lips gently and rest your forehead on his, “promise me that you will take care of her.”

his thumbs wipe at your tears before he nods, “yeah,” then whispers, “I promise.”

his face is still so close to your own as your body relaxes slightly in his hold. with a small sigh, you murmur against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too—I love you so much,” he croaked.

“you better,” you smile before closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

your body goes limp, and satoru immediately hugs you closer, tighter. your face is buried in his chest while he repeatedly and frantically kisses the top of your head, tears of his own dripping to the ground.

his body envelopes your own like he’s fearful of the fact that something will take you away, yet again.

he doesn’t hear the door open at first.

his blood-shot eyes eventually travel to the person who entered, shoko. her voice is shaky as she speaks her name before she sighs, “I need to take her—“

“no.”

his eyes focus on your face once again, “I didn’t get to mourn all who passed—and I will be damned if I don’t mourn for my own wife.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[fatecantstopme]

Take Your Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: What happens after you lose the love of your life?

Warnings: character death, a lot of talk about death, grieving, childbirth, single parenting, cursing, use of pet names, mentions of smut/implied smut.

A/N: This is insanely long and some parts are painfully sad, but it's a beautiful story of love and family that persists even beyond the grave. There's a lot of POV switching between Dean and reader. I hope you love it as much as I do.

“The two of you are like rabbits,” Sam groaned. “I swear you could hear it outside the bunker.”

Dean laughed heartily. “It’s not my fault she’s so damn hot.”

You blushed and buried your face in your hands. “Sorry, Sammy. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I’ve lost the ability to pretend I didn’t hear you two.”

You laughed. “What can I say? He’s good at what he does.”

“Ughhhh,” Sam groaned as he left the kitchen.

You leaned into Dean with a smile. “Maybe we should try to keep it down, for Sam’s sake.”

Dean seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, babe. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve some enjoyment—celebration, even. We beat Chuck, Jack’s in charge, there seems to be less monsters running around…and somehow we’re still alive to see it.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

“Plus,” Dean leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “my wife is the sexiest woman on earth. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

You laughed warmly and playfully smacked his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned. “But you love me.”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. “Very much.”

**********

“It’s kinda nice to be on a regular old monster hunt,” Dean said with a smile.

“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” you asked.

“Definitely not. I’ve missed it too,” Sam responded.

“Vampires,” Dean mumbled. “I do love killing vampires.”

You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes.

The three of you grabbed your machetes and headed towards the barn. You knew this was where the vamps were bedding down, but you weren’t sure how many of them were there.

Dean shot you a grin before busting in the barn door, shocking several vampires into action. Dean let out a weird holler of excitement and dove into the fray. You and Sam exchanged glances before jumping in.

Everything was going well. It was a pretty easy hunt, to be honest. You’d just beheaded the last one when you heard Sam yell your name from behind you.

You could hear the terror in his voice and when you spun around, you came face to face with your greatest fear.

“Dean!” You screamed as you ran across the barn. You grabbed his face when you reached him, tears already streaming down both of your faces. “No…” you whispered.

He coughed and wheezed softly. You could see the piece of metal sticking out of his chest and you knew he was dying. You’d always known the life was dangerous—that any of you could die young, but things were finally good. You thought you’d actually get to grow old together.

Sam stood beside you, just as devastated as you were. “Dean, please…”

“It’s okay Sammy. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You inhaled sharply, tears blurring your vision. “Please don’t go,” you begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay—you’re gonna be fine.”

You shook your head rapidly.

“Yes you are, sweetheart. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re gonna mourn, but you’re gonna keep going. You’re not the kind of woman to ever give up, so don’t start now.”

You stared at him, letting his words wash over you, knowing they would be some of his last.

“Take care of each other,” Dean said to both of you.

“We will,” Sam responded, emotion clouding his voice.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

You whimpered softly before standing on your toes to kiss him gently. “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

He smiled, but you could see the light fading from his eyes. “One more thing, baby.”

“Yes?”

“‘Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while.’”

You let out a breathy chuckle. He would never admit it, but The Princess Bride was one of his favorite movies. He’d always loved that line in particular and he’d said it to you on your wedding day instead of “till death do us part”.

“Wait for me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek affectionately.

He reached out a hand and brushed the tears from your cheek. “Take your time,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear.

You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see the moment he died—you couldn’t bear it. When his hand slipped from your face and you heard Sam let out a pained sob, you knew he was gone.

You finally looked up, and the tears began to fall in earnest. You’d never felt a pain like this before—not even when he’d died in the past. This time was different. This time was final. Dean was dead—and a large piece of your heart went with him.

**********

Dean’s POV:

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was surprised by how bright it was--I was pretty certain it had been night only moments ago.

"Hey Dean," a familiar voice said from behind me.

I spun around with a smile on my face and immediately embraced the man in front of me. "Bobby!"

Bobby returned my hug. "It's good to see you, kid."

Seeing Bobby made me realize where I was and the smiled slipped from my face.

He patted me gently on the shoulder. "Yeah, it's tough at first."

"(Y/N/N) and Sammy..." I whispered. "I left them."

Bobby nodded sadly. "I know, kid, I know. It's gonna hurt for a while, but they're both tough people. They'll be okay."

Tears blurred my vision at the thought of my wife and little brother mourning my death. I hated the idea of leaving them all alone, especially (Y/N). I knew Sammy would be okay--he always was. But (Y/N)? I'd made her a promise--I promised her forever. Then I went and got myself killed...leaving her to put the pieces of her life back together--a life we were supposed to share.

"I'm worried about (Y/N/N)," I whispered. "I can't stand the idea of her being alone. And the not knowing how she is? That might kill me--figuratively, I guess."

"I know the feeling, but I do have some good news for you. Things are obviously different up here, thanks entirely to Jack."

Bobby gestured to a building off in the distance and I realized it was the Roadhouse.

"A lot of us hang out here together--Ellen, Jo, Ash, Charlie, Pamela," Bobby said. "Also, we now have a new option--the ability to check in on the people we left behind. It's how I knew you'd be coming here."

"Wait--I can check in on (Y/N)? And Sam? Like I can see them?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, anytime you want. The only thing is, time moves differently up here, so you'll probably only catch glimpses of their lives over time."

"I'll take anything at this point. How do I do it?"

"You just picture the person clearly in your mind and you'll be able to see and hear what's happening in their lives at that moment. Plus, if they call out to you--like a prayer--you'll hear them."

"So all I have to do is picture (Y/N/N) and I'll see her?"

Bobby nodded. "Just remember, you're not gonna see the moment you left...it's probably been a couple weeks at this point."

I nodded. "I wanna see her."

Bobby patted my shoulder again. "Take your time. I'll be in the Roadhouse. Come on in when you're done--I'm sure there's a few people who wanna see you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

I watched him walk away for a few moments before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I pictured my wife's beautiful face in my mind with everything I had. Within moments, I was transported to a room I knew very well--our bedroom in the bunker.

(Y/N) was laying on our bed, wearing her favorite flannel of mine, and clutching a pillow close to her chest. I could tell she'd been crying for some time and it broke my heart.

There was a knock at the door and Sam's voice called out to her, asking if she was okay.

"I'm alright, Sammy," she answered softly.

"Do you want dinner?"

She sniffled softly. "I'm not really hungry, but thank you."

I heard Sam sigh quietly. "Okay, let me know if you change your mind."

I turned my attention back to (Y/N) just as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without you," she whispered. "I thought we'd have more time."

I could feel the tears stinging my own eyes as I watched her cry softly.

"You promised me, Dean. You promised me forever," she whimpered. "I shouldn't be angry with you--it's not like you left me on purpose. But I can't help it, Dean. I'm so angry, and bitter, and heartbroken, and so...alone."

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished talking, her words cutting into me like a knife.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, wishing like hell she could hear me. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I needed everything to be okay--I needed her to be okay.

She sighed quietly, bringing my attention back to her. "I just love you so much, Dean, and I--I miss you." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know I'll be okay. It'll take some time, and I'll never stop missing you, but I will be okay."

I didn't realize how badly I'd needed to hear her say those words. My heart still ached, but her words helped heal it just a little. "I love you so much, beautiful--always."

She smiled up at the ceiling as if she'd heard me, but I knew that was impossible. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss towards the ceiling.

I smiled as I blew one back. She'd always blown me kisses when I was alive and I was glad she was continuing the habit.

I watched her curl back up on her side and sigh softly as she pulled the pillow close to her. I stayed just long enough for her to fall asleep before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"SAM!" you screamed loudly. "SAMMY!"

You heard his loud footsteps echoing down the bunker hallway as he raced towards you. He appeared in your doorway slightly out of breath and more than a little terrified.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

Your hands were shaking as you held up the item in your hand.

Sam looked at it in confusion. As you watched, you saw the realization dawn on him and he gasped.

"Wait, (Y/N)--are you--are you pregnant?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks. "This is the third one I've taken...they all came up positive."

"Oh my god," Sam mumbled. "You're gonna have a baby."

You stared at him in mild terror. "I'm gonna have a baby," you confirmed.

Sam stared at you, clearly unsure what he should do. After a few moments, he grabbed you and held you tightly. You leaned into his hug, more grateful than ever to have him in your life.

"We should take you to see a doctor. I'm sure Eileen would come too."

You nodded against his chest, the tears on your cheeks wiping off on his shirt.

"We're gonna help you, (Y/N). You won't be going through this alone. I promise."

You stepped back and offered him a small smile. "Thank you, Sammy."

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been a couple days since I'd last checked on (Y/N), so I decided to take a little time to myself to pay her a visit.

I closed my eyes, envisioning (Y/N/N)'s face clearly in my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I saw (Y/N) sitting in the bunker library, reading a book.

Her back was to me, so I moved closer to see over her shoulder, trying to see what she was reading. I expected it to be one of the novels she was always reading, but this appeared to be one of those self-help books. She wasn't the type of person to read self-help books, so I was pretty surprised.

Before I could move around to see her from the front, Sam came into the room carrying an absurd amount of food. I looked at the food on one of the plates and even I had to admit it looked gross. Some sort of burger, but with what appeared to be greek yogurt on it...and mustard?

Sam sat the plate down in front of (Y/N) and she clapped her hands in delight. "Looks delicious!"

Sam looked at her with a slightly grossed-out look on his face and chuckled lightly. "I felt disgusting making it and I don't think I can watch you eat it," he teased.

She laughed and took a big bite of the sandwich, a groan of pleasure slipping from her lips. "Oh my god, that's so good."

Sam laughed heartily. "These pregnancy cravings are nasty."

She giggled, but I missed her response because I was too focused on what Sam had just said...pregnancy cravings? I looked at the book (Y/N) had sat on the table beside her and saw the title "Parenting 101".

I finally got a good look at my wife and noticed her round belly and I nearly passed out--if I could even pass out. I thought I was about to hyperventilate and my shock must have pushed me out of my trance--sending me straight back to heaven.

I nearly ran--okay, I did run--all the way to the Roadhouse, bursting in the door, out of breath and panicky.

"Hey easy there, kiddo," Ellen said as she stepped forward to check on me.

"(Y/N)'s pregnant," I practically yelled, shocking every person in the room.

Bobby looked up at me from the beer he was drinking with a look of shock on his face. Ellen had been patting my back, but now she was frozen in place.

"Is it--I mean, could it be yours?" Ellen asked gently.

"I--I don't know," I mumbled. "I have no idea how long I've been dead."

"Ash!" Ellen yelled.

The man in question appeared almost instantly. "Yo!"

"How long has Dean been dead?"

"Uhhh...hold on." Ash started typing away on his laptop. Two minutes later he answered, "A little over six months."

Bobby had gotten up from his seat and came over to help Ellen escort me to a chair. "Have a seat, son. Just breathe."

"Looks like you're gonna be a father," Ellen said gently.

"I'm--how--I--" words were not coming to me easily. I didn't know how to feel or what to think--all I knew was my wife was pregnant and I wasn't there to support her.

The more I thought about it, the sadder I became. I wouldn't be there for the birth, wouldn't get to hold (Y/N)'s hand through it all...I would never meet my child. My wife was all alone, doomed to the life of a single parent all because I was careless enough to die too soon.

"At least she has Sam," I whispered lowly.

Ellen was rubbing comforting circles on my back and Bobby squeezed my shoulder.

"I need to talk to her," I said suddenly. "How can I talk to her?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't, Dean. I'm sorry, but that's just not possible."

Tears stung my eyes and I stood up abruptly. "I think I just need to be alone," I mumbled.

I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back as I left the Roadhouse and began to mindlessly wander, unsure of where I was going, but certain there was a destination.

**********

"You can do it, (Y/N). Just breathe," Sam said calmly.

"You tell me to breathe one more time, Winchester, and I'll kill you," you hissed.

Eileen looked up at Sam with a small smirk. "I think she's serious," she said.

Sam quickly signed 'I'm just trying to help.'

Eileen chuckled. 'Why don't you go get something to eat. I think that would be helpful.'

You let out a groan of pain and Sam's eyes widened. "Okay...I'll go do that."

Eileen shook her head and moved forward to grab your hand. "Men," she mumbled.

You laughed lightly before another contraction hit you. "Fuck," you groaned.

The nurse gently patted your leg. "You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing."

You squeezed the hell out of Eileen's hand, which got her attention. "Labor is hell--don't have kids."

She laughed. "I'm sure Sam will want one or two, especially after meeting his niece."

"Adopt," you ground out as another contraction hit you.

She gently brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping the sweat off your forehead in the same motion.

You were beyond grateful for the two of them, even if you couldn't express it in that moment.

"Dean, you son of a bitch," you growled. "This is all your fault!"

You didn't mean it of course, it was more a heat of the moment thing. You missed him terribly and the pain of his absence had never been greater.

**********

Dean's POV:

In the middle of my walk, I heard someone scream my name. I paused, listening for any other sound.

"This is all your fault!"

I knew immediately it was (Y/N)'s voice and I went to her without a second thought.

I was shocked to find myself standing in a hospital room, my beautiful wife lying on the bed, clearly in pain. I stepped farther into the room when I heard (Y/N/N) whimper softly. Eileen was on the other side of the bed, squeezing her hand and gently brushing her hair back to calm her.

I was desperate to grab her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't wrong--I was the one who got her pregnant, but I couldn't be there to help her through the birth of our child. It broke my heart to see her in such pain, especially knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's time to push again," the nurse said softly.

(Y/N) let out a low grunt of pain as she leaned forward to push with all her strength. Eileen continued holding her hand and I watched her face tighten in discomfort as (Y/N) squeezed it.

Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I started talking to her. "I'm right here, baby," I said softly. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

Sam suddenly came into the room, looking concerned, but also a little terrified. "How you doin' (Y/N/N)?"

She shot daggers at my little brother and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Obviously not great, Samuel," she growled.

Eileen chuckled and gestured to Sam to go back out in the hallway. "We'll call you in when the baby comes."

Given the fact that Sam's face was a little green, I had to agree it was best for him to be out in the hall.

My attention was drawn back to (Y/N) when she let out a soft cry of pain.

"You're doing so great, (Y/N)," the nurse said. "Keep pushing, honey."

She continued pushing and even though she was clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, I couldn't help but think she was so beautiful and powerful in that moment. I'd never seen a stronger woman in all my life.

"She's crowning!" the doctor called. "Give me a really good push."

(Y/N) groaned in pain as she pushed, cutting the circulation off in Eileen's hand with the strength of her squeeze.

"That's it, one more!"

(Y/N) let out one more agonized groan before collapsing back against the mattress. As soon as she did, I heard the loud crying of a newborn baby--our newborn baby.

"You did so well, honey," the nurse said. "So, so, well. I'll clean her up and let you hold her, okay?"

(Y/N) nodded with a weak smile, eyes meeting Eileen's moist ones. 'You did amazing,' she signed.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered.

The nurse brought a little bundle over and handed it to my wife. "Here's your mama."

(Y/N)'s arms wrapped around the sweet bundle, holding her close to her chest. "Hi, little one," she murmured sweetly. "Welcome to the world."

I leaned over to get a good view of my daughter. "Good job, mama," I whispered.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered.

I couldn't help but agree, she was perfect.

"What are we gonna name this sweet girl?" the nurse asked.

(Y/N) looked up with tearful eyes. "Charlie," she answered. "Her name is Charlie."

Tears filled my eyes, emotion overwhelming me. (Y/N) had loved Charlie has much as I did, so I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd want to honor her memory like this.

"That's a lovely name. Do you want to give little Charlie a middle name?"

At that moment, Sam came back in the room, a teary smile warming his features. He entered the room fully and came to the side of the bed to get a better view of his niece.

(Y/N) looked up at him and smiled. "MaryEllen," she answered. "Charlie MaryEllen Winchester."

Sam choked back tears as he leaned forward to place a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead and then to Charlie's. "I think that's a perfect name."

She smiled. "Me too."

The nurse smiled as she wrote down the name on the form in her hands. "Okay, sweetie, did you want to put a name down for the father?"

(Y/N)'s face dropped slowly and it made my heart ache. "Yes. His name was Dean--Dean Winchester."

The nurse nodded and jotted it down on her form. "I'll go file this and be back in a few minutes."

Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she stared at our little girl. "I wish Dean was here," she mumbled.

Sam and Eileen exchanged sad looks. "I know, (Y/N/N)," Sam said gently. "So do I."

"I'm right here, baby," I whispered. "I'm always right here."

"She's perfect, isn't she?" (Y/N) said softly, changing the subject.

"She really is," Eileen confirmed.

I wanted to stay, but I couldn't bear to see my daughter and not hold her. It was making my chest ache in an unimaginable way.

I was about to make my exit when (Y/N) cast a glance to the ceiling and whispered, "I love you, Dean." She blew me a kiss and I couldn't help but smile.

"I love you both, baby. So damn much," I murmured before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"Do babies ever sleep?" you grumbled as you stumbled into the kitchen after a very long and sleepless night.

Sam looked up from his coffee with a small smile. "She will eventually," he answered. When you shot him a glare, he slid his coffee towards you. "You need this more than I do."

Your expression softened. "Thanks." You took a sip, sighing gratefully as you sat at the table.

"Eileen with Charlie?"

You nodded. "She's so good with her."

Sam smiled. "I know."

You took a deep breath before saying something you'd been thinking for a while. "I think it's time for me to move out."

"What?" Sam asked in shock.

"The bunker's no place to raise a baby, Sam. I think it's time I find somewhere else to live."

He looked sad, but he nodded his head in understanding. "As much as I hate for you to leave, I understand why you need to."

You smiled tearfully. "Everywhere I look, I see Dean. His memory is infused in these walls and I love it, but it hurts--it hurts in a way I can't explain. Charlie and I need a fresh start--a real home."

Sam got up and gave you a warm hug. "Just don't go too far, okay? We need you both in our lives."

"I actually talked to Donna last week...she asked me to move in with her."

"That would be great! I'd feel better if you weren't alone, so I love the idea of you staying with Donna."

"It would just be for a little while, until I figure out what we should do for our future."

"You know I'll support you, (Y/N), in whatever you choose to do."

"I know, Sammy. You're the best uncle Charlie could ever have."

**********

Dean's POV:

When I arrived back in heaven, I found myself in a place I didn't recognize. I guess I'd kept walking mindlessly while I was checking in on (Y/N)...if that's even possible.

"Hello Dean," a familiar voice said behind me.

I turned around in surprise. "Jack?"

Jack smiled at me. "It's good to see you, Dean."

I returned the smile. "It's good to see you too."

"I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I...I did?"

"Rather, you wanted to talk to (Y/N), which is something you would need to discuss with me."

"Bobby said it's not possible."

"He's correct. That's not something that has ever been done, but I suppose this is a special circumstance."

"It is?"

"You've saved the world selflessly so many times it's truly hard to keep track. Both (Y/N) and your brother have done so as well. As such, I believe you are owed something in return."

"I thought my reward was getting into heaven."

Jack smiled. "Perhaps initially, but this would be a reward specifically from me."

"Are you saying I could talk to (Y/N)? I mean, really talk to her?"

Jack nodded. "It would be a one-time thing, but it would allow you to properly say goodbye to her--and to Sam. Plus, I think you deserve the opportunity to meet your daughter."

"How long would I have?"

"I can give you an hour."

I nodded eagerly. "Please."

Jack smiled and reached out his hand, putting two fingers to my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a very familiar place. I looked around the bedroom (Y/N) and I had shared in the years since we'd discovered the bunker and I couldn't help but smile.

(Y/N) was curled up on the bed, reading a book, and she hadn't noticed me yet. I cleared my throat, getting her attention, and nearly ended up with a knife embedded in my chest as she threw it across the room with shocking accuracy.

"Woah! Baby, take it easy! It's me!"

She grabbed another knife from the bedside table and held it out in front of her. "Who the hell are you?" she growled.

"It's me, sweetheart."

"That's impossible. We burned your body."

"I know you did--listen, baby, I don't have much time. Jack sent me."

She paused, knife lowering slightly. "Jack sent you?"

I nodded. "Run whatever tests you need, babe, but it's me. It's really me."

She took a step towards me, then moved with surprising speed, tossing holy water at my face and pressing the silver knife against my skin.

"Dean?" she whimpered softly, dropping the knife to the floor.

"It's me, beautiful."

She said my name again before slamming her lips against mine in a hungry kiss. I kissed her back and my arms wrapped around her to pull her closer. I couldn't even express how much I'd missed this feeling.

When she broke the kiss, I saw tears in her eyes and I knew the look on her face was reflected on mine.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

"How is this possible?"

"Jack sent me down here to say a proper goodbye--he said I deserved it."

She smiled and caressed my face. "How long do we have?"

"He gave me an hour."

She nodded. "Then we have no time to waste."

She pulled me even closer to her, kissing me with more passion than before. I knew what she wanted by the way she held me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it just as much.

I pulled her down onto the bed with me, ridding both of us of our clothes as quickly as possible. I held her close to me as we made love, not wanting to forget a single moment.

She whispered my name against my skin as she came around me, repeating the sound as she came down from her high. She held me tightly as I found my release, my teeth nipping at her pulse point to stay quiet.

We laid there quietly in each other's arms for a few minutes, but we both knew we didn't have a lot of time. I sighed softly as I dragged myself out of the bed to grab a washcloth to clean her up before we tugged our clothes back on.

Suddenly, (Y/N) seemed to realize something and yelled, "Oh my god! Oh my god, you don't know."

"Know what, sweetheart?"

"I--you--we...do you wanna meet your daughter?" she whispered.

I smiled warmly. "Little Charlie? I'd love to meet her."

Surprise lit up her pretty face. "You--you know?"

"Another gift from Jack--everyone in heaven is able to check in on the people they love down here. So I've been keeping an eye on you and Sam."

Tears filled her eyes again, and she couldn't formulate a verbal response. Instead she wrapped me in another hug and placed a soft kiss to my lips.

"I hear you when you talk to me too, ya know."

"You do?"

"I do. Anytime you call out to me, I can hear it."

She smiled warmly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Dean."

"I can tell you it makes me incredibly happy."

She took a deep breath and shook her head, as if to shake off the intense emotions she was feeling. She turned away from me, walking over to the crib behind her. She reached in and scooped up our daughter before walking over to me.

"Do you wanna hold her, baby?"

I nodded, emotion clouding my vision. "I'd love to."

She slipped Charlie into my arms and I fell in love instantly. I didn't know I could feel this way about someone. I held my baby girl close to my chest and stared at her beautiful, peaceful sleeping face.

"She's so perfect, (Y/N/N)."

"She really is," she whispered as she leaned against my shoulder. "I'm so happy to get to have this moment with you."

I looked over at her with a soft smile. "Me too, sweetheart."

Charlie opened her eyes at the sound of our voices and made a cute little cooing sound that warmed my heart instantly. She reached one of her little hands up towards my face and I moved my hand towards her. She wrapped her fingers around one of mine and cooed again.

"Hi, princess," I whispered. "Aren't you just the most beautiful girl?"

(Y/N/N) chuckled softly and kissed my shoulder.

"You're gonna look just like your mama. I can tell. Hopefully you get her brain too."

"And your daddy's bravery and loyalty."

I smiled at her and she returned my expression. "Oh and her name? Perfect."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, baby. I love it."

"I wanted to honor your best friend and the two women who helped make you the incredible man you are."

I leaned down to her and kissed her again. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Dean."

We spent several more minutes in silence together, just looking at our beautiful baby--the baby we created together.

"We should go wake Sam," (Y/N) said softly.

"He'd kill me if I didn't see him too."

"He might kill me too," she teased.

She went to the door and gestured for me to follow. I followed her down the hall to Sam's room and waited as she knocked.

"(Y/N/N)? You okay?" Sam asked as he opened the door.

"I have a surprise." She stepped to the side to allow me to come into the doorway.

Sam's jaw dropped in shock. (Y/N) reached out and pulled Charlie from my arms and addressed Sam. "It's really him, Sammy."

"Dean?"

I nodded and my little brother practically tackled me in a hug.

(Y/N) smiled at the scene in front of her. She'd never expected to get another chance to say goodbye to me and she knew Sam needed this as much as she did.

"How are you here?" Sam asked as he finally let me go.

"A little favor from Jack--just for an hour. I'm here to say goodbye properly and to meet my baby girl."

Sam seemed to remember (Y/N) and Charlie's presence and he turned his attention to them. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't think any of us do," she said gently.

"That's not entirely accurate," I said softly. "I'd been thinking about what I would say if I could talk to you both."

I turned my attention to Sam first. "Sammy, I just want you to be happy. I want you to live a good, full life--the kind of life you always dreamed of. You deserve to be happy and I really couldn't ask for anything more than that."

As I finished addressing Sam, I heard Jack's voice from behind me. "Dean? It's time."

I turned to him and pleaded softly, "Just a couple more minutes to say goodbye to (Y/N)...please."

Jack nodded and took a step back to allow me to finish.

"Dean?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Your turn," I said gently as I reached for Charlie, pulling her into my arms with a smile. "Now you better be a good girl, you hear me? You treat your mama with honor and respect. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her as your mother, but I hope someday you realize it...and I hope you know just how much I love you. I'll always watch over you, little one. I promise." I placed a gentle kiss to her little forehead and she stirred happily. "Sammy, can you hold your niece for me?"

Sam nodded and took Charlie from my arms, too emotional to say anything else. He just clapped me on the shoulder and nodded--it was all I needed to understand what he couldn't say.

"Your turn, baby," I whispered as I took a step towards my wife.

"I'm not ready," she whimpered.

"Me neither, sweetheart, but here it goes." I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close to me. She looked up at me with teary eyes and I took a deep breath before continuing. "You are the light of my life and I am so honored to have been loved by you all these years. I would do anything to be able to stay with you, but we both know that's not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean I won't be with you...I'll always be with you, sweetheart, even if it's only in your memories and your heart."

She sniffled and tried to smile a little. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before continuing.

"I want you to keep living, (Y/N). I need you to keep going--to fight for the life you and our daughter deserve. I'm so proud of everything you and I have accomplished together and I can't wait to see what amazing things you do with the rest of your life. I love you, baby, and I'll never stop."

She closed her eyes and nodded, tears slipping past her lids. She opened them back up and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. "I'll love you forever, Dean Winchester," she whispered against my lips.

I kissed her deeply, pouring everything I had into the kiss. I needed her to know exactly how much I loved her and how badly I would miss her.

After what felt like both eternity and not nearly long enough, we separated. "I've gotta go, beautiful," I whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

I kissed her lips again, then her forehead, before pulling away from her. I smiled at my brother, who returned the expression in kind. I touched my daughter's cheek and turned away before I lost the nerve to walk to Jack's side.

"Jack?" (Y/N) called.

Jack's attention went to her and he smiled gently.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

"Keep him out of trouble," she said lightly with a small smile.

Jack chuckled softly. "I don't think even I can do that."

I turned back to look at my family one last time and I couldn't help but go back to give (Y/N) one last kiss. "Goodbye my love," I murmured.

"I'll see you later, Dean," she said gently. "This isn't forever."

I held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Take your time, baby. Take your time."

I pulled away from her and walked away, refusing to look back--knowing if I did, it would break my heart. I looked at Jack and said softly, "I'm ready."

He nodded and touched my forehead just as he had before. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't help but smile as I stood outside of the Roadhouse. I knew I would never be whole as long as (Y/N) and I were apart, but I felt so much better knowing she was safe, happy, and loved...that she would never give up, that she would keep living.

**********

Almost three years had passed since you'd said goodbye to Dean. It had been an eventful time--and a deeply emotional three years. You couldn't begin to express how much you missed him, but it comforted you to know he was okay and could check in on you whenever he liked.

You'd moved into Donna's house and you would be forever grateful for her compassion, kindness, and friendship--and for her help with Charlie. Raising a child on your own wasn't easy, but you were blessed with a chosen family who would never let you down.

On this particular night, you were curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling as you so often did. You spoke to Dean, telling him how much you missed him and updating him on Charlie's life.

"I can't believe she's already three," you murmured. "She has your eyes, you know--the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen."

You sighed. "There are moments...moments when she looks up at me and I swear I'm looking into your eyes. I just have this feeling she's going to be so much like you, even if she looks more like me."

You chuckled before continuing. "I hope she's strong and brave like you, and also kind and loyal like you. I hope she loves as passionately as you did and I hope she never has to wonder her worth--or how much we love her."

You'd just finished speaking when you heard a soft whimper at your door a second before it opened. Charlie stepped through it, eyes teary.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream," she whispered.

You pulled the blankets back and invited her into your bed. The little girl curled up against you with her head on your shoulder. You rubbed her back soothingly and asked her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she whispered fearfully.

**********

Dean's POV:

I'd been listening to (Y/N) talk to me when Charlie suddenly appeared in the room, telling her mother she'd had a nightmare. I watched as (Y/N) invited her to come sleep in her bed and ask her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she'd whispered.

"A monster?" (Y/N) asked. "What kind of monster, baby?"

"He was big and hairy and he had claws and red eyes and he was really scary," Charlie rambled. "He came out of my closet and tried to hurt me."

I watched (Y/N) pull her a little closer, holding her tighter than before. She kissed the top of Charlie's head and promised her she was safe.

"No monster is going to hurt you, little one," she reassured our daughter. "Do you know why?"

Charlie looked up at her, bright green eyes filled with fear as she shook her head.

(Y/N) smiled at her warmly. "Because you're a Winchester. And do you know what monsters fear the most, sweetheart?"

Charlie again shook her head.

"Winchesters," (Y/N) whispered. "Your daddy and your Uncle Sammy made sure of that. No monster would dare try to hurt you."

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Really," (Y/N) confirmed. "Besides, I'm here to protect you and so is your Aunt Donna. I will always keep you safe, Charlie. Always."

Charlie seemed pleased by this, a little smile appearing on her face. "You promise?"

(Y/N) smiled and kissed her on the head. "I promise, little one."

Charlie nestled in closer to her mother and sighed contentedly. (Y/N) stroked her hair and began to sing softly, the sound more soothing than anything she'd said thus far.

I watched my beautiful wife comforting our daughter in a way my father had never comforted us when we were afraid. (Y/N) made Charlie feel safe and protected and I knew she would defend her with her life--just as I would have done.

I stayed long enough to hear (Y/N) sing all the words to 'Let It Be', her favorite Beatles song. It reminded me of when I was young and my mother sang her favorite, 'Hey Jude'.

I wished I was there for them both--to comfort and protect the way a father and a husband should. But I knew the people I had left behind would always be there for my girls, and that had to be enough.

By the time (Y/N) finished singing, Charlie had fallen asleep. She looked so peaceful it warmed my heart. (Y/N) smiled up at the ceiling and blew a kiss my way--her way of closing the conversation.

I returned to heaven, pleased with the knowledge the people I loved most were safe and happy. I couldn't ask for anything more.

**********

"Charlie MaryEllen Winchester!" you yelled as your daughter ran across the backyard of Sam and Eileen's house.

You heard her contagious giggle and you shook your head. "This child..." you mumbled as Sam came up beside you.

"She's a lot like her dad."

"So is yours," you teased as you nodded towards little Dean as he chased Charlie throughout the yard.

"I feel like naming him after Dean should have been a warning."

You laughed. "He's got great parents, so I wouldn't worry about him."

Sam slung an arm around you and tugged you into his side. "Charlie's got a pretty great mom too."

You smiled up at him and laid your head against him. "I can't believe she's six."

"Neither can I," Sam admitted. "And Dean's three? When the hell did that happen?"

"No idea."

"Kids!" Eileen called from the doorway. "Dinner!" The kids ran into the house and Eileen gestured at the two of you. "That means you too!"

You laughed. "How does she put up with us?"

"She's a saint."

"Amen."

After dinner, the five of you gathered in the living room to play board games. Halfway through a game of Monopoly, Charlie looked up at you and asked for a story.

"You always tell the best stories, mama."

You smiled. "Okay, munchkin. What kind of story do you want?"

"Can you tell one about daddy?"

Emotion clouded your face for a moment before you smiled at your daughter again. You looked into her beautiful green eyes and hummed softly. "I think I can come up with something."

"So does that mean we're done with Monopoly?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I think so," you chuckled.

"Thank god." He turned to little Dean. "Auntie (Y/N) is gonna tell a story about your Uncle Dean."

"Uncie Dean!" he squealed happily.

You laughed warmly and gestured for both kids to come sit in front of you. You closed your eyes for a moment, mentally calling out to your husband in the hopes he would check in and see this moment.

"How 'bout the time daddy gave me an impromptu birthday party?"

Sam laughed loudly. "I love that story."

You smiled. "Me too." Your expression changed as you reminisced, but the warmth never left your eyes.

"It was my 25th birthday and your daddy wanted to celebrate what he deemed was a big milestone..."

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard (Y/N) call my name, so I told Charlie, Jo, and Pamela that I had to forfeit our game of pool. "It's (Y/N/N)," I said with a shrug.

"Awww," all three of them said in a teasing tone.

I waved them off as I went outside to visit my wife. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the whole family sitting in Sam and Eileen's living room.

My daughter and my nephew were sitting on the floor watching (Y/N) with wide eyes. Even Sam and Eileen were paying close attention. (Y/N) appeared to be telling some kind of story and she was signing it as well to make sure Eileen could keep up.

I entered the room fully and heard (Y/N) telling a story--a story about me.

"We weren't exactly big on celebrating birthdays in our line of work, but Dean got it into his head that today was important and needed to be celebrated. I have no idea what the heck he was thinking, since we were living out of motels at the time, but he decided he wanted to have a birthday party for me."

"He didn't say a word to me about it," she continued, "but he did tell his brother." She threw a pointed look in Sam's direction and he shrugged innocently. "We had just started dating...I think it had only been a few months, actually."

"It was six months," Sam cut in at the same time I whispered, "Six."

(Y/N) laughed. "Okay, six months. Anyway, we didn't have any cases on the horizon--no where else we needed to be, so your father thought it would be a good idea to have a celebration. He bought a cake, balloons, streamers--the whole nine yards."

"He sent the two of us out to pick up dinner so he could decorate the little motel room," Sam added.

"When we returned, the entire room was covered in decorations and he was standing in the middle of the room holding a bundle of lilies--my favorite flower."

She sighed happily at the memory and I had a feeling she could picture it as well as I could.

"He even said 'surprise!' when we came into the room. I remember it being a really heartwarming moment for me. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd celebrated a birthday and here was this man I'd only been with for a short time going all out to celebrate me."

"Your's was the only birthday I can remember him making a fuss over," Sam commented. "That's when I knew how much he cared about you."

She chuckled lightly. "Oddly enough, I still wasn't sure why he'd picked me, and I had no clue how deeply he cared for me...but I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I loved him."

Both kids leaned forward, especially Charlie, who seemed to be hanging on to her mother's every word. Even Sam looked like he was unaware of this part of the story.

"We'd had dinner, and Dean forced Sam to sing me happy birthday--which was hilarious, I might add--and then he brought out the cake. It wasn't a store-bought cake like I'd expected. It was a homemade cake--yellow cake with chocolate icing, my absolute favorite. I was beyond shocked, especially since we didn't have an oven."

She grinned as she continued. "When I asked him where he got it, he admitted that the day before he'd gone to the store to get the supplies he needed and then he uh--well, he broke into a bakery to use their oven to bake me a cake for my birthday. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me...and silly as it might sound, that was the exact moment I knew I was in love with him."

"Daddy broke into a bakery?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) laughed. "Yes, he did, but it was a special circumstance. Don't commit crimes, kids."

Sam laughed and I could tell he was thinking about all the illegal shit we'd done in our lives--all kinds of things we wouldn't want either of our children to do.

"I want someone to break into a bakery to make me a cake," my daughter mumbled.

All the adults in the room laughed, myself included.

"Baby, I'd break into a bakery for you any day," (Y/N) teased warmly. She reached out and scooped Charlie up and pulled her onto her lap. She squeezed her tightly before tickling her stomach lightly to emphasize her words.

I watched the sweet moment for a little while longer before the ache of not being with them became unbearable. I blew my wife a kiss I knew she couldn't see and one for my daughter as well. "I love you both," I whispered before returning to my rightful place.

**********

"Moooooom!" Charlie moaned. "It's Sunday! You can't do things on Sunday."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "You wouldn't have to do anything today if you'd done your homework yesterday, like I told you to."

She grumbled and sighed. "I hate homework."

"You sound like your dad," you teased lightly.

Charlie seemed to brighten at the comment, as she often did when she was compared to her dad. "Can't we do our Sunday dance party first?" she pleaded.

You sighed, giving her a look you'd often used on Dean. It clearly said 'You aggravate the hell out of me, but I love you endlessly'. Charlie knew what it meant as well as Dean had, so she knew she'd won.

"Fine," you mumbled, throwing your hands up.

"I'll pick the first song!" Charlie yelled as she jumped out of her chair and ran towards the stereo.

You'd bought an old stereo that could play cassette tapes as a kind of homage to Dean. After all, you had all of the albums he'd loved on cassette.

"This one!" Charlie exclaimed, pressing play on the machine.

The intro to 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC started playing and you couldn't help but laugh. It was probably your fault she loved classic rock so much, but she really seemed to thrive on it the same way Dean had.

You watched your daughter start dancing around the living room to one of her favorite songs. At nine years old, she had no idea what the song was really about--but she sang those lyrics with all her might.

She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the dance with her. The two of you danced around the living room, singing along to song after song until you were both out of breath.

You'd started 'Sunday Dance Party' back when Charlie was just a baby. You'd dance around with her in your arms, singing along to songs that spoke to your soul--and songs Dean had loved with all his heart. The tradition had continued on for nine years now--and you hoped it would never end.

"Okay," you gasped breathlessly as the last song came to an end. "How 'bout a slower song to wind down?

Charlie nodded her agreement and started digging through the albums. "Mom, where's the Bob Seger one?"

Your heart clenched for a moment, remembering how you'd taken the album to your room to listen to it when you were having a particularly rough night. "One sec, baby. Let me grab it."

You went to your room and retrieved the tape, delivering it to your daughter who looked confused.

"Why was it in your room?"

"I wanted to listen to it earlier this week. It's--well it's a special album."

Charlie looked at you quizzically.

"It was one of your dad's favorites. He always said Bob Seger was the greatest lyricist of all time..." You closed your eyes, picturing Dean's face as he sang along to 'Night Moves'. "I can still hear him singing along."

Charlie looked sad and she reached out to grab your hand. "Do you wanna listen to someone else?"

You smiled and wiped the stray tear that had fallen on your cheek. "No, baby. Pick a Bob Seger song."

Charlie gave you a lopsided smile that so resembled one of Dean's and your heart tightened. She selected a song and to your surprise, Dean's favorite Bob Seger song started to play.

"Night Moves," you whispered.

"I really like this one," Charlie admitted.

You took her hands and started to sway to the music. "It was your dad's favorite."

Charlie beamed at that--clearly pleased with the correlation. It was another song she knew every word to, but had no idea what it was about. It made you smile, hearing her sing along.

When the song came to an end, Charlie looked up at you. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"What was dad's all-time favorite song?"

You exhaled slowly as you thought about it. "He had two--'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blue'."

"Led Zeppelin."

You grinned. "Very good. Your dad would be proud."

She smiled. "What's yours?"

Your expression changed, the smile falling from your face. "If you'd asked me before I met your dad, my answer would have been different. But now? It's an REO Speedwagon song from the '80s. It's called 'Can't Fight This Feeling'."

"I...I don't think I know that one."

"That's probably because I haven't played it in a very long time--you were probably four the last time I listened to it."

"Why?"

"It was too hard to listen to it," you admitted. "The night Dean--your dad--asked me out, we went to a karaoke bar. He decided he wanted to sing a song and he chose 'Can't Fight This Feeling'. He dedicated it to me and it became our song. When he asked me to marry him, that song was playing in the background and it was the song we danced to at our wedding."

"So it reminds you of dad."

You nodded. "More than any other song ever could."

"Could we...could we listen to it?" she asked softly. A pained expression crossed your face and she immediately backtracked. "We don't have to."

"No, no, it's okay. We can listen to it. It's probably way past time I listen to it again."

You went into your room and dug out the old REO Speedwagon album, bringing it out to the living room and placing it in the cassette player. You pressed play and as the intro started, your chest tightened again.

Charlie listened intently as the song played and you swayed along to it, the lyrics slipping from your lips softly. For a moment, you swore you could feel Dean standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying with you. You closed your eyes and heard his voice in your mind, singing softly just for you to hear.

**********

"What am I supposed to do with her?" you grumbled, head in your hands as you sat across the table from Jody.

Your friend laughed softly. "She's a teenager now, (Y/N). She's probably gonna be a bit of a pain in the ass for a while."

You groaned. "You raised teenage girls. How did you do it?"

Jody smiled. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you, but my girls are good girls now and I'm thankful for it. It's probably gonna be a little harder for you, though--Charlie takes after her father in a lot of ways."

"Oh you mean like his stubborn, pig-headedness? Or his sarcasm and biting humor?"

Jody laughed. "Yeah all of that is true--but she also takes after him in a lot of the good ways too. She's just as deeply emotional as him, but she doesn't know how to express it or understand it yet."

You sighed. "You're not wrong. Dean never really learned how to express it, but he didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I'm just hoping I can help her--that is if I don't kill her for mouthing off all the damn time."

**********

Dean's POV:

I was surprised to see (Y/N) sitting at Jody's dining table, the older woman sitting across from her. (Y/N) looked stressed and I felt the strong urge to comfort her, even though I knew I couldn't.

"You're not gonna kill her," Jody assured my wife.

"I just might if she tells me I'm ruining her life one more time."

"Uh-oh. I've heard that one before. What's she think you're doing?"

"I told her she can't hunt."

"Well yeah, she's 13."

(Y/N) shook her head. "Ever. I told her she could never hunt."

Jody looked sad, but unsurprised. "Ahh..and she didn't take that well."

"No," (Y/N) said firmly. "No, she did not."

I was more than a little surprised (Y/N) had told Charlie she couldn't hunt. I mean, I didn't want her to hunt either, but it wasn't like (Y/N) to try and make life decisions for someone else.

"Did you tell her why?" Jody asked.

"I tried, but she was too angry to hear me," (Y/N) whispered. "I can't lose her, Jody--she's all I have."

Jody reached out and squeezed her hand. "She's not all you have, honey, but I get what you're saying. She's your daughter and you don't want that life for her."

"She's all I have left of Dean," she whispered so softly, Jody had to lean in to hear her.

"Oh honey," Jody said gently as she got up to give my wife a hug. She cried into Jody's shoulder and I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a very private moment I wasn't meant to see. I was about to go back to heaven when I heard (Y/N) speak again.

"Do you think I should tell her everything?"

Jody sighed as she thought about it. "Do you think she's ready to know the truth?"

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I can't help but feel that if she only knew, she wouldn't want that life for herself...and maybe she would understand why I don't either."

I wasn't entirely sure what (Y/N) was referring to. I assumed she meant the general horror that was our lives--and all the pain and loss that went with it.

"Talk to Sam," Jody suggested. "See what he thinks."

(Y/N) nodded her agreement and I decided to stay with her until she spoke to Sam...I had a feeling I would want to know what happened next.

**********

"Hey Sammy," you said softly as he opened the door.

"Here to get Charlie?" he asked.

You nodded, but grabbed his arm to keep him from turning around to get her. "I...I wanted to talk to you first."

"Sure, (Y/N/N). You okay?"

You shook your head. "Did she mention how much she hates me?"

Sam sighed and guided you to his office, just off the front door. "She mentioned something about it, yeah."

"I told her she couldn't be a hunter."

"I'm surprised she'd even want to be, given how much death and pain it caused all of us."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sam raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"I didn't tell her the whole story," you admitted. "About Dean's death."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want her to know how awful it really was, so I told her he died instantly--painlessly."

Sam sighed softly. "(Y/N)..."

"I know! I know...I shouldn't have lied to her. But the truth is so much worse and I didn't want those images in her mind. I didn't want her to know how he suffered, how we watched him die knowing we couldn't save him."

A soft gasp behind you alerted you to the presence of another person. You spun around just in time to see your daughter peeking around the corner, a look of horror on her face. As soon as you made eye contact, Charlie raced away from you, running up the stairs and locking herself in the guest bedroom.

"Charlie!" you called as you ran after her, Sam close on your heels.

You knocked on the door and begged her to open it--to let you explain, but she refused.

"Baby, please just open the door," you begged.

Sam touched your arm and gestured something you didn't quite understand. He repeated the gesture and a look of comprehension spread across your face. You nodded and he left quickly to grab what he needed.

When he returned, he had his lock picking tools in his hand and he began to pick the bedroom door lock. When it clicked, signaling it was now unlocked, he stepped back and allowed you to enter.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was shocked by the events that had led to this moment, but at the same time, I didn't really blame my wife for lying to Charlie. In all honesty, I had done the same thing about a million times in my life--all under the guise of protection.

As (Y/N) stepped into the room, I followed her, eyes darting around the space, trying to find my daughter. I finally noticed her, curled up on the floor on the other side of the bed, back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

(Y/N) clearly saw her too because she made her way over there, dropping to her knees in front of Charlie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she whispered.

"You lied to me," Charlie seethed.

I saw (Y/N)'s eyes flutter closed for a moment, tears beginning to form. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I lied to you. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I can't change it. If you'll let me, I'd like to explain why...and tell you the truth."

"How do I know you won't lie again?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Charlie finally made eye contact with her mother and my heart nearly broke at the hurt look on her face. She'd been crying pretty hard and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked conflicted, but finally reached out a hand and her mother grabbed it, pulling her to her feet.

(Y/N) and Charlie sat on the bed in silence for a moment before (Y/N) began to speak. "When you were little and you'd ask me where your dad was, it always hurt me to answer you. When you were born, I was still in mourning, and I never really dealt with his death until you were a few months old."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "Our lives were complicated in a way I could never fully describe to you. Your father always believed he would die young--I was just too naive to agree. His death broke me in ways I'm embarrassed to admit. He was my everything, Charlie, and for a while, I wished I could trade places with him."

She sighed, tears falling freely now. "But then I found out I was pregnant and I had to shift my whole mindset. My life became about taking care of you--protecting you--and nothing else mattered. I may not have always gone about it in the right way, but I never intended to hurt you."

Charlie sniffled a little and turned to face (Y/N) as she continued talking.

"The things this family has done--the lives we've saved, has earned us a bit of special treatment. I know I've told you a lot of things about monsters and demons and angels--all of those things were true. Heaven and Hell really do exist, and your dad really is in heaven."

She closed her eyes, thinking back to many years prior. "When you were a baby, your dad was given a gift by god. He was able to return to earth for one short hour to say goodbye to me and Uncle Sammy--and to meet you."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "He met me?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah, baby, he did. He held you in his arms and told you how perfect you were--and how he wanted your life to be beautiful and amazing; sentiments I also share. It wasn't until that moment I really started to heal--to properly grieve."

"But what about his death?" Charlie whispered. "I heard you say it was awful and he suffered."

I watched agony flash across my wife's face and I wanted so badly to hold her--to take away the pain. Just like I wanted to shield Charlie from the memory (Y/N) was about to share.

"We've lost a lot of people in this life, Charlie. More people than I'd care to admit. The three incredible women you're named after all died as a direct result of hunting--of the life we chose. There were so many others that we loved deeply and lost painfully. Your dad was no different."

"The main parts of the story are true. We were hunting vampires--me, your dad, and your Uncle Sam. Everything seemed fine...it was a shocking cut and dry, easy hunt, but it turned into the worst night of my life. I heard your uncle scream my name and I just knew...I almost didn't turn around."

She sniffed softly and exhaled shakily. The painful memory was not one she had ever wanted to relive. "Your dad had been thrown by a vampire, like so many times before. I didn't even think anything of it, but when I turned around, I saw--" she cleared her throat, "I saw his feet dangling slightly, up against a post, with a piece of metal sticking out of his chest."

Charlie gasped and renewed tears sprang from her eyes.

(Y/N) didn't stop...once she'd begun, she couldn't stop. "I knew without him saying a word that he was dying--this was it. Your uncle and I had to stand there and watch him slowly fade away. I heard him take his last breath, taking a piece of my soul with him. It was hell, Charlie."

Charlie was crying harder as her mother turned to her, her own tears staining her cheeks. (Y/N) reached for her and Charlie dove into the comfort of her arms.

"I'm sorry, mama," she cried.

(Y/N) tightened her grip. "It's alright baby."

The two stayed like that for a long time, not separating until their tears had dried.

When Charlie sat up and wiped her face, she seemed almost sheepish.

(Y/N) turned to her with a sad smile. "So you see, that's why I don't want you to be a hunter. It's not that I think you couldn't do it or a desire to control you--I just don't wanna lose you."

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered.

"It's okay, baby. I'm not mad."

I couldn't even begin to express the various emotions I was feeling in that moment. I was proud of my wife and heartbroken for her and Charlie. I missed them both terribly and I knew they felt the same. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of the distance between us--and I didn't know if I could take much more of it.

********

"Well, baby," you said, looking at the ceiling. "Our little girl turns 16 today...and it scares the hell out of me."

You sighed and dragged yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"She's got a boyfriend, you know," you continued. "I think I scared him a little bit when he came over last weekend to meet me. You'd be proud."

You brushed your teeth, humming quietly as you did.

"His name is Zack--he seems nice enough. I'm not too worried about her. She's a tough girl and knows how to fight, thanks to her mama."

You sighed as you ran a brush through your hair.

"I just can't believe she's two years away from adulthood. It blows my mind," you admitted softly. "It's days like today that I miss you more than ever. I wish you were here Dean, and I love so much."

You blew a kiss towards the ceiling before finishing getting ready.

When you went downstairs, Charlie was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal.

"My, my, you're up early," you teased.

"It's not every day a girl turns 16, mom," she teased in return.

"16...god that makes me feel old."

"You are old."

You threw a dish towel at her and she giggled as she blocked it. "Little shit," you mumbled.

"Fry cry from when you used to call me 'little one'."

You smiled. "You were so cute back then."

"What? Am I hideous now?"

You laughed and squeezed her in a tight hug. "You're the most beautiful girl I know."

You kissed her cheek and she groaned. "Gross, mom."

You laughed. "You know, someday you're gonna miss this. Soon, you'll be going off to college and leaving me in the dust. You'll get married and move away and one day you'll wake up and think 'man I wanna hug my mom'."

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She paused for a moment, her face sobering slightly. "Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you date?"

You nearly choked on your coffee. "Pardon?"

"Why don't you ever date? You're pretty and smart--I know there's a lot of hot, single dads at school who would love to take you out."

"As much as I appreciate that darling, I'm not interested in dating."

"Why not?"

You sat your mug down. "Why the sudden interest in my dating life?"

"Because I'm going to college soon, mom--and I don't want you to be alone," she admitted softly.

You sighed. "Oh sweetheart. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be just fine. Besides, I'm not alone--not really."

"I don't mean friends mom, I mean someone to love you."

"To be honest with you, Charlie, I've thought about it...but I know, in my heart, no one will ever compare to your dad. No one could ever love me the way he did, nor could I ever love someone as much as I love him. So I don't mind being alone--I know for a fact I will see your dad again. That's a gift most people will never have."

"I want a love like that," Charlie said quietly.

You smiled. "I hope you will someday, baby. I really do."

She smiled and nodded, looking down at the last of her cereal. "It's kind of nice knowing heaven is real--like not just having faith, but knowing."

You glanced up, a small smile on your face. "Yeah it is, sweetheart. Yeah it is."

**********

"Mama," Charlie whimpered as she practically barged through your front door and straight into your arms.

"What's wrong baby? What happened?"

"Steven broke up with me," she cried.

"Oh sweetheart," you said gently. "Come on in and sit down. Let me make you some chamomile tea."

Charlie sniffled and nodded, coming into the house and sitting down at the kitchen island to watch you as you prepared her tea.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"He said I wasn't good enough for him--that he's going places and I'll just 'hold him back'."

You closed your eyes and your grip tightened on the tea kettle in your hand. You felt the strong urge to go find this kid and smack him around a little, but you knew that wouldn't solve anything. It certainly wouldn't fix your daughter's broken heart. For the first time, you were glad Dean wasn't here--you knew he would have beaten the shit outta the kid for hurting his baby girl.

"He's obviously an idiot--and an asshole, for that matter."

Charlie sniffled again. "But I love him."

You sighed softly, turning around to face her. "I know, sweetie. But I also know he's not the right man for you."

"How do you know?"

"He would have never said those things to you if he was. If he loved you and I mean truly loved you, you would be his priority."

Charlie nodded, but still looked horribly sad. You finished making her tea and sat the cup down in front of her with a soft smile.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. It's going to hurt for a while--and that's alright--it's okay to feel. But you're going to dust yourself off and keep going."

"What if I never find anyone?" she whispered.

"You're 19, Charlie," you said gently. "You've got so much time. I was 31 when I married your father."

She looked up at you with sad eyes. "I wanna find a love like you and daddy."

You inhaled deeply. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, sweetheart--and I know your dad would want the same thing. I'm sure it's hard to not have relationship role models in your parents, but at least you know how we feel about each other."

Charlie shook her head qucikly. "You guys are my relationship role models. Just because dad isn't here, doesn't mean I don't look up to him and you. I've heard stories about how much he loved you my entire life--from everyone, Uncle Sam, Aunt Donna, Aunt Eileen, Aunt Jody, Claire, Alex...everyone. And I've seen how much you love him...even now. It's been 19 years since he died and your love hasn't diminished."

Tears filled your eyes. You were glad she knew how much her parents loved each other, even if she never saw them together.

You came around the island and took Charlie's hand, guiding her to the couch in the living room. She sat down beside you and you held her close, letting her cry softly into your chest.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. Someday, you're going to meet someone who makes you laugh, holds you when you cry, supports all of your goals and ambitions, and loves you for who you are. They'll treat you right, respect you, and fight for you even when it's difficult."

You kissed the top of her head and continued, "I hope that person makes you feel amazing--like you're the only woman in the world to them. I want you to be loved fully--by someone who sees your value, your worth. And I hope you love them with the same kind of endless passion."

Charlie sniffed and held you a little tighter.

"I love your dad with everything I have--he's the other half of my soul. He loved me infinitely more than I deserved and I am incredibly honored to have experienced that kind of love. All I want is for you to experience a love like that--a love that lasts forever...death be damned."

**********

Dean's POV:

I listened to my daughter cry over her first broken heart and I watched my wife comfort her in a way only someone as amazing as she is could do.

I listened to Charlie say her mother and I were her role models--that she hoped to find a love like ours one day.

I cried as I listened to my wife tell our daughter her hopes for the future--and the love she hoped Charlie would experience. I cried even harder as (Y/N) tells her the kind of love we shared--the kind that lasts even in death.

I can't help but share the same hope as my wife--echo the same prayers for her future. She deserves the world, and that includes a love story for the ages.

I watch, with tears in my eyes, as my wife glances up at the ceiling and mouths 'I love you' before blowing a kiss. This time, I whisper the words back and blow a kiss to her, hoping somehow she can sense it.

**********

"He's just such a great guy," Charlie gushed.

You looked over at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Does he treat you right?" he asked.

Charlie nodded eagerly. "He's so good to me. He's always respectful and sweet--I...I think I love him."

Your eyes widened and you gave Sam a pointed look.

"Why don't you bring him by for dinner on Saturday?" Sam suggested.

"That would be great!" She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Uncle Sam!"

She rushed out the door, giddy in the way only new love could be.

"So you're gonna research the hell outta him, right?" you asked.

"Obviously," Sam agreed.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Sam had completed his research and to your happy surprise, there didn't seem to be anything concerning in this guy's past. Of course, you took precautions, as you so often did with Charlie's friends and boyfriends. You needed to make sure she was safe.

Sam had laid out the silver dinnerware and you'd blessed all the water in the house, just in case. You could never be too careful--you were still Winchesters after all.

When Charlie and her boyfriend, Paul, arrived, you were surprised by how gentlemanly he was. He'd brought you flowers, which you thought was a very sweet gesture, especially since they were lilies--your favorite.

"That's so sweet of you, Paul," you said warmly. "Lilies are my favorite."

He smiled. "I asked Charlie what your favorite was so I could get you something you would like."

You were surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but it gave you a very positive feeling in your chest. A feeling you could see reflected in your daughter's eyes.

The more you talked with him and the more information you got, the more you liked him. He was genuinely kind and caring, and you could see how much he cared for Charlie.

He made her laugh, he made her smile, and he was gently affectionate with her in a way that reminded you of Dean. In fact, there was a lot about him that made you think of Dean...and that made you extremely happy for your daughter.

Eileen, Charlie, and Paul were sitting in the living room after dinner, while you and Sam cleared the table and did dishes. You'd had to practically force Paul to go sit down. He was very insistent on helping you. Normally, you would have happily taken his help, but you really wanted to talk to Sam alone.

"So what do you think?" you asked softly.

"He doesn't seem to be any kind of monster," Sam mumbled. "And he treats Charlie well."

"I like him," you admitted. "He, uhh--he reminds me of Dean."

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise.

"The way he looks at Charlie...the way he makes her laugh and smile...the way she looks at him. All of it reminds me of my relationship with Dean. It's what I've always wanted for her."

Sam smiled. "You must really like him to compare him to Dean."

You chuckled. "You're not wrong. I'm happy for her, but I'm not trying to marry her off yet."

Sam laughed. "I know you're not, don't worry."

Later that night, Charlie asked you what you thought of Paul and you repeated what you'd told Sam earlier.

"He reminds you of dad?" Charlie whispered.

You nodded. "I liked him very much."

"So do I, mom."

You pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "I'm happy for you baby."

"Thanks...I'm glad you approve."

"So does your Uncle Sam, for the record."

"That actually makes me feel really good," Charlie admitted. "It's almost as good as having a seal of approval from dad."

You smiled. "I know your dad would like him too, sweetheart. He makes you happy and that's all we've ever wanted for you."

**********

"Today's the day," you whispered, looking at the framed picture of your husband. "Our baby girl is getting married."

It had been two years since you'd first met Paul and the longer you knew him, the more you liked him. He was the right match for Charlie and you couldn't even begin to describe how happy you were for her. She deserved to be loved by a good man--to experience a love as powerful as her parents have.

You couldn't believe they were getting married today. It was the next step in your daughter's life and it brought you so much joy, and perhaps a little sadness. It was the end of an era. Your little girl was about to start a new life with the man she loved...and it made you miss your other half.

You'd always known today would be difficult. Dean wouldn't be there to walk his daughter down the aisle and it broke your heart, but that didn't mean he couldn't be present. You had a framed picture of him with you at Charlie's suggestion--a way to keep his memory with you on this special day.

His picture was wonderful, but you craved his presence--his soul. You wanted to feel like he was with you, and you knew he'd want to witness the events of the day.

"Hey baby," you said to the ceiling. "I really need you here, Dean."

You waited a few moments in silence, hoping he had heard you.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was lounging in a chair in the Roadhouse, listening to Charlie and Ash have a heated debate about some nerdy computer thing I couldn't possibly understand. Just listening to them made me smile--it felt good to be surrounded by so many people I'd loved and lost.

I took a slow drink of my whiskey and chuckled softly at their antics. I made eye contact with Ellen over the tops of their heads and she had a similar expression on her face.

"I really need you here, Dean."

I heard (Y/N)'s voice in my mind and knew I needed to go to her immediately. She didn't sound distressed, but I could tell she needed me by the tone of her voice.

I stood up and crossed the room towards the bar where Ellen was standing. "I need to go check on (Y/N/N)."

Ellen nodded. "Use the backroom. I'll keep everyone out."

"Thanks, Ellen."

I went into the backroom and sat down. I closed my eyes and pictured the sweetest face in the world--my beloved (Y/N). When I opened my eyes, I was in a place I didn't recognize, looking at a woman I knew to be my wife--even if she didn't quite look like the woman I always pictured.

She was older than even the last time I saw her, but she was no less beautiful. Her curves were softer, her hair was graying, and the lines on her face were deeper. None of that mattered to me, she still stole my heart with just a glance.

She was wearing a long silky robe, which only increased my confusion. We were in a strange place, and she wasn't wearing proper clothes.

"Well, handsome, I think I've given you enough time," she said softly. "You're probably wondering where we are..." she gestured around. "Today is a very special day...it's Charlie's wedding day."

I gasped--I hadn't realized enough time had passed for her to have met a man worthy of marriage...hell, I didn't even know who she was marrying.

"I don't know if you've met Paul yet, but he's a wonderful man, Dean--and he's so good to Charlie. You would really like him, I just know it. He even reminds me of you," she said softly. "He loves her the way you love me. It's what we've always wanted for her."

I couldn't believe my daughter was getting married, but if her soon-to-be-husband was as great as (Y/N) described, then I was beyond happy for her. I wasn't going to miss a single moment of this day, no matter how long it took.

"I've gotta get my dress on and go check on (Y/N). Feel free to go find her--I'll be there soon."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stay for that...she was still my wife, after all, but it felt creepy to watch her change. Instead, I went to find my daughter.

It didn't take me long to find her and when I did, my heart clenched in my chest. She looked so much like her mother it was almost frightening, the only difference was her eyes.

I had no idea how old she was, but I would have guessed she was around 28--if only based on how her mother had looked at that age. She had long, beautiful hair that was styled in some fancy wedding do. A woman was finishing her makeup and there were other girls in the room with her chatting away as they got ready.

I didn't want to see something I couldn't unsee, so I decided to go back to (Y/N)'s room until the ceremony began.

**********

You smoothed your dress and took a deep breath before entering the bridal suite to check on your daughter. She was just preparing to put on her dress when you entered.

You inhaled sharply and tears stung your eyes as you took in her beautiful face--she almost seemed to sparkle. "You look beautiful, baby," you whispered.

"Thanks mom. I was wondering where you were--I almost sent one of the girls to come get you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

You crossed the room and hugged her tightly. You helped her into her dress, zipping up the back and looking in the mirror with her.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Nervous," she admitted.

"Don't be. You're marrying a great man. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"Were you nervous on your wedding day?"

You chuckled lightly. "Not even a little."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "I knew I wanted to marry your father and I knew he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for me--nothing else mattered."

Charlie smiled and you saw some of her nerves fall away. "I wish daddy was here right now," she whispered.

"He is, sweetheart--I know it."

"How do you know?"

"I told him I needed him. He would never ignore that call."

Charlie smiled tearily and you waved your hand in front of her face to dry the tears.

"Don't mess up your makeup, sweetie."

She laughed and you placed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks mom," she murmured.

"You ready?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

**********

Dean's POV:

I waited patiently outside of the bridal suite for my wife and daughter to emerge. I was rendered absolutely speechless when I caught a glimpse of Charlie--she looked even more beautiful than before. Even better, she looked so incredibly happy.

I followed the bridal party as they moved towards the main hall where the ceremony was taking place. I watched as everyone began to line up and I started to wonder who would be walking Charlie down the aisle.

As I had this thought, my brother appeared with something in his hand. He looked older too, of course, but he still looked like my little brother to me.

"I think you forgot something," Sam said to (Y/N) as he handed her what appeared to be a picture frame.

She took it with a teary expression and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Sammy."

He kissed the top of her head before embracing Charlie. "You look beautiful, Charlie."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam."

"Alright, I've gotta go sit down. Your mother will kill me if I'm late." He addressed his words to a tall young man I quickly recognized as my namesake, Sam's son, Dean.

"Better go fast, the procession is about to start," (Y/N) teased.

I'd assumed Sam would be walking Charlie down the aisle, but now I was truly confused. Perhaps (Y/N/N) was going to do it.

The doors opened and the music poured out as the wedding party began the long walk down the aisle. Before long, the only people who remained were my wife and my daughter.

"You ready, sweetheart?" (Y/N) asked.

Charlie nodded. She took the picture frame from her mother and breathed deeply. She kissed her hand and then placed it on the picture with a small smile. I looked at the picture and surprise lit up my face. It was a picture of me...

She handed it back to her mother with a smile.

"In a way, he's still walking you down the aisle," (Y/N) whispered softly.

"It's perfect," Charlie affirmed.

The wedding march began and (Y/N) squeezed Charlie's arm gently. The two of them began the walk down the aisle and I followed behind them, proud to be there for this powerful moment.

This was the proudest moment of my life--or I guess afterlife. My daughter was happy, my wife was happy--I couldn't have asked for anything better.

**********

"You didn't say it would be this awful," Charlie accused you.

You chuckled lightly. "Of course I did, but you didn't want to listen."

Charlie groaned as a contraction hit her.

You looked up at Paul, who looked slightly terrified. "You alright there, Paul?" you asked gently.

"I feel a little anxious, that's all," he reassured you.

You smiled, thinking back to the day you gave birth to Charlie. Sam's face had looked very similar to the way Paul looked right now.

Much like you, Charlie was tough as nails, and you knew she would make it through childbirth just as you had. "You're doing great, honey," you murmured.

She moaned in pain, squeezing both your hand and Paul's. You winced slightly, but let her keep squeezing. You soothed her gently, brushing her hair back from her face, much like Eileen had done for you 30 years prior.

You almost couldn't believe it had been that long. It was hard to believe how fast the time had gone by, but part of you still felt as though time was too slow. You wanted as much time with your daughter as possible, but your desire to be reunited with Dean was almost as strong. Love was complicated that way.

Charlie's nails biting into your skin roused you from your thoughts and you focused back on your daughter, trying to help her through one of the most incredible--and painful--moments of her life.

Ultimately, Charlie was in labor for a grand total of 14 hours before giving birth to a very healthy baby girl. You watched proudly as she held her newborn daughter in her arms and whispered to her much like you'd done to Charlie when she was born.

"You did so well, sweetheart," you said softly as you stroked Charlie's hair.

She looked up at you with those piercing green eyes of hers--emotion filling every part of her face. "She's so perfect."

You smiled, remembering the past as if it were yesterday. "Just like her mama," you murmured.

Tears filled Charlie's eyes and you kissed her forehead gently. You were just as emotional as she was, but you did your best to hide it. You didn't want to burden her with your emotions.

"Do you have a name picked out?" you asked.

Charlie nodded. "Lillian, after Paul's mother."

You knew Paul's mother had passed away a few years prior, so you thought the sentiment was especially sweet. "Lillian is a good name."

"Her middle name is Deanna...in honor of dad."

You inhaled sharply, surprised by how a simple name stirred up so much emotion. "He would love that, baby. In fact, Deanna is your great grandmother's name. Your grandmother named her children after her parents, Deanna and Samuel...Dean and Sam."

"I never knew that," Charlie whispered.

"I guess I never really thought about it until now."

Charlie looked up at Paul. "What about her last name?"

Charlie had chosen to keep her last name when she got married. She loved the name and the history that came along with it--plus she wanted to honor her dad, a sentiment you appreciated.

"I think we should hyphenate it," Paul answered.

"Lillian Deanna Winchester-Riley," Charlie said slowly. "I like that."

Paul smiled. "I like it too."

You smiled at the young couple and your sweet granddaughter, enjoying the moment as long as you could. There was so much you wanted to say, but now wasn't the time. You wanted this day to be nothing but happiness and love--Charlie deserved it.

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been several days since I'd last heard from (Y/N) and I was beginning to worry. Usually she talked to me pretty often, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.

I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, so I decided to check in on her--just in case.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself in a large doctor's office. I looked around the expansive room filled with several large comfortable reclining chairs, confusion flooding my mind. I didn't see (Y/N), but I did notice several people sitting back in their chairs, hooked up to IVs and monitors, and I had a feeling this wasn't a good place.

I began to walk down the rows of chairs, examining every face I came across. It didn't take me long to figure out this was a cancer treatment facility and these patients were likely receiving chemotherapy.

At the end of one of the rows, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting alone, reading a novel. My instincts told me to go to her and as I got closer, I realized I knew the (y/e/c) eyes as well as I knew my own.

"(Y/N)," I whispered as I sunk to my knees in front of her. She looked so much older than the last time I'd seen her, but I knew without a doubt that was due to her illness. She was wearing a pretty bandana on her head to hide her lack of hair and she looked painfully thin.

It broke my heart to see her like this--and it made me angry. Out of all the people in the world, (Y/N) deserved this the least. She was a hero, for god's sake. She'd saved the world as many times as I had, and she was a genuinely good person. She didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"Hey Miss (Y/N)," a woman's voice said from behind me. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) looked up at the young woman and smiled. "I'm alright, Cynthia, all things considered."

Cynthia nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Any nausea?"

(Y/N) shook her head. "I guess I'm used to it."

"Alright, well let me know if you need anything. You've got another hour left and then your daughter will be here to pick you up."

(Y/N) nodded and I watched the nurse walk away. When I turned my attention back to (Y/N), I could tell she felt terrible. The chemo was killing her as much as the cancer--she was becoming a shell of the woman I loved so dearly.

I almost couldn't stand to see her like this--the urge to run was one I had to suppress. (Y/N) needed me now more than ever and I would be damned if I left her side for more than a moment. She might not know I was there, but I hoped my presence would somehow comfort her.

I pressed my lips to her forehead in a soft kiss she couldn't feel and I whispered how much I loved her. As much as I wanted to be with her again, I needed her to survive--Charlie needed her more than me right now, so I couldn't be selfish. I would have done anything to make her healthy, but this was one problem I couldn't solve.

**********

You weren't exactly surprised when you'd been diagnosed with cancer three years prior, shortly before the birth of your first grandchild. You didn't tell Charlie until after Lillian was born...you hadn't wanted to worry her.

Chemo had been hell--maybe not quite as bad as what Dean had described hell to be like, but close enough. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. You'd spent an entire year going to treatment after treatment, seeing doctor after doctor, and feeling like death the entire time.

You'd lost more than your hair...you'd lost your happiness and your spark--you'd lost yourself. Even now, two years in remission, you still didn't quite feel like your old self. You weren't sure you ever would be...life had simply thrown too many obstacles at you, and you were bound to break at some point.

The two constants in your life during your illness had been Charlie and Sam. You weren't surprised by either one's presence and you appreciated the love and care--even when they were a bit overbearing.

Now that you were healthy again, Charlie had been focusing more on her husband and two children--having just given birth to her second child.

You couldn't fault her for it, after all you'd told her you were completely fine. The only person who saw through you was Sam, but then again, he always had.

"Speak of the devil," you murmured softly as Sam walked into the living room.

"Were you talking about me?" Sam teased lightly.

"Technically, I was thinking about you."

"Okay, good. That's less concerning. For a moment, I thought you'd been talking to yourself."

"I tend to keep those conversations internal."

"You tend to keep everything internal," he admonished as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, hating how right he was.

"So come on. How are you really feeling?"

"Honestly, Sammy, I'm okay. I'm neither good, nor bad...I just am."

Sam exhaled deeply and nodded. "Has therapy helped at all?"

You shook your head. "I can't really explain what I'm feeling to a therapist, ya know? They wouldn't understand--hell, they'd probably think I was nuts."

Sam raised his eyebrows knowingly. "It's Dean again, isn't it?"

Tears filled your eyes. "I miss him now more than I ever have before--with the exception of the weeks after he first died. I can't explain it, but somehow almost dying has made me want to let go...to be with him again."

"I can't even begin to understand how you're feeling," Sam admitted. "But that doesn't mean I won't be here to listen and do what I can to help you. I don't want you to die anytime soon, but I know how it feels to welcome death with open arms."

You laid your head on his shoulder. "It's almost as if cancer took the joy out of life. I thought for sure I'd feel it again when I got better, but it's just not there. I don't want to die, but I'm tired, Sam--I'm so incredibly tired."

He knew what you meant without you having to explain yourself further. He simply wrapped his arms around you and held you close, allowing you to cry against his chest. He would have done anything for you, but he knew this time you were beyond his saving.

**********

It was your annual visit to your oncologist and Charlie had decided to come with you. You'd been in remission for five years now, but you had a feeling of dread you couldn't describe.

Charlie must have sensed it because she demanded to come with you to your appointment. You felt a bit like an invalid, having your daughter come with you, but you knew she was doing it out of love and concern.

"How have you been feeling lately, (Y/N)?" your doctor asked.

"A bit tired, but otherwise okay," you answered.

The doctor nodded, a sad look on her face. It was a look you knew well--you'd seen it before. "Just tell me," you inisisted.

Both Charlie and the doctor looked surprised, but the doctor was the first to recover. "I'm afraid your scans aren't looking good."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath--both knowing and fearing her next words.

"It looks like the cancer is back...and it's spread."

You sighed heavily, but didn't cry--you'd already accepted the inevitability of death and you weren't surprised it was arriving sooner than you'd expected.

Charlie, on the other hand, was devastated. You heard her gasp out a soft sob, so you turned your attention to her, wrapping your arms around her to comfort her.

"How long?" you asked the doctor softly.

"With chemo and maybe some radiation, a year, maybe a year and a half."

Charlie's soft crying intensified, prompting you to hold onto her a little tighter.

"And without treatment?"

"Wait, mom--no," Charlie said quickly.

Your eyes locked on to the doctor's gray ones and she exhaled softly. "A few weeks--two months at most."

Charlie looked up at you, bright green eyes begging you for something you knew you couldn't give.

You smiled sadly, tears of your own filling your eyes. "I can't do it again, baby--I just can't. I don't want to live the last bit of my life suffering like I did with the last round. I'm 70 years old--I've lived my life, and I'm ready to let go."

Charlie sniffled. "But I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We're never ready for the people we love to leave us. I don't want to leave you, but I can't stay forever."

"How am I supposed to live without you?" she whispered.

You smiled. "Luckily, you have a loving family who will support you through this. Losing someone is never easy, but you'll get through it, sweetheart. I'll be going to join your dad, so we'll both be watching over you."

She seemed to find some comfort in this, but you could still see the pain she was feeling. It broke your heart to leave her, but it was time. You were ready to go home--to Dean, who had always been your home.

**********

Telling Sam you were going to die had been one of the hardest things you'd ever had to do. He hated the idea of losing you almost as much as Charlie did, but he understood why you couldn't go through treatment again.

You'd done the rounds--saying goodbye to all the people you loved who still remained on earth. You would miss them terribly, but you knew this wasn't goodbye--you'd see them all again someday.

For the last week, you'd been in hospice. The end was coming soon and you were ready, even if your daughter wasn't. You were on enough pain medication to take down an elephant, but you managed to stay awake long enough to talk when you had visitors.

Today was one of those days. You'd already said your goodbyes to everyone else you loved, but Charlie was the one you knew would be the hardest. You'd tried to prepare her for this moment, but you knew it wasn't easy for her. You wanted to reassure her everything was going to be alright--she was going to be okay.

"I wanted to talk to you, sweetie," you said softly, interrupting your daughter's story.

"Sure, mom," she murmured, taking your hand. "What is it?"

"I'm ready to go," you whispered. "But I can't leave until you let me go."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm not ready."

"Yes you are. You're the strongest person I know and you've got a loving husband who will help you through this." You squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Besides, you know where I'm going...how many people can say that?"

She nodded, sniffling softly. "Not many."

"Exactly. But you know. You know heaven is real. You know that all the people we love are there waiting for us. You know I'll always be with you--that I'll be checking in on you any chance I get. That knowledge is a gift, Charlie...the greatest gift I could possibly give you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing your words to sink in. She hated letting you go, but she knew you were right. It hurt her to see you in pain and she could tell you needed to go.

"I will always love you, Charlie. Always. You're the best parts of me--and your dad. I've been honored to be your mother, to watch you grow up, to see the amazing woman you've become. I'm so proud of you in every way a mother can be proud of her daughter. You will always be my little girl--and I will never ever leave your heart."

Charlie laid her head on your chest, letting the tears fall in earnest. "I know how much you love me, mom, and I'm so thankful that I've had all these years with you. I love you so much and I'll miss you always. But I know it's time for you to move on...and you're right, I'll be okay. So it's okay...you can let go now. Go be with dad...where you belong."

Those words warmed your dying heart. They were what you needed to hear--what you needed Charlie to say. This was it. The last few moments of your life on earth. For many people, this moment would spark fear, but for you it was a welcome relief. As you'd told your daughter, you knew where you were going--you were going home.

**********

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself in an open field. The sun was shining brightly and birds were singing softly. For a moment, you were lost--unsure of where you were or how you got there.

You looked down at your hands, surprised to see how soft and smooth they were. You'd become accustomed to the wrinkles of old age, but it appeared those were gone.

"Hello, (Y/N)," said a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned around and greeted the young man with a smile. "Jack!"

You hugged him without thinking--something you'd always done when you'd both been on earth. You supposed thinking of him as a 'young man' wasn't quite accurate anymore, but that's how you'd probably always see him.

Jack returned your embrace with a gentle smile. "Welcome to heaven."

You let go of him and nodded. "I, uhh, I think I'm a little younger than I was when I died." You held your hands up as evidence.

Jack nodded. "You are the same age you were when Dean passed away. I thought you would appreciate that."

You blinked away tears and nodded quickly. "Thank you," you whispered. You were about to ask where Dean was when Jack nodded towards a building in the distance.

"He's in there."

You glanced towards the building, eyes narrowing to read the signage above the door. A warm smile graced your face as you realized it was Harvelle's Roadhouse--the very place you'd met Dean.

You turned back to Jack to thank him, but he'd disappeared. You murmured another thank you to him, knowing he would hear you. He was god, after all.

You walked the relatively short distance to the Roadhouse, stopping outside the door to take a deep breath. It might not have been all that long for Dean, but for you it had been 38 years.

You knew you were more than ready to see him, so you pulled the door open and stepped inside. It felt exactly like stepping into the past--like being embraced by a favorite memory.

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard the doors open, but I didn't think much of it. People were always coming and going from the Roadhouse. It was a popular establishment, even in heaven.

I didn't even think anything when I heard Ellen greeting someone happily. I was too engrossed in the old western show I was watching on the TV above the bar.

It wasn't until I heard Bobby say "(Y/N)" that I started to pay attention--the spell finally broken. I looked around, trying to figure out why he'd said her name, when I made eye contact with the most beautiful (y/e/c) eyes I'd ever seen. I would know those eyes anywhere.

I jumped out of my seat and took a few steps in her direction, whispering her name like I was afraid she would disappear if I said it too loud.

She smiled at me--a warm, loving expression I'd missed more than I could express. "Hi, Dean."

Hearing her voice pushed me into action. I moved towards her at the same time she moved towards me--meeting in the middle in an embrace I'd craved for longer than I'd care to admit.

Neither of us spoke, we didn't need to. Just feeling her in my arms again was better than any words she could have said.

She looked up at me, affection warming her features, and I couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful it hurt--if I hadn't already been dead, I would have passed out from lack of oxygen. I couldn't breathe as I looked at her--hell, I didn't even want to blink.

She reached up and touched my face, and I leaned into her caress. I'd missed the feeling of her gentle hands and I reveled in the feeling now.

She gently tugged on my head, pulling me down towards her. She stood up on her toes so she could press her lips against mine in a kiss more passionate than any we'd ever shared.

**********

Seeing Dean for the first time in almost 40 years was a shocking experience. He was just as handsome as you remembered, perhaps even more so.

You knew just by the way he looked at you that his love hadn't diminished in any way--just as yours hadn't.

Your embrace was wonderful, but it wasn't until your lips met his that you really felt the powerful emotions coursing through you. You had no desire to ever stop kissing him and you had a feeling he felt the same way.

You poured all your love for him into the kiss, and you could feel how much he loved you in return. It was more passionate--more powerful--than any kiss you'd ever shared with him on earth. You weren't sure if it was a heaven thing or simply because you'd been apart for so long.

When you finally separated, he looked at you with adoring eyes, hands still holding you firmly against him. You had a feeling he was afraid to let you go--a sentiment you shared.

He seemed to remember there were lots of witnesses around, which only made him more protective of you.

"Do you wanna see where I live?" he whispered quietly.

"Of course."

He addressed the room without taking his eyes off you. "I'm sure we'd all love to catch up and reminisce, but it'll have to wait. My beautiful wife and I have some catching up of our own to do."

You heard some knowing chuckles, which neither of you acknowledged. Instead, you allowed him to lead you out of the building and onto a gently sloping trail.

At the end of the trail sat a lovely little house, complete with a white picket fence--the kind of storybook ending neither of you had gotten in life.

Dean led you into the house and you instantly fell in love with it. There was just something about it that felt like home. Perhaps it was the man standing beside you, a hopeful look on his handsome face.

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," you said honestly.

He seemed to relax again, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "Wanna see the bedroom?"

You grinned. "I'd love to."

He led you down the hall to the bedroom. To your surprise, the room looked identical to the bedroom you'd shared at the bunker. You didn't expect such a simple thing to make you so emotional, but you couldn't help the tears that sprang to your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

You nodded. "I just didn't realize how much I missed this room."

He smiled. "It's the only place that ever felt like home."

You shook your head. "Anywhere with you felt like home to me."

He turned to you suddenly, pressing his body against yours as he pulled you in for another heated kiss. His desire for you was evident in his actions and you had to admit, you wanted him just as badly.

"I'm glad you took your time," he admitted.

You pulled back, a little surprised at his words.

"Not because I didn't wanna be with you, baby. You know that," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to live a beautiful, full life."

You smiled warmly. "I did, Dean. I really did...but I never stopped missing you."

"I know," he admitted. "I was there for a lot of it."

"I always hoped you were."

He smiled at you again, before leaning down to place soft kisses to any piece of exposed skin he could.

"I have something I wanna try," he whispered against your skin.

"Mhmm?" you hummed softly.

"I wanna see if there's a limit to the number of times I can make you cum...it is heaven after all," he murmured huskily.

You gasped. "Dean!"

"Only if you want to..."

"Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester," you whispered. "I think we've both waited long enough."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Winchester...but don't rush me. Now it's my turn to take my time."

You giggled as he tossed you onto the bed, lips never far from each other's skin. You made love more times than either of you could count, trying to make up for all the lost time. Neither of you kept track of the number of times you fell apart in each other's arms...all that mattered was the love that still sparked between you, a love that even death could never diminish.

[g1rld1ary]

you said you didn't have any ideas so here I am scuttling over. book!percy with the pumpkin head trend?? like carving pumpkins and having a pumpkin gut fight? idk I'm silly goofy and my target apple cider candle is getting to me

pumpkin head - percy jackson x fem!reader

wc: 810

cw: none

this was so cute thank u for the request!!! i <3 book percy

“Percy!” You shrieked, “Be careful with the knife!” Percy glanced up at you from where he was haphazardly shoving the knife in and out of the top of the pumpkin, trying to create a cavity.

“I know how to handle a knife, babe, I have saved the world once or twice with one,” He joked, slowing down his movements nonetheless, cutting more carefully. You rolled your eyes, bringing two bowls over from your kitchen to put the guts in while you were carving.

You’d made Percy start the craft for you, doing the most difficult part of cutting the top off so you could get to the fun part and get to making your design faster.

“This is texturally so gross,” You said, scooping the pumpkin’s guts out into the plastic bowl, careful not to get it on your hands.

“You’re texturally gross,” Percy retorted, flicking some guts on you. You gasped, mouth dropping open as you stared at the pumpkin on you.

“That is not what you said last night!” You flung some of your own pumpkins’ guts at him as Percy laughed loudly, scrambling away from you on the floor of your living room. It must have been your demigod instincts that kicked in at that moment, both of you overcome with competitiveness. Pumpkin guts were flung across the room, leaving remnants on the hardwood floor and both your clothes.

You were both laughing, hysterical giggles echoing off the roof as you collapsed onto Percy, the gross feeling of the pumpkin not even bothering you.

“I win,” You said, sticking your tongue out and pointing it at your boyfriend.

“Did not,” Percy whined, playing the sore loser. He let you gloat your victory, pushing you off him and towards your un-carved pumpkin. “Just do your craft.”

You sat in silence for a while, happily listening to your witchy-themed Halloween playlist.

You glanced over at Percy’s when he’d been quiet for a little too long, bursting out in laughter as you caught sight of his pumpkin face. “What is that?” You wheezed, clutching your stomach as it ached. His design wasn’t bad, in fact, you were pretty sure it was supposed to be Medusa. The only issue was that it was completely lopsided, thanks to the way he’d been holding it steady. Percy cocked his head in confusion at first, not understanding what was so funny about the craft he’d been working hard on. Upon holding it out at arm's length though he got it, the realisation hitting his face clear as day. You thought he might have complained after all his hard work, but in true Percy fashion, he just rolled his eyes then let out a laugh.

“It’s an action shot,” He supplied finally, “She’s lopsided ‘coz I’m in the middle of cutting off her head.” That made you laugh harder, Percy’s moments of brilliance always delighted you. He groaned dramatically as he looked at yours, simple but well-executed. “Why is my girlfriend always perfect?” He yelled to the sky, shaking a fist like an old-school gangster.

Regardless of the disparity in your craft abilities, you and Percy decided you were finished at about the same time. That brought you to trying to get the pumpkins on your head. Percy helped you first, sliding the pumpkin over your head as you squirmed, squealing as you felt it on your hair.

“This is so gross,” You moaned, “I’m gonna have to wash my hair tonight.”

“This was your idea, stupid,” Percy laughed, patting you on your pumpkin head.

“I thought it would be cute! I didn’t know it was gonna feel like this!” Percy offered for you two to stop but you shook your head resolutely. You’d already gotten this far and you were going to get your cute couple photos out of it.

Percy was much less dramatic about putting his on, and so there you two were in the middle of your living room, pumpkin heads on and hard to take seriously. You pursed your lips for a kiss, forgetting that when Percy leaned in to reciprocate it you wouldn’t make contact, bumping into each other instead.

Piper had volunteered to take photos for you since you could barely work a camera through the bulky pumpkin heads, bossing you around into different poses that made you laugh and Percy produce some snarky response or another.

Later that night, with your hair freshly washed and pumpkin-free, you and Percy sat on the sofa, Hocus Pocus playing on the TV. You swiped through the pictures Piper had taken, teasing Percy and yourself for how silly you both looked. As Percy ventured to the kitchen to get you both some cider, you set your favourite photo as your lock screen.

[dadsbongos]

i loved that denji one ty 😝🤘u said u've been wanting to write for him? ur in luck cuz i can only think about him 😎😎

how about (fem) reader is sick or something and denji's there to take care of her but like he sucks at it and he doesnt know the fever temps (cuz that'd be pretty funny)

or switched and reader takes care of sick denji :)

ok i know... i know you said him being bad at it is funny... but i think aki having forced him to become a good nurse is sillier

645 words -- not proofread :/

~~~

“I knew you were hot,” Denji wiggles the thermometer in front of your sweaty face, grinning despite the miserable downturn of your lips.

“Denji.”

“Sorry,” he huffs, studying the dial again and sucking air through his jagged teeth, “This is shit, though. You’re boiling.”

You nod sluggishly, “I know, Denji.”

“That’s seriously bad.”

“I know, Denji.”

He frowns, bending down to wring a towel through cool water before laying it over your forehead. Smoothing down the cloth just because he feels useless otherwise. Denji gnaws his bottom lip as he thinks, sitting on the edge of your bed to hold your clammy hand.

“Do you want soup?” he murmurs unsurely, watching you wince and swallow hard before nodding slowly. With a new and apparent objective in mind, Denji beams down at you before rushing off, “Okay!”

Soon after, he returns with an off-white bowl shaking in his hands before sitting beside you again on the bed. You blink up at him with crinkly, boogery eyes and croak out desperately, “...chicken noodle?”

“Chicken noodle,” Denji nods surely, spooning soup up and into your mouth, “I tried not to make the broth too hate.”

“Thanks, Denji.”

“‘Cuz if I burned your tongue I think I’d skin my hand.”

You chuckle weakly, sputtering phlegm and wheezing as you do before soothing a hand over your chest, “Thanks, Denji.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he happily feeds you more soup, feeling his whole body go lighter and lighter the longer you go eating his food without throwing it up. He knows it’s a little strange, but he remembers eating all of Aki’s cooking because he wanted Aki to know he appreciated it -- and he prays now that you might have the same motivation.

“Tea,” you’re mostly mouthing the word, desperate to avoid harsh scratching against the sore spot in the back of your throat. 

“Tea!” he hugs the emptied bowl to his chest (still getting the drippy remnants of chicken noodle soup on his shirt), prepared to rush out of your shared bedroom before pausing, “With honey, right?”

You nod sluggishly, yawning into the open air.

Denji’s eyes light up excitedly, “Lots of honey, right?”

Again, you nod. More so to entertain Denji than anything.

When he returns, it's with a steaming mug and a spoon in his mouth. You point at the spoon with a shaky finger and he speaks clumsily around it, “Honey!” he plucks out the spoon and lays it in his lap when he sits to avoid setting it on your nice dresser. Then he hands the warm mug to you, “And honey here, for my honey.”

You grimace playfully, rasping a “corny”, before blowing into the tea and sipping. 

“‘s true,” he wants to lay down with you, but you’d whack him upright -- too stacked with preemptive guilt of spreading germs onto Denji to let him cuddle you. 

“My neck feels slimy…”

“Shit,” he feels over the folded cloth on your head, “It’s warm!” he dips his fingertips into the large bowl of water he kept to re-moisten the cloth, “Warm!”

Denji runs off to the bathroom and soaks the cloth in cold water to slick over your feverish forehead before refilling the water bowl. Your heavy eyes follow him through the doorways, he stumbles and his hands are unsteady but he’s helpful. You’re sure Aki whipped him into shape on one of his rare sick days. Then, the thought of Power strikes and you’re almost giggling aloud -- what a nightmare that Fiend would be if she got ill.

“Back!” Denji cheers, settling the bowl down and stirring a single finger through the iced water, “Nice and cold for ya. If you overheated that’d be bad.”

“I know, Denji.”

“‘Cuz I don’t want you sick anymore,” he pouts.

Soothed by good humor, you smile genuinely and wave off his worry, “I know, Denji.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“I had a dream about you last night.”

“Oh, did you.” Will grins at him over his shoulder, up to his elbows in blood and fluids.

Nico kicks him. “Focus, stupid.”

“Yeah,” snarks Chiara, whose blood is currently splattering Will’s shirt. She reaches over and flicks Will on the forehead. “Focus in stitching the gaping gash in my leg, Solace.”

Nico frowns around his juicebox. “Hey. Lascialo stare. Only I call him Solace.”

“‘S my last name, Neeks.”

“Uh-huh. Everyone else can figure out something else to call you.”

“Possessive, are you.”

Nico smiles. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What’d you dream about, anyway?”

If Nico didn’t know Will so well, he’d take the casual tone for what it was. But he does, in fact, know Will and his horrible poker face, and notices the purse of his lips, the flick of his eyes in Nico’s direction every three seconds.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Everyone would,” huffs Chiara. “I have about forty dollars resting on you, di Angelo, and I will not be losing it.”

Nico sticks his tongue out at her. “Masticare lo zoccolo, zitella.”

“Hey!”

Will’s shoulders shake so hard he has to pause, trembling with the effort to hold back his laughter.

“I am trying to do a medical procedure, you two.”

Nico and Chiara speak at the same time.

“Yeah, in flip-flops.”

“Oh, are you? You’ve been flirting so long my numbing cream has started to wear off.”

That knocks Will back into doctor mode, eyes narrowing in focus. He is especially freckle-y today, not that Nico notices. And the sun is shining out the window at just the right angle to make Will’s curls look luminous. And his tongue sticks out of the corner of his perfect mouth, when he concentrates. And, gods, he’s wearing a shirt but the muscles in his /back/ —

“I can’t work with you oglin’ at me, Ghost King.”

“I’m not ogling at you.” Nico is a beautiful liar. Ignoring Will’s smirk, Chiara’s snickering, and his own flush is easy. “Why would I ever ogle at such an ugly person?”

“Because you’re in love with him, stupido. It’s embarrassing.”

“I think you should check her eyes, too, Solace.”

“How about you check deez fuckin’ nuts —”

“Alright,” Will says exasperatedly, before they can escalate too much and end up knocking a shelf off the wall. Again. “You’re done, Chiara. Take this ambrosia and scram. Don’t do anything strenuous and rip your stitches, ‘cause I’m not doin’ them again.”

She wastes no time bounding out of there. As soon as she’s gone, Will turns to face Nico, grinning.

“So,” he says, stretching out the syllable, grin wide and crooked, “you had a dream about me?”

Nico glances both ways, making sure no one’s watching. Then he darts forward to press a kiss to Will’s lips, relishing in the smell of his herbal shampoo, the chapped skin of his lips. Will grabs the side of his face and holds him longer, far past the quick peck he’d aimed for, kissing him until he smacks his boyfriend’s shoulder and pulls away, laughing. Will grins triumphantly, like he has the upper hand.

And, well.

Nico can’t have that.

“Yeah, lemme tell you about my dream.” He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders. “This shirt was gone, for starters.”

“Mm. What else?”

“We certainly weren’t in the infirmary.”

“No?”

“No,” Nico breathes, breath hot on Will’s ear. He shivers. Nico smirks. “My cabin, dark, some low music playing…”

Will gasps. “Yeah?”

“…No one to bother us, you looking pretty as a picture on my bed…gagged.”

“Kinky.” Will shudders, hands sliding into Nico’s hair.

“Mhm. My dream come true.”

“That’s your dream?”

“Yes.” Nico pauses. “Dark, comfortable, warm…” He grins, wide and sharklike. “And finally, finally…quiet.”

It takes a second for it to sink in.

“Oh, you jackass!”

Nico cackles, stumbling back at Will’s shove. “Your — your face!”

“You jerk! I despise you!”

“Oh my gods,” he wheezes. He tries to calm himself, but one look at his boyfriend’s bright red cheeks sets him off again. “Oh my gods!”

Will huffs. Despite his embarrassment, he’s visibly struggling to hold on to his scowl, mouth twitching. “I’m breaking up with you. I’m gonna go date someone who appreciates me.”

“Nobody appreciates you more than I do, Sunshine,” Nico says, grinning. He presses a kiss to Will’s glowing cheek. “You’re just so easy to tease.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I gotta work. Leave me alone.”

Nico presses another kiss, lingering until he feels him smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you at dinner, okay? Te amo.”

“…I love you too. Asshole.”

[1920sladydectective]

Value - 2K Angst Drabble

This one is for @uselessbard1031 who I rambled to endlessly last night. Thank you for entertaining me haha <3

Used third person and gave reader/oc a name to trial if I liked writing like this

Ambessa Medarda has known true love with her wife, and yet she underestimated the value of trust - losing what little light she had.

Warnings: This is an Angsty, Hurt No Comfort One with a Death at the End so please don’t read if that’ll upset you. Some swearing and suggestiveness but it’s not the focus.

She’d been gone for nearly three months and Ariadne was dreadfully bored.

She was not dependent on Ambessa for entertainment, nothing so ridiculous, but she did make everything more colourful. More red.

Having endless money and power meant that sneaking about was a thing of the past. The Medarda crest, solid gold, sat shining on her chest as she floated about rocky cobbled streets. There was nothing new, there never was, but she was not permitted to travel beyond Noxus Proper without her. Normally, this meant nothing as she was her constant shadow, the gentle, hypnotic pairing to her razor edge. But this time, with nothing more than brawling limbs and smashed skulls, her dangerous dance was not required. So here Ariadne was, eating the same old woman’s sweetbread four streets from the dock whilst yet another report was piled on her desk at home.

Ambessa’s firm hands ripped the leg from the charred chicken, dark eyes fixed on a tattered battle map. The uselessness of her scouts was astounding and would not go unchecked. They were essentially blind, running out of resources and fatigued from months of mindless, tactless brawling. The fact that it was in Ionia did not help, with plush swirls of magic and deception twinkling all around. She missed her wife, her etherealness echoed here like an aftershock determined to drag her back home. A few more weeks my love, her tired mind called. If she focused she could see the curl of her hair, the smirk of her lip, hear the lightness of her gasps. Ambessa had mutilated the chicken with her teeth, Ariadne the thing in her grip in her mind’s eye.

Books and scrolls were scattered across a weathered, creaking table. Most of the surroundings had been turned to ash and cinder anyway, with no viable way to hide or reposition. The only true way was left, which heralded their salvation. A way to hide, to act from the shadows, lined with the very resources they needed. It had been a debate for mere seconds, but her smog covered, silent tent reaffirmed that left was the only way to go.

It took two weeks of blood, sweat and fury, but the ground yielded to them. Emerald greens and pretty blues were tinged with a corrosive brown, the very core of the soil’s nutrients being harvested till the land began to wheeze and sigh. The trees here had a particularly hard, spiraling texture that made for a perfect building resource. Each thing they took strengthened them, Noxians rising from the ashes of their struggle with hardened, determined looks. The small, serene pools would cleanse themselves eventually, Ambessa reassured her officers as they tinted it crimson from dried Ionian blood. They were cleansed, restored and Ambessa once again thought of her wife, grateful she had been blessed with knowledge of such a place and sure of her understanding.

Ariadne was struggling to master where the sun would fall. She was a proficient painter, all mediums yielding to her and yet without her reference she was stuck. Her painting knife clattered against marble, aching back crackling backwards as she surveyed the scene. Her scribbles could wait, news had reached them that the battle was finally won. Ambessa would be home within the week and celebrations didn’t plan themselves.

It took her years to adjust to the boastful nature of Noxian victories, but now she relished in it with a ferocity rivalling Ambessa herself. Food, wine, glittering decoration. All of it to honour her Warrior.

Nights were restless, her own duties weighty when she governed alone. Each choice felt sticky, lingering as she honoured the fickle balance of the Noxian and Ionian within her. It felt easier now, nearly two decades after their wedding, to see how she merged with her beloved wolf. She was more giving, more aware of the dusting of people that coated their every path. Ambessa tempered her kindness with the lens of reality, dust was an endless, ever renewing resource and she could not aid and cleanse it all. Though she made these choices she was glad for her wife’s return. The boat docked early afternoon, a well rested legion ready to prepare for their welcome party.

Ambessa only appeared moments before the hosting would begin, which was predictable and infuriating. Ariadne’s body sang a siren song, pushing her into strong, certain arms.

“Hello, Little Moonbeam,” Ambessa said, eyes glowing as she pawed at her silk clad hips.

“Lupus,” She responded, planting a charged kiss to her cheek, “How lovely to see you after so long,”

Ambessa snorted, “I’d like to see you continue pleasantries when I bend you over and use you in front of all of our men,”

“Empty threats don’t suit you, you wouldn’t ruin my little soiree,”

“I might,”

“There is stuffed lobster and enough left over butter that you can lick it from my skin later,”

“I suppose I can schmooze for a few hours,” She conceded with a grin, hand squeezing her ass before wandering off to greet people.

Ariadne rolled her eyes. Her precious, silly woman. Commanding and brutal, with the tenderest voice in all of Runeterra. Champagne bubbles tickled her nose as music and movement enthralled her senses. This was a success, perhaps her best yet.

Hours dashed past, stomachs and hearts heavy with rich, decadent food and an overindulgence of spirits. Ambessa was practically tugging her back to their chambers, filthy words and wandering hands.

Sprawled half naked across their bed with pretty beaded clips carving into her head, she watched her look around.

“Where’s the butter then, hmm?” Ambessa bit at Ariadne’s raised ankle, looming above her.

A light, shining laugh pierced through the warlord’s heart as she shook her head, “Not yet, you always tell me of the battle first,”

“We fought, I smashed things, we won,” Her lips were frantic, impatient, nose nuzzling her ankle.

“Lupus,” She whined, “Please tell me properly,”

“Gods,” A grunt as she flopped next to her, mattress bouncing, “Fine,”

Ambessa’s storytelling was astounding, the fight a harsh mashing of colour and feeling hanging over Ariadne’s eyes as she curled closer. Gasps left her, pride burning low in her stomach as she envisioned her victorious, otherworldly wife conquering yet another patch of their little world.

One thing stood out, a confusing detail, “Where did you end up? The letters didn’t say, but clearly something changed the tides,”

Ambessa tensed, rationality returning slowly. Fuck. Yes.

Ariadne frowned, sitting up, “Ambessa? Nowhere bad I hope, you said there was lots of ash and destruction,”

A click of an unsure tongue, “Western Ionia, just to the right of the Grove,”

Her face dropped, eyes wide, “Was it safe? Please tell me you checked,”

“I preserved it as best as I could, Moonbeam,” Ambessa’s voice was so gentle, “I’m sorry,”

Rage curdled her very blood, “Those bastards,” She spat, “That was such a sanctuary and they ruined it? For a petty patch of land?” That was the Noxian talking, conquest, a necessary and easily accepted part of life.

“I know,” The warlord continued, “It was needless, if they had surrendered we wouldn’t have needed to utilise it,”

No, a hopeful part of Ariadne cried, She misspoke.

“Utilise it?” Her voice was even, eyes understanding.

“Yes,” Ambessa nodded, spurred on by her calm reaction, “It was the only way to ensure victory, the resources there were far more valuable than I’d realised,”

Valuable, the darkness sang, valuable indeed. “And this was clearly the only way,”

“Exactly, I told Rictus you would understand, we couldn’t retreat when we were so close,”

It settled on her, warm and weighted like a bath as it dragged her under. Retreat was an option, just not one acceptable to her warlord’s pride. Seventeen years of her life was draining away now, crimson as it leaked from her soul.

“I understand exactly, General Medarda,” Her eyes were dull, “Victory was secured,”

“I-Yes,” Ambessa said, face still and sharp at her wife’s shift.

“Such a small cost this time too,” She continued, venom sharp and tart, “A true relief, you have only lost your wife,”

Powerful shoulders twitched, any attempt at words flattened by the sudden onslaught of vicious, slicing words Ariadne unleashed.

“Your only boundary, your only concession was my Grove,” Spit and iron tainted her tongue, “I conceded all else, gave myself to you without restraint. I allowed you to kill my people, steal their land and destroy their traditions and in return you promised me that it would remain preserved,”

“Allowed me?” Ambessa scoffed, despite herself, bitterness merging with panic, “I do not need your permission, you forget yourself,”

“Clearly,” The shadows were turned on the warrior now, sharp nails carving through the skin on her thigh, “I never should have submitted to your obsessions, becoming another battered trophy,”

She growled, grip crushing a dainty wrist, “Obsession? I love you wholeheartedly and this is the thanks I get?”

“You wouldn’t know love if it choked your very soul from you, Lupus,”

She retreated now, too late, warm platitudes on those plush, devouring lips.

What a battlefield their bedroom would make, the landscape a No Man’s land of affection and betrayal.

Violent hands flung the Medarda crest across the room, a window shattering to beckon in icy winds. Perfect, true, poetic. The artistic side of Ariadne relished in the physical markers of her turmoil, each part of her breaking as their space devolved into ruins.

Ambessa dodged each projectile, with increasing concern. This was not the anger she had anticipated, there was no balance of wills here. Her darling wife’s eyes were wrong, black as molten tar as she obliterated their life together. No calling, no sweet words, no reprimands brought her back from the cliff’s edge. The rocky waves summoned Ariadne and she fell, willingly, into the vengeful murky depths.

Fury licked at her, hungry and strong, “You won’t even give me a proper fight, you destroy our marriage and then coddle me like a fool,”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Ambessa said, shoulders passive, “I want to listen, my darling, to help you recover,”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” Adriadne screamed, lungs full of lava, as she threw the ornate pollarm on the wall to her, gripping one herself “Fight me you Coward,”

Ambessa caught it instinctively, brow furrowed, “That is enough, Ariadne,” She stepped forward, “You do not know how to use that, you could hurt yourself,”

The precision of a painter, swift and true, sliced Ambessa’s face from nose to crown. Soft, curling locks drifted on the cold wind, blood seeping into her mouth. There was no transition, no gradual decline.

Ariadne lay face down on the silk sheets, with her arms painfully pulled behind her, a firm knee on her lower back to keep her pinned, “Are you quite done?”

She was no wolf, the woman towering over her ensured she would never wish to be and her adrenaline bled out. The result was more than she could have feared, glassy eyes observing the bombed out craters in her surroundings, her thoughts jumbled.

“Moonbeam?” It was so sweet, a hypnotic hum to soothe her and she let it, just for a moment, just to gather her thoughts.

Ambessa relaxed as her wife’s body went limp, crawling over her form and pulling it into her embrace. Her nose, now cold from the night air, bumped against her collarbone as she rocked and shushed her.

“Everything’s going to be okay, little one,” She sounded so sure, so certain, “You’re not going anywhere, I have you, we’re going to be just fine,”

Ambessa was right, she realised, she wasn’t going anywhere with a wife such as hers.

Ariadne couldn’t have that, Ambessa deserved to lose as she had.

Serene, with considered movements, she took the dagger from her wife’s belt and slashed her own throat.

The gargle was wrong, the pain immaterial as she felt searing pleasure at the warlord’s watery, desperate eyes.

Let your ‘love’ choke you, Ambessa Medarda.

Ariadne was finally free of her invisible cage, soul dancing off to a thriving forest where the sun settled just as she had imagined it would.

[stargildedskies]

Malum in se

Pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None! There's only fluff here :)

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: A lovely anon originally requested this of @pseudowho, but she's asked me to fill it (for those of you not following the saga of Lyria's snow week™️.... I've been completely snowed in and WIPs have kept me sane).

Join my taglist here! (18+ only, this blog is mostly pure filth)

Higuruma Hiromi knew he was truly in love when you successfully convinced him to watch horrifically cheesy reruns of Law and Order while he was the one stuck at home sick. He groaned dramatically at every exaggeration or incorrect legal quote, but he enjoyed how you snuggled into his side too much to actually complain about the situation. After all, you were kind enough to take care of him, and his mild illness had not deterred your affection in the slightest. 

He had almost fallen asleep on the couch when you cocked your head at the antics on the television, murmuring under your breath, “Wouldn’t that qualify as Malum in se, though?” 

Hiromi blinked once, twice, and then a third time before speaking, “I’m sorry, what?” 

You turned to face your boyfriend, tone slightly teasing, “Yeah, Malum in se, right? Things like assault, murder… or wearing white after Labor Day.” 

Hiromi arched an eyebrow at you and treated you to the lopsided grin you adored so much. “You’re going to have to tell me how you know what that is.” 

He snaked his arms around you, pulling you even closer against his warm chest. Before you could answer, he took the chance to nuzzle his nose against the column of your neck, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Well, pretty girl?” He teased gently, and you dropped your head back against his shoulder, humming contentedly.

“Do you remember when I mentioned I used to do community theatre a few years ago?” You questioned, and you could feel Higuruma's grin grow wider.

“Indeed, I do.”

“Well…. There was one time when I played a character who happened to be a law student.” You pursed your lips, trying to keep laughter from bubbling up. 

Hiromi broke into a barking laugh that became a short coughing fit. “You played a law student? What kind of musical involves lawyers?” he wheezed. 

“It’s called Legally Blonde, and it’s not just a musical… It’s a masterpiece.” You insisted. “I loved the movie when I was a young girl, and getting to play Elle- the main character- was an absolute dream come true.” 

Your eyes lit up as an idea sparked into your brain with the strength of a thunderbolt, “Omigod, you’ve never seen the movie, have you? We absolutely have to watch it.” 

Hiromi chuckled weakly, running his hand through your hair, “I’ve got a better idea… There have to be clips of your performance somewhere, right?” 

“Oh….” you paused for a moment, “It was a few years ago, and I’m sure it wasn’t my best work, but-” 

“There’s nothing I’d rather see than you enjoying yourself and doing what you love,” Hiromi interrupted gently, stroking your hair again.

His lopsided grin turned wolfish,  “Besides… I am sick; I think this is exactly what I need to heal.” 

“If you insist.” You smacked him gently with a pillow to punctuate your words as you left the couch to rummage through the DVDs on the shelf. You even took the time to make another mug of tea for your boyfriend, but eventually, you were back and snuggled up against Hiromi, who gratefully accepted the mug you offered him. 

His nose wrinkled unintentionally as he took a sip, “Thank you… but what is in this stuff?” 

“It’s helping your throat, isn’t it? You poked his stomach playfully, and he groaned in response. 

“Yes, but at what cost?” Hiromi huffed, but the slight twinkle in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. 

“It’s throat coat tea, yet another remnant from my musical days,” you giggled. “I never liked the taste either, but it certainly gets the job done.” 

With another flourish of the remote, you pulled up the recording of the show, and you swear you could feel Hiromi smiling behind you as he nursed the warm mug. As soon as the video started, he broke out into another laughter-induced coughing fit. 

“Dear god, I’ve never seen so much pink in my entire life.” 

“Oh, just you wait.” You threatened teasingly, “You haven’t even seen my character yet.” 

Hiromi grasped his mug in one hand and used his other arm to pull you back against his chest, wrapping a blanket snugly around your body. You leaned fully against him, partially because you enjoyed the intimacy and partly because you wanted to see his reactions out of the corner of your eye. 

His reactions did not disappoint, even though the video was grainy and clearly meant to be viewed through the rose-colored lenses of someone who was in the show. Hiromi grinned widely when you appeared on stage, murmuring almost too quietly for you to hear, “Cute…” 

You blushed happily, and the show continued. He had many comments on how the Delta Nus seemed to share a hive mind and how much of a prick Warner was. He also very nearly choked on his tea when your character’s father proudly declared, “Law school is for boring, ugly, serious people!” 

Hiromi glanced down at you after that line with a slight pout, and you took the opportunity to cup his cheek and pull him in for a soft kiss, tasting the tea and honey on his lips. “Mmm, don’t worry… You’re not boring, and you’re certainly not ugly. You can be rather serious… but I like that about you.” 

Hiromi kissed the top of your head with a low, contented hum, absolutely convinced his heart was full enough to burst. He fell more in love with you with each passing day, and these past few days had only further sealed his fate. Even now, he was watching you sing and dance your heart out, and you were shining in the roll. The sassy, playfully cute, but deceptively intelligent lawyer was such a perfect role for you, and he quickly became frustrated with Warner. Seeing you so upset over such a stupid man hurt his heart, even though he knew you were acting…. and then Emmett was introduced. 

“Now, I like that guy. He’s got the right idea, actually treating Elle decently.” Hiromi mused, playfully twirling a strand of your hair. 

“Oh, really?” You grinned slyly. “He reminds me of you, you know.”  

“It seems we share the same excellent taste in women.” 

–

The movie was over a short while later, but Hiromi insisted on letting it play through curtain call so he could properly applaud your work. You rolled over to lay against his chest, peering inquisitively into his dark, beautiful eyes, “So you really liked it?” 

“I loved it,” He assured you, pulling you in for another tea-flavored kiss. Suddenly, you could feel him grinning against your lips, “And I may buy you another one of those pink tweed skirt sets… it was cute on you.” 

His deep chuckle only grew louder as you smacked him with another pillow.

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @khaleesihavilliard @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @pseudowho

[apocalypse-shuffle]

ALCIDE HERVEAUX (true blood)

—

“Formality” (Alcide Herveaux x Fem!Reader)

| Rikki left you with a task to fulfill: train Alcide how to fight your pack’s way. Unfortunately for you, though, the man is about as irritating as he is nice to look at.

| NSFW, enemies to lovers-ish, training, brief werewolf transformation, reader-insert is shorter than Alcide, UST, pre smut -werewolf!reader

| Pic source: True Blood (2008-2014)

| Happy Halloween Eve!! 🐾

| 1k+ words

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT, ALCIDE!”

Your lungs ache with the force of your shout, throat already sore from just five minutes of arguing.

In all honesty you’ve just about had it. Had it with all of the yelling and name-calling that happened so often when you and this bullheaded-ass man were alone together that always ended with both of you bruised and frustrated.

Today was no different.

The pack barn was empty — everyone had cleared out once they heard you and Alcide start going at it. And to top it all of you can’t even remember what you’d actually been planning to do with him today, you just know that Alcide Herveaux is a pain in your ass and you do not plan on letting up your argument anytime soon.

You’ve been training him in place of Rikki for the fight against y’all’s current piece of shit packmaster, JD. Rikki and you had aligned with Alcide when he challenged JD because you could both see that he was leading the pack down a shitty path.

Rikki had been ready to challenge JD herself, with you as her second, before Alcide came along and y’all decided that since he’d already killed one of his past packmasters and managed to become packmaster of what was left of his own pack that hadn’t defected to the vamps under Cooter, he’d do.

Alcide was doing a good enough job with his pack in Jackson, after his old packmaster up and left when the vampires had indoctrinated the majority of his wolves, so you were willing to back him up in taking control and merging packs.

If only he’d focus less on fucking with you and more on training.

Rikki wasn’t training him because she was dealing with a runaway, a teenaged pup chasing V. So now the duty was on you to be Alcide’s second and prepare him for fighting against a coked up werewolf.

“What’s the matter, Boss, worried for me? I took on Marcus, I can take JD,” Alcide says, smirking.

One brow raised, you roll your eyes.

“Uh huh, I’m sure a werewolf two times as fast and bloodthirsty will be the exact same. Training at this point is just a formality,” your words drip heavily with sarcasm before you shift to come at him with a barrage of kicks.

Alcide takes the first hit like a pro and blocks the rest without much trouble. That is until you get close enough to knee him in the nards, wait until he’s keeling over to grab hold of his junk, then aim for the side of his neck on your next strike instead of his torso.

He doesn’t block your attack in time by a landslide and falls the rest of the way to the ground like a crumpled marionette a second later. You’d have more sympathy for a puppet.

Blinking down at him you watch him struggle on his knees. Kneeling with his hand on his throat, breath wheezing out as his body struggles to heal his esophagus. Supernatural or not, a hit to the throat was a hit to the throat.

Once Alcide gets his bearings he looks up at you with glowing yellow eyes and glares.

“For something so small you sure can hit hard,” he grunts out. He starts stripping out of his shirt.

Scoffing, you shrug; determined to take any injuries he got as seriously as he was your training.

This wasn’t a game and you needed him to start acting like it.

Quickly.

“Mhm.” You drum your fingers against the dark skin of your arm, lips pursed. “Next time throw your forearms up to block a kick to the head or neck, and don’t let yourself get so damn comfortable. You left your dick right open, I was practically invited. And if you're about to get hit in the head pretty much just fall back as much as possible. A hit to the temple or an uppercut will knock you out.”

And that’s all you give him in lieu of a more clever retort.

Alcide huffs out a breath as he stands, movements slow, “I’ll keep that in mind if JD’s crazy ass pulls out unknown judo skills. Come on, Y/n, he’s not coming at me with anything but wild punches, fang, and claw. So yeah, this is formality.”

You grit your teeth.

“Trained or not, JD is unstable with all that V in him. So formality or not, we’re training so you’re ready regardless of what he throws at you. But since you seem so set on it, we can train with fang and claw.”

You glare as Alcide chuckles, looking you up and down. You’re just about ready to screw it all at this point with his bullshit appeasement routine and walk out when he drops his pants and lunges.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he growls, his shift taking over in the midst of his final word.

Eyes widening, you just barely jump out of the way of the downward swipe of his claws. You don't have time to marvel at the juxtaposition of Alcide, Mississippi lumber man, being an arctic wolf before you’re bursting outside of the barn and into the woods.

A wolf-like snigger and the pounding of paws hitting the earth is what you hyper focus on as you run, throwing bits and pieces of clothing off as you go. You don’t bother trying to take off your socks as you toss your T-shirt overhead and rip the shorts from your body.

Fuck it, you’re not losing to Alcide of all wolves.

Alcide nips at your heels once playfully and you growl low in your throat, eyes flashing to life. The glow casts the land in front of you a faint yellow as you whizz by, speeding up and putting a couple feet of distance between you and the other wolf. Your own wolf pulls at your control as Alcide growls behind you in a goad; clearly you’re taking too long to engage for his liking.

Smirking, you speed up even more before jumping and grabbing a hold of a low hanging branch. You swing yourself up and perch atop, watching in amusement as Alcide blows past you and then skids. He kicks up dirt as he turns around with a high pitched yip. It has you laughing while you shed your underwear and socks, letting them fall to the ground below.

Your panties land directly on top of the other wolf’s head and you watch him struggle to paw them off long enough for him to start getting irritated and growl to himself before you push yourself off the branch and book it towards the swamp.

Hardly skipping a step, your shift takes place, and with the switch everything is so easy.

Your paws pound on the earth and your lungs fill with the essence of the swamp as you howl and charge straight for the water.

You’re maybe part of the way there, going so fast you’re well on your way to flying, when you’re veering left completely absent of your own accord.

Yelp caught in your throat you go crashing into the brush, the full brunt of Alcide’s arctic wolf ramming into your side and bowling you off your path.

With brief flashes of shimmering light you both transition back to “human”, your brown skin getting peppered with sticks and sand and flora without your wolf’s thicker skin and lush fur as a barrier.

Instead it’s the tight curls at the top of your head that snag against leaves and twigs as you tumble with Alcide’s skin sliding against yours, but you don’t even mind, a new weight falling from your shoulders bit by bit with every roll.

When you both come to a stop you’re splayed on top of him, hands locked around his tanned arms and both of your legs tangled.

He chuckles and it’s a boyish lilting thing, still gulping for air as he looks you up and down, a wave of desire rising in his warm brown irises.

It isn’t until then that you notice just how close you are to each other. You drop your head closer to him and gaze your own bright eyes into his. His bare chest, surprisingly not hairy, heaves up and down as he grins at you. You match his energy, breaths just as labored as Alcide’s.

His gaze is all wild and sharp. Filled with a wolf’s playfulness.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Herveaux,” you pant, pupils blown wide with lust as you glance down at his mouth.

You have been working hard, you muse. A reward would be nice.

He licks his lips.

“You love it.”

“Occasionally,” you counter, a growl rumbling in your chest, and then you’re both crashing into each other again (just a little to the left this time).

The kiss is all vigor. Teeth clacking together and tongues battling for dominance, another race all on its own. Alcide eventually makes you lose ground and gets you on your back. You both break apart to gasp for breath.

“You gonna let me fuck you?”

His hand goes to squeeze around the side of your neck and you find yourself baring it for him, a tiny whimper pushing past your lips.

“Take a break?” You blink up at him, eyes soft, but hold a finger up so he doesn’t move on you just yet. “—So long as you get it together when we’re done.”

─────

Your airy voice and soft noises make his wolf tremble with the urge to claim. To mate. Alcide pauses to take a deep breath, ease the way his beast rattles, but it doesn’t do a damn thing but make his cock twitch and fatten. The other werewolf smells like straight arousal.

Brimstone and something earthy, inherently woody and unquestionably you, fills his nose and whatever inclination he had to pace himself firmly slips to the back of his mind.

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a break. I’ll be as good as I can be afterwards.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Mind any typos, I will get to them later. And, yeah, I did give a little nod to Monster Squad (1987) with that ‘nards’ bit.

There’s also a high possibility I might rewrite/repost this later with more story due to the time constraints of trying to get this out today not allowing for as much expansion as I would’ve wanted, but yeah.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!